Page 84 of Muzzled

Micah’s laughter pierced the air, and his tension reduced tenfold. “As decent as it’s going to be in this getup,” she called out when he opened the door. Her voice lowered as she turned her attention back to her companion. “Not so tight. Damn.”

He rounded the corner into her room, freezing in his tracks as he caught sight of Micah lounging on a chaise, her white chiton brilliant against the flaming red of her hair. She yanked inelegantly at the gold ropes looped across her body, her hands swatted away by the goddess standing behind her, brush in hand.

“Orion.”

He blinked and looked at Seph’s expectant face. “Huh?” His mistress fixed him with a meaningful stare, and he exhaled, returning his gaze to Micah. “Right. Food. Bo?”

His brother strode past him with the half-eaten tray and set it on Micah’s lap. “Looking totally doable, dead girl.” Turning, he shook his head with exaggerated disappointment. “You’re supposed to compliment the lady, dumbass.”

He glared at Bo as he sauntered away, then sat on the edge of the bed. “Are you okay? How are you feeling? Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I’m a little tired, but feeling so much more human.” She poked at the food, picking up a piece of smoked ham and wrapping it around a slice of cheese. “Though I have this real urge to pose a lot. And drape across chairs.”

Persephone squeezed between them, leveling him with a harsh look before she walked toward the door. “I’ll be by later to check in on you, honey,” she called over to Micah. “And Orion? Your brother is correct.”

Micah smirked as the goddess left. “Tell me I’m pretty.”

“Kind of loses the impact now,” he grumbled, leaning forward. “But if it counts for anything, that outfit had me completely dumbstruck. Has me completely dumbstruck. Any problems with Seph?”

Looking between the white dress and the strawberries on her tray, she wrinkled her nose and selected a cucumber instead. “None. She’s pretty intense, but I think she really feels bad for her part in all this.” Chewing for a moment, she tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “How areyouholding up? I’ve gained half of the lifeline of a deity. You’ve lost half. It’s got to be throwing you.”

“I’m good,” he replied, frowning at the slight tremor in her hand as she set the tray aside.

Catching him, she shoved her fingers under her legs and reclined back. “Don’t you dare get all anxious about that,” she chastised, releasing her hands to fiddle with the gold rope. “Dio said a week, so you can start needlessly panicking if I’m not totally good in seven days.”

“Guaranteed I will.”

They sat in silence, her watching his reactions while he scrutinized her every breath.

*

If Micah thoughtRyan was tightly wound topside, in the underworld, sitting across from her at an elaborate banquet table, he was one unexpected move away from spontaneously combusting.

For five days, he’d hovered in her peripheral, silently observing while Dionysus and Persephone filtered in and out of the room. He tracked them as they escorted her through the seemingly unending maze of halls, anticipated her every need long before she herself did. He went as far as sleeping on the floor outside her room, his arms crossed over his chest while he leaned against the marble wall and stole whatever rest he felt he could.

What he hadn’t done was talk with her.

They’d spoken at each other, pleasantries exchanged by rote, mannered pleases and thank-yous, polite how-do-you-dos answered with scripted replies.

But for the hours upon hours they revolved around each other’s spheres, he refused to breach the unspoken wall that had risen between them, refused to allow her to breach it, either.

“Salad?”

Blinking back into the moment, she smiled and shook her head. “No, thank-you.”

He passed the bowl along the line. “Are you sure you’ve eaten enough?”

She glanced around the table to ensure the others were too engrossed with their own conversations to pay any notice. “I’m sure I’vehadenough,” she whispered. “Does that count?”

His jaw twitched and he carefully sliced his steak. “Had enough of what?”

Giving Bo a tight smile when he looked over at them, she pulled her chair closer to the table. “Enough of this. This awkwardness. This tension. This…” She gestured between them, at a loss for words. “This.”

Setting his fork and knife down, he leaned forward. “If you need me to back off—”

“I need you to stop treating me like a job,” she hissed. “Again.”

His eyes darkened and he pushed away from the table, storming from the room. The attention of the rest of the group locked onto her in a hushed anticipation.

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