Page 7 of Of Nightmares & Fire (Elusive Umbra #1)

Chapter seven

Kyros

I swear Mavros is going to be the death of me.

The bastard always needs a reminder to stick to the task at hand.

He is too frivolous with life. Always diving in headfirst and thinking to ask how deep the water is only as he is about to breach the surface.

Grinding my teeth, I rip my ale-soiled shirt off and throw it to Viltarin.

He bundles the fabric into a ball and tosses it to the side with a huge grin on his face.

I’m sweating. My frustration is already overheating me.

“Who pissed in your oats this morning, Ky?” Tarin laughs, and I level him with a halfhearted glare. He's not the one who is pissing me off. Though I can’t say exactly who is more—the mystery woman or my asshole brother.

“You can be next, Tarin.” I bark out as Mavros removes his shirt next and starts hopping around like a hot coal in a fire.

We're all bored, and when men such as us get bored, there are only three things that will keep us from killing each other. The three F’s: Fucking, fighting, or food.

Since there are not a lot of options for the first F, we opt for the second two even if the food here is next to shit.

The makeshift sparring circle was approved by the barmaid, who also seems to be the ward of this tavern.

So long as we promise to keep the furniture out of the fights.

Mavros and I came out of the womb fighting with each other.

Although he doesn’t remember, he blocked out much of our childhood.

I remember it all. Likely something about our personality traits and how we handle trauma.

While Mavros deflects, I let everything in.

Keep things contained in little boxes. An arsenal of memories to bring with me to any kind of fight.

I use them as fuel to the raging fire that’s always within me. Especially here in Eathian.

“Oh, you can definitely count me in to fight the winner.” Tarin chuckles, adding, “We all know it’s going to be Kyros.

Don’t we, boys?” He rouses the crowd that is forming around us.

All are betting on who will win the match.

He smirks as he picks his teeth with the sharp point of a small knife.

Goading Mavros this early in the morning is going to make this fight harder for me.

“Alright, brother, let’s see what you’ve got today.

I must say I'm a little tired after caring for my new roommate.” He says with that damned wink as he readies himself in a crouch, ready to attack.

I ignore the fact that he is trying to goad me with the woman.

He thinks I have some sort of affection for her after he saw me watching her at the stairs.

Something about her just seems familiar, and I can’t put my finger on it.

But now more than ever I want to figure it out.

I mirror his stance, but where he is bouncing from foot to foot, I am a statue.

My game is waiting. Letting the attacks come to me and then pouncing.

I watch his feet. Mavros is good. Better than most, even.

He is one of the only true competition that I have ever gone up against, but he’s cocky.

His overconfidence makes him sloppy at times.

Give him a little show, and he will always gloat.

When that happens—he goes down just as hard as the rest of them.

He goes low for his first move as he aims for my legs.

I jump, rolling over his body, my back pressed to his, and I land behind him.

As he whirls around, he’s ready to block my coming attack.

I throw my body down hard, leading with my fist, and he deflects easily enough, just as I knew he would.

He smiles, arms wide, gloating. He doesn’t see me loading my weight on one leg and then pushing off in a whirling kick.

The top of my bare foot jars the side of his face.

“First blood is mine.” I growl, then ready myself for a counterattack.

Wiping his bloody smile with the back of his hand, he sucks his teeth and tuts at me before he tries to drop low in a sweeping kick to take my feet from me.

We aren’t fighting with weapons, only our bodies.

It’s one of the best forms of release. Men often rely on weapons, and while I would use my magick back home, my hands are just as well suited to hurt an opponent as my magick can .

“First blood, maybe, but don't be jealous when I get the first kiss.” He taunts.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I growl as he lunges, and I spin out of his reach at the last moment.

“The girl. I saw the moon eyes you were giving her.” His smile is goading, and as I sense her merely enter the room, my anger wins out.

Now, it's me who lunges. He doesn’t get away.

Our bodies collide, and we wrestle to get the other to the ground.

His fist lands at my ribs, and with a wheeze I turn, wrapping my arm around his throat from behind.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.

You need to pay attention to why we are here.

Don’t let beauty distract you!” I growl fiercely into his ear; no one else can hear what we're talking about.

The people surrounding the fight are much too rambunctious for our hushed words to be caught.

He chokes and sputters with my bicep and forearm cutting off his airway, and I hold tight, ready to take the win.

When he finally concedes with a tap on my arm, the crowd goes wild with cheers and laughter. I push him away from me with a grunt.

“I think maybe you’re trying to tell yourself that, brother.

” He coughs, still laughing. Clenching my teeth, I turn away and head to the bar.

Maybe he’s right, and I do need to loosen up a little.

It’s been mission after mission since our father died.

Not our biological father, but the man who was in charge of raising us.

Maybe I’ve been trying to bury myself in jobs so I don’t have to deal with yet another personal loss.

It doesn’t matter. It’s not hurting anyone except the ones that I’m tasked to hurt .

I tap the bar, and the barmaid sets down a tumbler of whiskey, and I do my best not to look at the woman I know is across the room, but apparently when it comes to her, I lack all self-control just like Mavros says.

She stands next to Zinya at the opposite side of the L-shaped bar wearing the fucking leathers that Zinya wears, leaving nothing to the imagination.

The two men that Zinya tells to eat shit keep staring just as I do, but she doesn’t look at them.

She stares right back at me. Those blue eyes nearly drowning me in the desert.

When she looks away, it breaks the spell she has on me, and I shove away from the bar, knock back the rest of my drink, and storm out into the back hallway. I don’t know where I’m going, but anywhere has to be better than staring at her like a lost fawn.

In the back hall I see a door that has to lead to the back alley behind the tavern, and I crack it open.

Rain so heavy it's like a curtain of water, obscuring all visibility beyond, falls from the dark gray sky.

The awning above the door looks as though it's seen better days and is near buckling with the onslaught of water.

I grit my teeth and punch the door frame.

“Damn, I'd hate to hear what that frame said to deserve a sucker punch.” Mavros' voice scrapes at my eardrums, and I turn in a quick spin and slam him against the wall. He chuckles, licking some of the dried blood on his lip, but says nothing.

“This is the most important job we have ever held, Mavros! What don’t you understand about that?

” I growl through bared teeth. I want so badly to just beat his ass into submission or force him to return to Diemos.

He knows I won't do either, though. Regardless of how much of a pain in the ass he is, he is my twin brother, and to be separated from him when he is all I have left would be a fate worse than death.

“You keep saying that…” he drawls, his eyes jumping between mine.

“Then why don’t you listen?” I say, pushing harder on the arm barring his chest and pinning him to the wall.

“Because it’s just another job, Ky. Nothing about this is any different than any others.

It’s where we are that has you all bent out of shape.

It’s where we’re headed and who we're going to be face-to-face with. Why don’t you just admit that you’re afraid that you won’t be able to do it?

” He says with his lip curled, yet there is no anger coming from him.

His eyes are pleading and brows dropped in concern, but no anger. No, that’s all mine.

I’m angry with myself, and I’m fucking pissed off that he’s right.

The storm has served to only allow me to simmer with my hatred.

No amount of preparation would be enough for me to walk into that court and look King Connard Casimir in the eye and pretend to want anything to do with his bitch daughter…

and now, just when I thought I was ready, the storm has let the vile emotion pool in my gut and fester like a wound.

“Just another job or not, you need to pay attention to it. You need to already be in character, Mavros. You shouldn’t be day drinking, flirting, and fucking your way up to the palace steps.”

“And what about you, Kyros? That’s not water I smell on your breath.

And as for flirting and fucking… that’s just me, brother; it won’t stop when we get to the palace.

I’ll have that princess folded in half after the first night.

Maybe we can share? Split roast her over daddy dearest, while he chokes on his own blood. ” He smiles wickedly.

“You’re sick, you know that?” I respond as I let him go. Standing upright, I tug my tunic on.

“Look, if it makes you feel any better, as soon as the rain lets up, it’s back to business.

I will get my shit together, and we will head to the palace with no more stops.

No more fucking around.” He pats me on the chest, and I glare at him.

“Until then, though, I plan to have a little fun in our downtime, so fuck off and stay out of my way.” He turns on his heel and swaggers back through the door I came.

I grind my teeth and close my eyes, taking several deep breaths to gather myself before I, too, head back into the tavern. With nowhere else to go, I step back into the chaos that it keeps while we wait out the remainder of the storm.