Page 40 of Muzzled

“So whatisour plan?” she breathed into his ear, inching his shirt up as he grasped her hips to ground himself. “And can it include stabbing stuff?”

His laugh came out as a groan when she abandoned his shirt in favor of unhooking his belt. “That doesn’t sound psychotic at all,” he replied, pushing her jacket off her arms and dropping it to the floor before yanking his shirt over his head.

Her nails raked down his arms, her hazel eyes dark as she locked onto the tattoo on his chest, centered over his heart. “You’ve been branded,” she murmured, tracing the thick lines of Hades’s marking before she pressed against him and kissed him hard. “There’s a fine line between creativity and madness,” she murmured against his lips before she backed away from him and pulled her shirt over her head. “I’ve aced the creativity part.”

There was a quick short-circuiting in his head as he took in the visual of her standing there in her black push-up bra, her complete confidence in how hot she looked broadcast loud and clear in her cocky stance.

“You like?”

He nodded, stalking her as she backed up to the bed. “I definitely like.”

She grabbed him by the band of his jeans and brought him tight against her, her lips traveling over his throat. “We should revisit the initial plan later,” she breathed, her fingers dancing along his biceps. “Maybe be more proactive in drawing it out.”

Running his hands over the soft skin of her ribs, he dipped his head into the crook of her neck. “All for that idea,” he murmured, kissing along her jaw until he found her lips again. “Later, though. I am way too distracted right now.”

Distracted.

Had her skin turned to lava in that moment, he couldn’t have released her faster.

Chapter Fifteen

Micah stretched herarms across the back of the cafe booth, amused by Ryan’s continued refusal to look her in the eye. “I’m not sure I’m following you.”

His attention on the kitchen doors, he frowned. “I wouldn’t mention it if I didn’t feel there may be a lead there,” he replied. “But if you’re okay with it, maybe contacting your mother will give us something else to go on. Some idea of why the shade has chosen you and how you’re linked to the Pirithous line.”

“If,” she corrected. “If I’m linked to the Pirithous line. This might all be a coincidence and I may not have anything at all to do with any of it.”

He rolled his shoulders out and leaned back, his attention dropping to his coffee cup. “We can ‘if’ all we want, but a Pirithous shade has been tracking you for thirty years. I think we can safely assume you’re connected.” Glancing back at the kitchen, he exhaled. “I thought the food would arrive a little quicker since the place is empty.”

“We ordered five minutes ago.” She smirked, flipping her phone over to verify the time. “Okay. So you want to put me in the lovely position of calling my mom. When that uncovers nothing more than her deep-seated resentment of my existence, what’s our next step?”

He finally looked at her briefly, concern flashing across his face. “We don’t need to contact her. We can look into other ways to get the infor—”

“It’s fine.” She laughed, shaking her head. “I’m just piling on the guilt for future leverage. I’ll touch base with her after we finish up here.”

Nodding, he began playing with his paper napkin, folding and crumpling it absently. “I suppose our next step with the Pirithous will be determined by what intel she has,” he mused, ripped a piece of napkin and balled it between his fingers. “As for drawing out the shade, I have an idea, but you probably won’t like it any more than you like the idea of calling your mother.” He looked over at the kitchen again. “Finally.”

Waiting while the server set their meals down, she watched Ryan shove the crumpled napkin under his plate and out of sight, aligning his knife and fork carefully before he reached for the pepper.

He was wound tighter than a clock spring, his normally fluid movements jerking as his muscles fought against the tension to carry out the smallest tasks.

Dumping a heap of salt on her fries, she held off speaking until he placed the pepper back and nudged the rest of the condiments into a neat row. “So you and Persephone,” she opened, swallowing a fry. “Is there anything to it, or is it just an unrequited tragedy?”

His lips drew into a tight line. “She’s my boss’s wife and my charge,” he replied tersely, taking a bite of his burger.

“Right.” She nodded. “That’s not what I asked.”

“That’s the answer you’re getting.”

She let him eat in peace for a few minutes, poking at her own food with disinterest. “All those paintings I’ve ever done of Persephone always had one thing in common,” she pressed on. “They always had an underlying tone of, I don’t know, reverence, I guess? Like the eyes looking up at her worshipped her.”

What was left of Ryan’s burger became inordinately more interesting and his grip tightened on it.

“She’s a stunning woman. Goddess. A stunning goddess,” she corrected. “But it does make me wonder, since you said so many of my pieces came from your own memories…does she know you’re in love with her?”

He dropped the last bit of burger and shoved his plate away. “I’ve been guarding her for thousands of years. You’re confusing love with loyalty.”

Thinking back to the way he instinctively protected Persephone’s dress with his shirt in the motel room, the way his eyes softened with her approval, the defeat in his stance when she deemed his efforts lacking. “I think you’re the one confusing the two,” she stated, unwilling to back down as he motioned to the server to bring their bill. “She’s the reason you went from red hot to ice back in the motel, wasn’t she?”

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