Page 96 of Tethered In Blood

After a few steps, a hand gripped my arm and spun me around. My heart kicked against my breast, my muscles stiffened, and my free hand twitched toward the dagger at my thigh.

The elf stood too close, his grin lazy and confident. Oberon stopped mid-step. His onyx eyes burned, and his entire body was taut, like a predator that caught the smell of something foul. The elf dared to laugh under the weight of that glare, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Apologies,” he said, his grin never faltering. “I was just tryin’ to catch up to you.”

My pulse steadied as I adjusted my stance, shifting my weight back. He was taller than me, and there was an ease in his movement and confidence in his smile that irritated me. Oberon took another step toward us. I lifted my hand in his direction without looking at him, issuing a silent command. “Go find out what Garrick learned,” I said, keeping my tone even. A heavy silence fell between us that carried the promise of violence.

He remained there, likely burning daggers into the elf’s skull with a look that could have flayed him where he stood. I thought he might have ignored me for a long, stretched-out moment. That he would have stepped in, consequences be damned, until a sharp exhale cut through the air, carrying the weight of leashed restraint, followed by retreating footsteps.

Oberon had turned and stalked toward Garrick, but tension still rippled through his frame, tightening his shoulders and the way he moved. He was still listening.

I refocused my attention on the elf before me. “So,” I said, tilting my head, watching him as closely as he watched me. “Who are you?”

“Fiery one, aye?” He chuckled, his smirk curling like smoke.

I folded my hands over my journal and turned to face him, keeping my expression neutral and giving him nothing to read. “Well, youdidjust grab me.”

His lips twitched with amusement, but at least he had the decency to shove his hands into his pockets. “Ididcall out to you, but you didn’t stop.”

“I didn’t think you were referring to me.”

His gaze lingered on me as if he were trying to decide whether I was joking. “You are, though.” His voice dipped, confidence wavering. “Beautiful, I mean.” A brief, awkward chuckle followed as he glanced away.

My cheeks burned.Was he blind? Why was I reacting?I cleared my throat and grasped my journal tighter, feeling the familiar pressure of leather against my fingers. The elf shifted his weight, and his smirk faded.

“I heard you askin’ questions.”

29

Oberon

GARRICKRAMBLEDONbesideme, filling me in on everything he had learned. At least half of the information was relevant to the rising tensions between the elves and humans and the power plays that shifted beneath the surface. The rest was just him boasting, spinning tales of his so-called exploits, and dropping the names of women he had flirted with as if any of it fucking mattered.

I wasn’t listening. I couldn’t. My focus was locked on the man in front of Quinn. He had the fucking nerve to touch her. To grab her arm and stop her from following me. And she let him, without so much as a glance my way, without giving me the chance to guard her.

My jaw clenched so tight I felt the tension crawl up my skull, winding through my bones, ready to snap. I took in every inch of the bastard—his stance, his grip, the casual ease with which he leaned into her space. He wasn’t a threat in the way I had been trained to recognize one. He wasn’t armed, wasn’t calculating his next move like a predator, and wasn’t exuding the danger I could carve through with steel. But none of that mattered.

My blood still burned.

Then she blushed.

The heat that curled through my chest was nothing short of violent. A sharp ache pulsed through my jaw as my teeth ground together, the pressure so intense it sent a dull throb up to my temple. This feeling, the twisting in my gut and simmering rage beneath my skin, was unpleasant.

I had felt it before. It has happened too many times. Every single time she interacted with others, they spoke to her, looked at her, and stood too close to her. It was there. This sharp, irrational possessiveness was coiled tight in my chest. It made no sense. It wasn’t logical. It had nothing to do with strategy, survival, or anything I had spent my life training for.

And it only worsened after Vaelwick. After her blood soaked my hands. After she unraveled in my arms, and I saw—

Beside me, Garrick let out a low whistle, dragging my focus just long enough for me to register his presence again. I had almost forgotten he was there, too caught in the slow, simmering burn beneath my skin. “What has you brooding this time, Sinclaire?” he asked with amusement, thick with the insufferable arrogance he carried.

It made my fingers twitch, and my knuckles ache with the urge to plunge my fist into his smirking face. “Nothing,” I clipped, the word more of a growl than a response.

He let out a slow, unconvinced hum. “Doesn’t look like ‘nothing’.” His gaze flicked toward Quinn. And when I didn’t respond, his smirk deepened. I hated the knowing look that crossed his face. “You’re staring daggers into them.”

I couldn’t answer. If I had opened my mouth, I might have said things I wasn’t ready to admit—words that laid too much bare and unraveled thoughts I hadn’t untangled in my mind.

After a beat, he pressed further. “You look pissed, mate.”

My knuckles cracked. The muscle in my jaw ached from clenching. “I don’t like the way he looks at her. That’s all.”

Garrick’s smirk widened, and his eyes gleamed with far too much enjoyment. “Like what?”

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