Page 71 of Tethered In Blood

I huffed, and my grip tightened as I forced my gaze away from the man beside me, who should not have been smirking. Who should not have set my face ablaze with his deep, unexpected chuckle.

After some time, the shovel struck something solid.

My whole body ached, and my muscles had grown sluggish from the heat. My dress clung to my skin, damp with sweat, and the fabric stuck in places it shouldn’t. I only noticed how severe it was when I swiped at my forehead, meaning to wipe away the dampness—only for my sleeve to smear against my skin instead. I grimaced, ready to say something to break the tension with another joke, another distraction, but the words died on my tongue.

Oberon watched me.

The air lodged in my throat, and my stomach twisted. His gaze was heavy in a way that made my skin prickle.

Judging?

No.

The way his eyes dragged over me made me shrink, hyper-aware of how I must have looked, sweaty, disheveled, dirt-smudged along my arms and collarbone. I looked awful.

Since when did I care?

Oberon extended a flask toward me, halting that thought. He said nothing as he held it there in an unspoken offer. I hesitated before my fingers brushed against the cool metal. The contrast to my overheated skin sent a shiver up my spine. I chewed my lip, disregarding how my body reacted.

“Why won’t you roll up your sleeves?” His tone was softer, less teasing. More… curious.

My throat tightened, and I forced a shrug. “Sweat helps cool the body. If I roll up my sleeves, the sun will dry it too fast.” I tipped the flask against my lips. The chilled water was a shocking contrast to the heat in my chest. “Excessive sun exposure can lead to dehydration and heat exhaustion.”

Oberon’s gaze flicked to my arms before trailing back to my face. He peeled back the layers of my words and searched for the truth beneath them. It was a logical fact. Yet, beneath the weight of his silence, it was thin. I swallowed, pretended not to notice, and took another sip before returning the flask. His fingers brushed mine as he took it. It was a fleeting touch, but my pulse jumped regardless, and my skin burned in a way that was unrelated to the sun.

I forced my attention downward, willing my heart to steady as my eyes landed on the exposed ground between us. The dirt had shifted enough to reveal something hard beneath it. It wasn’t stone. It was smooth yet jagged in places, brittle bone wrapped in withered roots.

“What do you think that is?” I asked, lowering to my knees as I brushed away more soil. My fingers skimmed the surface of the uncovered shape, and an unsettling give met my touch. It wasn’t quite solid, but not fully decayed.

“You’re asking me?” Oberon’s voice held a trace of amusement.

“Sigils.”

That got his attention. “What?”

He crouched beside me. His presence sparked against my senses, his body too close. I fixed my gaze on the object in front of us, but the heat radiated from him, as did the shift of his breath and the slow, steady way he studied the shape.

I knew he was handsome—anyone with working eyes would. But sitting this close, the heat of the Vaelwick sun clinging to both of us, I was suddenly aware of every detail. The way sweat glistened on his skin, tracing the sharp angles of his forearms. The way his dark hair, damp from exertion, clung to his forehead in loose strands, curling just where it dried.

His forearm’s strong, corded muscle flexed as he braced a hand on his knee. A sheen of sweat clung to his collarbone, and his shirt was damp where it clung to his chest. And there was the way he smelled of iron, leather, and cedar, tinged with the faintest trace of salt from the effort.

Gods.

I swallowed hard.

The heat must have affected my thoughts.

“It’s… sigils,” I muttered, half-distracted, still tracing the carved markings with my fingers. Deep, careful cuts scored the surface of jagged runes etched into what appeared to be twisted bark. The more I brushed away, the less it resembled wood.No, this was something else.The ridges and contours beneath the soil formed a shape too structured, too unnatural. The bones curled inward to form a ribcage but were too long and thin.

Oberon leaned closer. His shoulder brushed mine, and his breath fanned against my cheek. The air between us became tense in a way I had no words to explain.

I dared a glance at him, and we locked eyes.

He had been staring at me.

The thought sent a bolt of heat straight through me, curling low in my stomach. My lips parted, and Oberon’s expression flickered. His brows furrowed, and the corners of his eyes twitched. His gaze drifted to my lips. His breathing changed, and his fingers flexed against his knee.

Then his eyes turned silver with a slow shift, gleaming in the dimming light. His pupils dilated and constricted as if something inside him was fighting to surface. The tension became palpable. A tingling heat pooled low in my belly, my breath caught, and my pulse became frantic and uneven.

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