Page 35 of Muzzled

“Doing okay?” she murmured, bouncing her leg against him. “Getting too hot for you?” When he chuffed in response, she signaled to Logan. “Could you grab a few more bottles of water? I think Orion’s thirsty.”

“I think Orion’s thirsty,” Logan mocked back, earning an oiled cloth across the thigh as he scampered off through the crowd with a hoot.

Through the feet and pastels and the pungent odor of pickled eggs, the scent of the Pirithous hung in the air, a stark reminder of his failure to locate his target before things became complicated.

Complicated or involved.

“You like?”

He lifted his head and looked at the canvas, his eyes drawn to the stunning details in the water splashing off Poseidon as he emerged from the Styx, the image she’d captured taken a split second before Hades had tackled his brother, earning a stern tongue-lashing from Seph. The moment was burned into his memory, the way Seph had shrieked when Hades hoisted himself from the water and chased after her. He could almost hear her laughing protests when Hades wrapped his arms around her, his drenched clothes soiling the peach fabric of her dress.

The way she’d called him over to escort her to her suite, insisting she needed protection from the brutes as she winked at her husband.

The satisfaction on her face when he heeded without pause.

Shaking the memory from his head, he woofed his approval of the piece.

“I’m guessing this is the uncle you bought the ship drawing for,” she stated, cocking her head and assessing the image of Poseidon as she signed it. “If this is accurate, he’s cute.”

He snorted and rose up to stretch his cramping hind legs, ignoring her comment about his fish-breathed uncle and taking a small pleasure in the number of people who backed farther away.

“Sit,” Micah huffed, craning her neck back and smiling when Logan appeared, water bottles in hand. “Oh, thank god. I don’t auction well.” As Logan got to work selling her piece, she knelt beside him, cracking a bottle open and filling the plastic bowl she’d borrowed from the coffee shop. “Need a walk?”

He lapped at the water as she slipped her hand through the delicate leash and waited for him to finish, her eyes scanning the rooftops until he stood, and the audience jostled to open a large path for them.

The foul stench of the shade drifted from above, significantly weaker than that of the Pirithous but equally irritating. In his intense focus on the single scent of the bloodline over the past two weeks, he’d neglected to assess the area for other threats.

A dangerous omission.

Though, in his defense, a shade was the last threat he’d expected topside.

“I think I’ll do one more when we get back,” Micah murmured as they dipped into the quieter back streets. “I’m having a hard time focusing on work with everything else bumping around in my head.”

Logan waved over at them as they returned to the site, frowning when a woman roughly grabbed two of the prints, crinkling the corners and passing him a twenty. “That’ll be thirty for two, ma’am.”

“Just take twenty,” she ordered, waving the paper at his face. “These are damaged.”

Micah muttered under her breath as Logan pointed to the sign. “Clearly says one for twenty, two for thirty. And they weren’t damaged until you crumpled the corners, miss.”

The woman folded one of the prints in half and passed it to the man beside her. “Beggars can’t be choosers. Twenty or nothing.”

Beggars?

Ryan took a step toward the woman, letting out four low barks.

“Sounds like the price just went up to forty,” a young man called out from the audience, earning a few callouts of support.

Risking another step forward, he straightened to his full height and growled low.

“Enough,” Micah snarled behind him, the metal leash snapping against his back before a gentle tug at his throat reminded him of his place. “You, sit,” she ordered, placing herself between him and the aggravated customer. “You, take those and go.” She looked the woman up and down, her nose wrinkling in disdain. “I think it’s pretty obvious you need the extra twenty far more than we do, sweetheart.”

The woman’s mouth opened, shutting when Micah’s perfect brows lifted. Muttering under her breath, the irate customer grabbed her companion by the arm and dragged him through the audience, her curses growing louder every time she was blocked by another unimpressed observer.

“Okay, everyone, show’s over,” Logan called out, whispering in Micah’s ear and receiving a quick nod. “All remaining prints are two for twenty.”

Micah led him back to her chair, the leash dangling from her wrist. “Logan’s going to pack up. Ready to get out of here?”

Chapter Thirteen

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