The Other Brother…
1236 Words
Rain.
I’m standing in a frozen triangle of hate. Brother? The word rings in my ears like it’s the most absurd word.
My head snaps between both men. How the f**k is that possible.
My shock lasts for one single breath before it shatters, replaced by a scalding, white-hot rage.
Shoving myself away from Rhysand’s protective frame, I plant myself right in front of Colt who glares as if trampling me wouldn’t be enough to quell his anger.
“You,” I hiss, my voice and my body shaking so hard. “You have a brother? A whole living, breathing human that you somehow never mentioned? In all the time we were dating? In all the years I’ve known you?”
He’s the reason I made the most stupid mistake of my life, sleeping with my ex’s elder brother.
“You didn’t think you’d be privy to everything that goes on in my life because you were my girlfriend, did you?”
“You bastard.” I let out an ugly laugh. The few guests around us are staring with their champagne glasses frozen halfway to their mouths.
“Why am I even surprised?” I continue as my voice gets louder. “You lied about everything. You lied that your precious Lila was your cousin. You lied to me every single day. You brought me here, to this party, just to humiliate me! What else, Colt? What other convenient lies have you been telling?”
Colt’s shock finally melts, replaced by that nasty sneer he always wears in disgust. He’s trying to get his power back.
“Me?” he scoffs, taking a step towards me. “Accusing me of lying? You’re the one who shows up here, shamelessly, on his arm.” He jerks his chin at Rhysand.
His eyes narrow, glittering with pure venom. “So he was the one, huh? He was the one who made you sound like such a w***e on the phone last night, wasn’t he?”
The word lands like a physical slap. I flinch, but instead of backing down, I tilt my chin even higher. The shame is gone, burned away by my fury.
“Don’t you dare,” my voice drops to a dangerous low. “In the short, short time I’ve known him, he’s already proven he’s twice the man you will ever be. At least he keeps his word.”
“Don’t be so gullible, Rain,” Colt laughs. “ you need to see through his devices. That’s how he gets all his unsuspecting victims. You’re just the latest one to fall for his act.”
I glance back at Rhysand. He hasn’t moved. He’s just watching Colt as he rolls his tongue deliberately inside his cheek. He looks like he wants to smash Colt’s face to the floor, but he’s holding himself perfectly still.
“Colt? What is all the shouting about?”
A woman with a kind, worried face and a beautiful blue dress sweeps towards us. I recognize her instantly. Elena. Colt’s mother.
Her eyes find me first, and her entire expression softens. The worry melts into pure, loving sadness.
“Rain? Oh, honey…” she moves right past Colt, taking my hands in hers. As opposed to my trembling ones, her skin is warm. “Oh, my dear, what are you doing here? I was so… I am so, so sorry about everything. Are you alright? My heart just broke when Colt told me…”
Before I can’t answer, her gaze slides past my shoulder, to the man standing behind me. Her hands drop mine as the warmth on her face vanishes, instantly replaced by bone-deep shock.
“Rhys…?”
“Mother,” Rhysand says in a tone that’s void of any affection.
“Rhysand!” She rushes to him but he doesn’t move to hug her. “I sent you dozens of messages! I begged you! Just to come to the house even if not for the party. I just wanted to see you…”
Rhysand finally peels his eyes off Colt and looks at his mother. His face is a cold, beautiful mask.
It hurts seeing him regard his own mother that way.
“And why wouldn’t I come?” He asks, his voice dripping with pure sarcasm. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
He takes a small deliberate step forward so he’s standing right beside me.
“It’s my brother’s engagement, afterall,” he continues. “I’m always happy to celebrate.”
And something about his words don’t sit right with me. It feels like I’ve been placed smack dab in the middle of family drama.
His eyes lock back onto Colt, pinning him in place.
“It’s a good thing I don’t need your blessings to get married, dear brother,” Colt spits bitterly.
“As long,” Rhysand ignores him promptly, with a soft voice, “as he’s not engaged to a particular person.”
Elena looks completely confused. “What? What are you talking about? He’s engaged to Lila. You know Lila right? She’s a wonderful girl—“
“Am I, mother?” Rhysand cuts her off smoothly. “Am I talking about Lila?”
Her face crumbles for a brief moment. “I’m not sure I catch on to who—“
Colt, on the other hand, has a face like a sheet of ice. “You stay away from her,” he hisses. Even though fear lies underneath his false bravado.
“Or what?” Rhysand asks. He takes one more slow step, closing the distance between them. The party noise around us seems to fade to a dull roar. “You’ll lie to her, too? You’ll tell her I’m dead this time? Or maybe you’ll just tell her I’m another cousin?”
That’s what breaks him.
“SHUT UP!” Colt screams. His eyes go wild. The first thing he spots is the silver tray a waiter passes by with.
With all his force, he backhands a full champagne flute off the tray.
I watch, regretfully, as it flies through the air and smashes against the marble pillar right next to my head.
I scream and flinch hard, covering my face as champagne and tiny shards of glass spray over my shoulder.
The music stops and the whole room goes dead silent.
Colt, high on his own rage and seeing my fear, turns that adrenaline back on Rhysand. He throws a wild, sloppy punch aimed straight at his brother’s calm, mocking face.
Rhysand doesn’t even flinch.
He just lifts his hand and catches Colt’s fist, an inch from his cheek. The sound of the impact is a dull thud.
Then, he wrinkles his nose in slight disgust. “You’d have to be stupid drunk to want to dare to hit me.”
“Rhysand, unhand your brother right now!” Elena hisses. “Don’t do this. At least not in front of the guests.”
He smiles. A terrifying, cold predatory smile. His grip tightens and that’s when I hear it.
A small, sick pop.
Colt cries out as his face twists in pain.
“You always were,” Rhysand whispers but his voice moves sharp and clear across the stunned room, “so. damn. slow.”
For a moment, I curse my luck for sleeping with the wrong men and having the worst type of timing.
- Writer
