Page 58 of Muzzled

He met his boss’s stare. “Master?”

Hades mimicked his position, his elbows on his knees. “Your desire for my wife ensured a devotion and loyalty to me as well as to her. Ensured your return once the hunt for Pirithous was over.” He chuckled and shook his head. “Your unwavering obedience is the only reason I gave permission for your brothers to remain topside after the completion of the curse. Now? Now I want to revisit that permission.”

Ryan swallowed when Micah flashed across his mind, her hazel eyes looking down at him as she’d straddled him at the flats. “You want Alex and Bo to leave Sage and Charlotte.”

Leaning back again, Hades fixed him with a hard glare. “I want my dog back on duty.”

“I’m returning,” he argued. “You don’t need them.”

“Returning, yes,” Hades countered. “But for how long?” He stood up and walked around the small room, picking up a black pencil Micah had used on her eyes that morning. “I’m not fool enough to believe your allegiance will remain unwavering in the face of this, so I’m here to come to an agreement.”

Watching his boss flip the pencil between his fingers, he rolled out his shoulders. “What kind of agreement?”

Hades slid the eyeliner into his back pocket and pulled out a paper, then unfolded it and set it on the dresser. “Your service, loyalty, and complete obedience in exchange for your brothers’ freedom.”

“You already have that,” he stated, rising to his feet before Hades placed a staying hand on his shoulder and shoved him back down. “You own me.”

“Ownership of any living thing is precarious. While I may state you belong to me, sentient thought dictates I own nothing more than your presence.” Flattening the paper out, Hades turned and faced him, handing him the contract. “Without Persephone guaranteeing your staunch devotion, I want a guarantee of my own.”

He read through the contract, his stomach knotting. “You want to exact punishment on Alex and Bo for thought crimes?” He growled, unable to hold back his disgust as his phone buzzed on the dresser. “So if you or Seph even suspect my mind is on anyone other than work, you’ll take it out on my brothers.”

“Anyone?” Hades clarified with a sly smile, his eyes flicking to the cell phone lighting up with texts. “Yes, Orion. Punishment will be meted for thoughts. Because thoughts, like dogs, shouldn’t stray.”

Shaking his head, he stood and tossed the contract onto the dresser, momentarily forgetting his place. “No deal. I’m not giving you free rein to lash them because you’re in a bad mood.”

Hades’s hand shot out, forcing him to his knees. “Like you said, I already own you.” Striding over to the bedside table, he snatched a pen and thrust it at him. “Sign.”

“Why?” he pressed, bracing for a strike. “I’ve been heeling for thousands of years and never once have you questioned my loyalty or my obedience.”

“Never once have I had to,” Hades snarled back, throwing the contract at his knees. “I’m down two dogs, with a third chasing tail topside instead of fulfilling his duties. I have a wife blaming me for trading away her two prize canines while her preferred pet, the mutt who worshipped her like the goddess she is, is replacing her with a common tramp.”

The element of surprise was the only reason he was able to get the upper hand when he tackled Hades to the ground, sending the cheap motel chairs skidding and skipping across the carpet while they grappled. He’d landed his second hit when Hades snapped out of his daze and sent him flying across the room, landing on him in a single jump.

“I’m going to forget about this little miscalculation,” Hades whispered in his ear, digging his knee into his chest. “Sign the contract.”

Shaking his head, he fought to push off the floor as Hades bounced his head off the carpet.

“Let me be clear,” his boss said, his voice taking on an eerie calm as he shoved the eyeliner into his hand. “Sign it, or the artist will pay for your insolence.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Mike set herphone on her worktable with a smile and returned her attention to the canvas, determined to power through the rest of the night until Ryan arrived.

Arrived, and scared off the shade watching her from the roof of the coffeehouse.

“Where are sales sitting?” she muttered to Logan, angling her work to make the most of the streetlights.

He knelt at her side to avoid being overheard by the crowd that had assembled. “Sixty-eight two-for-one prints, twenty paint, about a dozen pastels, and we’re out of the charcoal originals.”

“The charcoal prints with the black mats,” she replied, glancing up at the shade. “I’ll make up for the charcoal deficit tomorrow. We’ll top up the originals with the ones we have stored.”

The usual rush she always got from the first day should have paired with the thrill of a good sales day to make her giddy, should have driven her energy for the rest of the weekend. But she could feel the growing influence of the spirit in her head, the pull toward the dark images she was fighting to keep at bay while she highlighted the ocean waves on her current work.

Shaking the sealant spray, she covered her mouth and leaned away, wincing when the wind picked up the particles and sent them back into her face.

“Rookie mistake,” Logan said in awe, looking between her and the canvas. “Jeez, Mike. You feeling okay?”

Wiping the spray from her cheeks, she nodded. “Up too late last night,” she grumbled, taking a long drink of water to erase the taste from her mouth, almost grateful for the sobering distraction of the foul-smelling sealant.

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