Page 51 of Muzzled

Settling deeper into the bed, she switched off the lamps. “Ten-four, captain.” When he snorted in response, she rolled over. “Night, Ryan.”

“Night, Micah.”

Chapter Nineteen

Ryan reached overand placed his hand on Micah’s leg until she resettled from whatever nightmare was tormenting her again.

He’d lost track of how many she’d had already. Eight? Nine? The first woke him within an hour of falling asleep, her thrashing sending the motel alarm clock skidding across the bedside table as she whimpered and muttered incoherently. When calling out to her had failed, he got up and laid his hand on her, intending to shake her out of the nightmare. Instead, she’d stilled almost instantly, sinking back into a deep, silent sleep.

He’d repeated the action every thirty to forty minutes, catching whatever rest he could in between her nightmares and his own darkening thoughts.

It’s protecting me. From you.

The words had been looping in his head since she’d spoken them, attaching themselves to every memory he had of the past month and exposing the damage he’d already unintentionally caused.

Unintentionally.

*

Hoping his movementswouldn’t wake her, he prepared the small coffee maker and watched as it dripped.

There had been no reason for him to bring her as deep into his hunt as he had, no reason to put her on Seph’s radar, to interject himself directly into her life, to continue to haul her further into his life. He’d spent centuries tracking the Pirithous with stealth, content to remain on the periphery of the topside world since he’d never seen it as more than his hunting grounds, nothing more than a business trip.

He straddled the chair and stared at the coffeepot, willing it to fill faster.

Blaming the shade for forcing his hand was an easy out, the coward’s out. But it hadn’t been the shade’s presence keeping his phone tethered to him when he knew she’d be calling. It wasn’t responsible for the heightened anticipation he felt every time they made plans. The shade wasn’t the reason he was currently melting in his own motel room while she slept bundled under a pile of blankets. Nor could he blame it for how loose his tongue got when she was around, how much he desperately wanted her to know who he was.

Picking up his cell, he fired off a quick text to Alex.

Do you and Charlotte argue about the thermostat or do you just suffer?

The phone rang within seconds. Muffling the sound with his shirt as he bolted to the bathroom, he closed the door and shoved a towel against the bottom to keep the noise to a minimum in the hopes Micah would sleep a little longer. “Hey.”

“Tell me it’s the artist,” Alex said without hesitation.

Turning on the shower to add another layer of sound buffering, he leaned against the counter. “What are you talking about?”

Alex snorted. “Do you just suffer?” he mimicked in a strange falsetto. “Come on, man. You’ve obviously been baking long enough to ask. AND it’s obviously not a one-off if you’re already wondering about next time. Iknewit!” He sounded almost giddy. “Are you hiding out in the bathroom?”

Listening over the rushing water to ensure Micah was still sleeping, he closed his eyes. “I was just asking,” he muttered, second-guessing how wise it had been to ask and ignoring Alex’s other question. “You still on board for Saturday?”

“Hell, yeah. Charlotte’s already made plans with the women at work to go camping. Now back to your artist—”

“Micah’s not ‘my’ artist,” he interrupted.

Alex’s laughter echoed against the bathroom tiles. “Denial ain’t just a river.” He chortled before his voice turned serious. “Seph will never release you, you know that, right?”

“I’m not looking for release,” he stated, sounding as unconvinced as he was. “Besides, taking over Bo’s damaged love line has kind of sealed that life thread off for me.”

There was a long pause. “Right. You regretting it?”

“Not at all,” he replied with finality. “After what he went through for Sage? He pushed through way too much before the trade. If Micah was on my path, the fate roadblocks would already be in place. This is just a proximity thing.”

“A proximity thing,” Alex parroted. “Yeah, okay. Look, if you want to avoid the thermostat argument, load up her blankets at night when you need it cooler and suck it up during the day. I need to get ready for work, so good luck, man. See you Saturday. And stop hiding from her in the bathroom. It’s weird.”

*

Micah crossed herarms and slouched back in the plastic patio chair. “I don’t know how else to describe it.” She moaned in frustration. “I can keep it all sealed back in my head, but if I even so much as peek inside, the floodgates open, and it’s like the worst migraine combined with the loudest sounds and fifty strobe lights.”

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