18. The Power of Fear

eighteen

The Power of Fear

Rainer

I burst through the shack’s door, not bothering to shut it behind me. A feminine gasp rings out as the lump in the bed shifts. A female with light brown hair and a face full of freckles pop up, wrapping the sheet around her bare skin.

“Tynan.” I curse, pinching the bridge of my nose as I whirl around. My eyes focus on a spot of rotting wood above the door.

“Guess we’re done here,” my brother says lazily. There’s a soft slap sound and the female gasps. “I’ll find you later.”

There’s rustling behind me as someone dresses, and the female brushes past me, dressed in a drab brown dress. She turns and pauses on her way out, glancing at me before shifting her gaze to Tynan. Her brows scrunch together as she opens her mouth, but she quickly sighs and shuts it. I recognize her from the Umbra halls, but I do her a favor and avoid eye contact. Instead, I turn, taking in the small space.

Dominating two walls of the room is a kitchenette and its cupboards, leaving only a sliver of space for a tiny table, a single chair, and an unlit fireplace beside the door. The bed occupies almost the entirety of the remaining wall.

Tynan sits on his mattress, smirking while his bare feet skim the rough wood floors .

After a few beats of awkward silence, the female scurries away, slamming the door behind her.

The few pots and pans hanging over the kitchenette clatter together with the force, and Tynan laughs, low and deep.

“I like Spiritus Court more than Shyga,” he says.

It smells like sweat and mildew in here, and my nose scrunches in disdain. Tynan stands, letting the sheets fall. I glare at his face as he slowly grabs his trousers and dresses, keeping his chest bare.

“This is not a playground for your whims,” I say, balling my hand into a fist beside me. He smirks, and I notice there’s a small rust-colored stain on the corner of his lips. “You bit her?”

The muscles in my neck tighten as I fight to keep myself rooted in spot.

He raises his hands, chuckling. “She begged for it.”

My blood burns hot as my mind flicks to an image of Alessia begging for me to bite her. It’s pure hypocrisy to condemn Tynan for the very thing I enjoyed doing myself. But this is different—reckless.

Sucking in a deep breath, I scowl at him. “If I ever find out your endeavors are non -consensual, you’re done.” Before he can reply, I continue, my voice a low growl. “Not just done with this court, but dead , Tynan.”

His face grows serious, and his jaw tenses as he turns away from me and rummages through a cupboard. “I’m not that despicable, you arse.”

“I don’t know what you’re capable of.”

He throws his head back as he laughs, then glances at me over his shoulder, raising a brow. “That’s exactly the thing, little brother. You really don’t know me at all. ”

I clench my jaw tightly, not wanting to give in to the back-and-forth. In some ways, we’ve made progress over the last couple of months, but we’re a far cry from forgiveness, as Alessia would say.

“Why’d you interrupt my afternoon?” He slams a cup down, then opens his icebox and pulls out a glass milk bottle. “You want some?”

“No.” I lean against the threshold and cross my arms.

He snags a bag of cocoa powder, adding it to his cup and stirring. My gaze swoops through his shack again, and upon a second look, I realize there are no wine bottles around. I sniff the air.

No scent of liquor.

“You’ve stayed sober,” I say, uncrossing my arms.

I stride to the chair, plopping down to appear casual. Perhaps it’ll put him at ease. If he’s trying, I’ll do the same.

He chugs his chocolate milk, turns toward me, and leans against the counter. “I wasn’t drinking because I’ve got a problem.” Pausing, he sets the glass down on the counter beside him. “Scratch that. I was drinking because I have many problems—but not because I’m a feckin alcoholic.”

I rub the back of my neck awkwardly. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

He snorts. “To who? You ?”

The air around us is stiff with silence, weighed down by our unspoken words. There’s no sense in rehashing the past. Not now, at least.

“I’m here because you could be of use,” I say finally, circling back to his question from earlier.

Tynan’s lips pull into a grim line as he slowly sips his chocolate milk. He polishes it off, slams the cup down beside him again, then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You want nothing to do with me for years, then you burst into my cottage in the middle of the best sex I’ve had in…” He pauses, tilting his head as he contemplates. “Doesn’t matter. You accuse me of being a degenerate—” A sarcastic laugh filters out of him. “—and now you want my help… because it benefits you .”

Uncomfortable guilt prods at my insides. I rise, frowning. “Never mind. I shouldn’t have come here.”

“Wait,” Tynan says before I can leave. “Just tell me one thing.”

I stuff my hands in my pockets, eyeing him warily. “Go on.”

“Whyd’ya let me stay here—alone with your bonded—if you think so poorly of me?” His dark blue eyes flicker with pain before the expression extinguishes.

I sigh, scrubbing a hand over my face. “Because maybe I know you’re not as horrid as you appear,” I mumble.

“What?”

Clearing my throat, I try again, “Maybe I misjudged you, and you’re not as… depraved as I like to think.”

When I refocus my eyes on him, he’s smirking. “That wasn’t so bad, eh?”

“The worst, actually,” I mutter. He’s not wrong. In many ways, I suppose it’s easier to see the worst in the people we keep at arm’s length. It makes us feel better when we’re the ones doing them wrong.

Even if we’re blind to our actions .

He’s at my side in two strides, wrapping his beefy arm around my neck and pulling me in. “All right, little brother. What do you need my help with?”

Scowling, I push him off me and brush my hair out of my face. “Your glamour.”

“You’re asking me to use it for once?”

“If you’re interested, I’d like to test the limits of it… See just how far it stretches and how powerful it really is.”

Tynan’s eyes narrow, and he studies me. A few beats pass before his lips curve up into a grin. “Only if you promise not to cry when you realize how much more powerful I am than you, little brother.”

I try not to roll my eyes. He might be a rough bastard from the streets of Ethyria, bred in the underground fights, but I could take him. His fists have nothing on the power of fear.