Page 105 of Tethered In Blood

The crack of bone echoed around us. I gasped, and the elf staggered back, blood gushing from his nose. His hands shot up to clutch his face as his expression shifted from shock to one of impressed surprise. The market went silent as conversations stopped and people watched.

Oberon took a step forward, looming over the man. His entire body was coiled tight, and his breathing was ragged with restrained violence. The shadows that clung to the sharp angles of his face made him appear less like a knight and more like the assassin he was. “Touch her again,” he growled, his voice so low that it sent shivers down my spine. “And I will tear your fucking arm off.”

My stomach dropped.

Garrick’s stopped just behind me, panting. “Oh shit. Are you okay, Freckles?”

My fingers wrapped around Oberon’s arm and gripped harder than I meant to, as if I could hold him back. “I’m fine,” I murmured, trying to steady my breath and break through the tension that was wrapping around us like a noose. “Sinclaire, your eyes. You can’t do this here.” Heat radiated from him, and tension thrummed through his body. His breathing remained ragged but controlled.

“Didn’t think you’d be the jealous type, Fae.” The elf grinned. Not afraid or concerned. His lips twitched, wanting to smirk more, but he was holding back. He edged Oberon, testing him to see how far he could push. Seeing if he cared.

Gods.

My grip tightened on Oberon’s sleeve. It was wrong. Something was amiss about this elven man from the moment he walked down the docks. The way the fishers had stared at him. The way he spoke of the sea, knowing yet uncaring.

The way he looked at me.

It hadn’t just been arrogance. It had been calculated. A push. A test. A trap. Yet Oberon still dared him. His fingers twitched at his sides, and his body remained taut.

He was about to snap.

A slow whistle cut through the tension. “Well, this just got interesting,” Garrick muttered behind us.

My grip tightened. “Let’s just go.” I stepped back. It took every ounce of effort and willpower to pull Oberon away. Even as I tugged him toward the tavern, the tension remained coiled inside him, waiting, seething, and ready to strike the moment I let go.

Garrick glared at the elf as we turned away—an expression that I hadn’t seen from him before. Which meant he knew what Oberon’s reaction meant too. If the elves had been wary of us before, they would become even more cautious now. The last thing we needed was Oberon—a Fae—giving them a reason to distrust us even more. The last thingheneeded was to have even more eyes watching his every move, waiting for him to slip.

And if that elf was tied to the thing in the sea, if he wasn’t just another man with too much confidence, then it knew how to rile him. It had seen his rage. It had seen his weakness.

Garrick exhaled when we stepped into the room and rubbed a hand over his face. “I’ve never seen you crack on someone except in battle,” he muttered, leaning against the table. His usual lighthearted tone was gone, replaced by a more serious demeanor. “You held it together all day, Sinclaire. What made you snap?”

He just stood there, his back to us, shoulders rising and falling with the weight of whatever was still clawing at him. His fingers curled, then flexed at his sides. He still hadn’t let go of the anger. It had rooted itself too deep beneath his skin.

I swallowed hard against my dry throat. It wasn’t just because he had to protect me. It was how the man had looked at him, how he had smirked after he touched me, and how he had laughed when Oberon reacted. It wasn’t just arrogance—it was baiting.

And Oberon took it.

His precious ironclad control had cracked. And for Oberon, that had to be maddening. Still, he didn’t answer Garrick. He just pressed his hands against the wooden table.

The tense silence lingered until I spoke. “It’s done now. We need to focus on the mission.”

Oberon huffed a bitter, humorless sound, and his knuckles turned white against the table.

Garrick, surprisingly, let the silence settle for a moment longer before pushing off from the wall. “Well,” he sighed, “as much as I enjoyed watching you pummel that smug bastard, she’s right.” He grinned, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “So, unless you want to put a leash on him, Freckles, I suggest we all find a way to cool off before we start another war in this cursed little town.”

Oberon turned, his silver gaze flicking to Garrick. But he still didn’t say a word. Garrick’s smirk faded as he studied Oberon. His usual ease was still there, but his gaze sharpened as he tried to read him and make sense of what had happened. Oberon met his stare without flinching. The tension in his shoulders hadn’t eased. He looked ready to strike again if given a reason.

I swallowed and spoke carefully, trying to shift the focus before another fight broke out. “I don’t know if this is a good time,” I muttered, flipping open my journal. “But he may be related to whatever’s happening with the sea.” I hesitated, then added, “Judging by the fact you just broke his nose, I assume you knew, too.”

Oberon’s jaw ticked as his gaze landed on me. He watched me with a deeper intensity than he had with Garrick, who hummed in thought and crossed his arms. “What he said about the sea is still bugging me,” he admitted. “I don’t see how he’s connected, though.”

I traced my fingers along the notes I had written earlier, scanning my frantic handwriting. The fisher’s presence still lingered in the back of my mind, how he had looked at me and how the villagers had watched him, as if he were tolerated. The way he smirked when Oberon snapped showed that he wanted him to lose control.

“He knew something,” I said, my voice quieter. “I just don’t know what.”

Oberon grunted, still rigid, his arms crossed over his chest. “I should have killed him,” he muttered, more to himself than to us.

I stiffened.

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