Page 81 of Muzzled

Rabid.

Shattered.

Broken.

She brought her knees to her chest, her energy depleting while the hound skulked toward her again, his head bowed. “Too bad I left the pink leash up there,” she smiled softly, pointing at the carved stone ceiling. “Maybe Alex can bring it back for me one of these days, since it doesn’t look like I’ll be traveling anytime soon.”

He hesitated at her feet, his amber and brown eyes raking over her features as the old woman padded to his side and knelt, a spool in her hand, her gnarled fingers gently separating the thread into two.

“Two parts of a whole,” she said quietly. “On your word, Orion, I will make this right.”

Circling Micah one last time, he nuzzled her forehead and closed his eyes, resting his chin on her head as his tail thumped against the marble.

“Think that’ll have to do, Attie,” Bo called over. “He can’t talk right now.”

*

Ryan snapped atDio’s hand, growling when the god gave him a well-deserved thwack on the nose.

“That’s enough out of you, boy. You’re damn lucky I like you,” the god muttered, checking Micah’s pulse before he gently tilted her head from side to side. “Until those threads are secure and spinning, I’m on the hook for this girl’s existence.” His normally jovial nature was tampered with the seriousness of his work. “They always remember the revelry. Never remember the rebirth,” he grumbled, sitting back in his chair beside Micah’s bed. “Drunken soiree this, ménage à trois that. But bringing the dead back to life? Apparently not as great a party trick as winemaking.”

Half listening while the god continued to lament on his woes, he fought against the overpowering need to sleep himself. He was kept awake solely by his determination to remain on guard at Micah’s side, nudging her hand periodically to reassure himself she was real.

Their lifelines would remain weakened in stasis until Atropos’s wizened fingers finished winding the fibers of his divided thread onto their two spools, carefully avoiding the cursed ones of Micah’s former line.

He’d heard every word the old Fate said before she returned to the base of Olympus, but nothing had been able to puncture through the overwhelming swirl of emotions engulfing him when he finally realized Micah was there, sitting in the reception hall of the underworld.

He lay his head on the bed and watched her sleep, shuffling his hind legs away from Dio’s feet when the god lounged back in his chair, crossed his arms over his chest, and began to snore.

It had been a long three days for Dionysus as well.

Ryan’s refusal to release Micah upon their reentry to the underworld had made the situation infinitely more precarious for Dio, his ability to reawaken her tested as the Pirithous bloodline untangled from her own. Precious time had been wasted when Ryan had fought the intrusion of the deities who were desperate to repair the damage they’d caused with their meddling.

Inching closer to the bed, he closed his eyes.

That damn muzzle had saved Micah’s life.

That damn muzzle, and the interference of an old Fate who was still hard at work ensuring his spliced lifeline was taking hold on Micah’s spool.

“Her existence will forever be tied to yours,” she’d warned. “The cutting of one line will mean the cutting of both.”

Burrowing his head into the blanket, he chuffed as he recalled Micah’s response.

“What if his crush on me is just a phase? Does he at least have an out on that end?”

Bo and Alex had responded with matching stances, their arms crossed and brows lifted, while they looked pointedly between her and the large hound curled tight around her.

With a loud exhale, she rolled over and tossed her arm over him, falling back into the deep sleep Dio had repeatedly assured him was normal for rebirths. Ignoring the discomfort in his position, he relaxed under her hand and waited for Atropos to finish spinning her magic.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Ryan lolled hishead back against the marble edge of the bath and closed his eyes. “Anything yet?”

Bo snorted in response. “Calm the fuck down, Romeo. It’s going to take a little longer for her to recover than you since she, I don’t know, fucking died.”

A chill ran through him with the flippant remark and he slid under the water for a final rinse before emerging from the bath cleaner than he’d been in days. “Keep your voice down,” he grumbled, wrapping a towel around his hips and rubbing another over his dripping hair. “I was just checking.”

Alex handed him a fresh chiton and a plain woven rope. “You’ve just checked a thousand times in the past three hours. Trust me, when she wakes, you’ll be the second to know.”

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