Warrior's Heart: Iron Portal Series (Paranormal Romance) (16 page)

“Better?” The woman’s mismatched eyes were warm and caring.

She blinked a few times, moved her head around. “You…you healed me?”

“Just put you back on the right track, rather than have it run its course.”

Zara looked around for the first time, testing out her head. An expression of wonder was plastered across Darius’s face. He looked like a kid at a theme park. “I feel a lot better. Thank you.”

She glanced at Vince and saw the tense set of his shoulders relax as he released a deep breath.

Olivia smiled. “Glad I could help.”

A cart pulled by two grey horses stood in front of them. The broad-shouldered man named Toryn helped them in, while Rickert swung a leg up and over the back of a majestic black stallion.

Darius tugged at her arm, peppering her with a million questions as the cart jolted forward. She did her best to answer them.

“You’re right. There are no cars over here.”

“Yes, we’re going to an actual castle.”

“I’m sure you can learn to ride a horse.”

The journey to Crestenfahl took several days. Because the town would soon be hosting the Warrior Games, the cart path was crowded with spectators, vendors, and entertainers. There were young men as well, traveling in groups or alone. They were going to be competing in the hopes of being asked to join the Guild, much like her brother had many years ago.

Having several Iron Guild warriors in their group did have its perks, however. Heads turned, people waved, and at every inn, they were given the best accommodations.

Vince hadn’t said much since leaving the portal. Deep in thought, he stared off into the distance as the cart swayed, a slight frown on his face. At their first stop, he pulled Rickert aside and the two carried on a hushed conversation. The next morning, she was surprised when the stable hand saddled up a dark, big-boned gelding and gave Vince a leg up. As far as she knew, he wasn’t an experienced horseman. But he took to it quickly, sitting tall in the saddle, his hands soft on the reins, legs relaxed. Asher had acquired a horse, too, and from then on out, the three of them rode together, while the women and Darius rode in the cart.

“So is this a hen house now with one little rooster?” Olivia stretched out her legs and nudged Darius with her toe.

“Seems like it,” Zara said in a distracted voice.

“A rooster?” Darius asked.

She smiled despite herself. “Roosters are boys and hens are girls.”

“Any idea what’s going on with those two?” Olivia asked.

“Afraid not. I was hoping you did. Vince hasn’t said a word…” He’d said little last night, in fact, even when she’d asked. They’d shared a large featherbed with Darius—who filled the chasm of quiet between them. “Rickert hasn’t said anything to you?” she asked Neyla.

The woman shook her head, making her high blond ponytail swing across her shoulders. “I can tell he’s worried about something.” She rubbed her belly. “And for once, it’s not the baby.”

L
ocated
on the top of a low rise and surrounded by rolling fields, the walled city of Crestenfahl was bustling with activity. Vendors were setting up both inside and outside the gates, selling everything from textiles to
ogappa
cider. There were jugglers, musicians and fortunetellers. Travelers without accommodations inside the castle walls were erecting colorful tents in the fields. To say that excitement and anticipation hung in the air was an understatement.

Darius sprang to his feet, feeling it too. “I didn’t know there was going to be a carnival!”

“I didn’t know either.” She’d been to the Games once when her father had taken their family, but that was so long ago now that the details had all but faded from her memory.

Zara turned to check out Vince’s reaction to all this activity. He rode alongside the cart, staring intently at the open gates. She followed his gaze, trying to figure out what had captured his attention. A silver-haired woman stood apart from the crowd, hand shading her eyes from the setting sun and looking in this direction.

Vince mumbled something and urged the chestnut forward. The horse dropped his head a notch and eased into a big, rolling canter. Zara marveled once again at how comfortable Vince seemed on horseback. At the bottom of the hill, there were too many people to navigate around, so he reined in the animal, jumped off and ran the rest of the way on foot.

Tears stung the backs of her eyes as she watched the woman run toward Vince at a much slower pace. When he got to her, he fell to his knees and wrapped his arms around her waist, like a little boy would do. The older woman tilted his face up, stared at him for a moment, and then showered him with kisses.

Darius jumped from the cart as soon as it stopped. “Mom, who is that lady?”

The answer caught in her throat as she followed him down. “That’s your grandma, honey. Your dad’s mom.”

“It looks like she’s crying.”

“That’s because she hasn’t seen him for a very long time.” She couldn’t imagine what the woman had gone through, being separated from her son for so long and thinking him dead.

She was trying to decide whether to hang back to give Vince and his mother a chance to share this private moment alone, but then Olivia grabbed her hand, tugging her and Darius up the hill.

“Can you believe it, Mom?” Olivia said, laughing through her own tears as she hugged her.

“It’s a miracle indeed.” The woman didn’t shift her gaze from Vince’s face. She was soaking in every detail.

Vince swiped at his eyes and rose. “Mom, this is…” Voice cracking with emotion, he cleared his throat to cover it up.

Without waiting for him to recover, Zara smiled and extended her hand. “Mrs. Crawford, I’m Zara.”

The woman’s grasp was warm and strong. “So you’re the one who saved my son’s life.” Before Zara could reply, Vince’s mom pulled her into a fierce embrace that nearly knocked the breath out of her. She smelled like sugar and rosemary. “And none of this
Mrs.
business. I’m Mom or Alexandra.”

“And this,” Vince said, his hands on Darius’s shoulders as he walked him forward, “is my son.”

Darius looked uncomfortable but he went along with it.

Alexandra’s face went from confusion to amazement to pure joy as the weight of Vince’s words sunk in. “Your son? But…but… This…this is my grandbaby?”

Vince nodded, pride reflected in his eyes. “His name is—” he paused for effect “—Darius Vincent.”

Up until now, the woman’s eyes had been dry. Not any longer. Tears streamed down both cheeks as she pulled Darius close and kissed the top of his head. The boy managed to flash Zara a lopsided smile even though he was pressed against his grandmother’s bosom, an awkward enough position to be in when you actually knew the person.

Alexandra kissed the back of Zara’s hand, a gesture she found so charming. “You named him after Vince, who was named after his father. Thank you.” Her voice caught. “You don’t know how much that means to me.”

Zara had a pretty good idea, though.

As they walked through the gates of Crestenfahl, Zara couldn’t help thinking about her own mother. She wished that—

No, don’t go there.

She’d learned a long time ago that you couldn’t live someone else’s life for them. You could only live your own. This…this right here would have to be enough.

T
he main door
of the castle creaked loudly as it opened. Once they were inside, it took a moment for Vince’s eyes to adjust to the dim lighting.

They were in a great hall with a wood-beamed ceiling that soared above them and ornate tapestries lined the stone walls. Sounds of laughter and merriment came from a long table at the far end of the room. Vince turned to see an older couple approaching—a man dressed in breeches and a fine waistcoat and a woman in a silver gown.

“Welcome to Castle Crestenfahl.” The man spread his hands wide. “We’ve been expecting you.”

Rickert introduced them as Lord and Lady D’Angelus, his uncle and aunt. A little boy ran up to Rickert and the man hoisted him up.

A young woman joined them and introduced herself as Petra, their daughter.

“And how was your journey?” Lady D'Angelus asked.

“Very long,” Zara replied. “But we’re glad to finally be here. Thank you for your hospitality.”

“It is our pleasure.”

A young girl peeked her head around Petra’s skirts. “There used to be a portal that was closer, but it had to be destroyed.”

Rickert’s jaw visibly tightened. As punishment for bringing Neyla through—a Pacifican soldier—and lying about it, he’d had to destroy the portal with a pickaxe.

“Shh,” Petra said, flashing Rickert an apologetic smile. “We don’t need to talk about that now.”

“Come,” Lord D'Angelus said. “You’re just in time for evening meal.”

They followed him into a great room where a huge table was set with piles of food. An uncomfortable hush fell over the twenty or so people who were seated around it, and Vince wondered if he was the cause. Neyla had told him that Cascadians, as a whole, could be very wary of strangers. Especially those from Pacifica.

Benches scraped on the stone floor as room was made around the table for them. While Zara served Darius, Vince helped himself to several roasted pieces of meat from the heaping platter in front of him. Charred corn on the cob slathered with butter. Thinly sliced vegetables that resembled green tomatoes. Thick chunks of crusty bread. Only a wooden spoon sat next to his plate. No fork or knife. He glanced around to see how people were eating. They used their spoons, their bread and their fingers. And a few were using knives that he suspected had been tucked into their belts.

When in Rome…

He grabbed a drumstick in one hand and took a bite. Tender and moist, the meat fell off the bone and melted in his mouth. He took a bigger bite. Holy fuck the sauce was good. Dark brown, rich and slightly earthy, like it was made with mushrooms. He wasted no time grabbing his bread and sopping up more.

Lord D'Angelus, seated at the head of the table, stood and tapped a knife on his tankard.

Utensils, plates and mugs clattered as everyone looked up from their plates in expectation.

“Praise the Fates,” he said, lifting his drink, his voice booming through the Great Hall. “Thank you for this bountiful meal.”

Everyone lifted their drinks. Vince scrambled to grab his. “Praise be the Fates,” people answered in unison.

“We’re here to celebrate not only the upcoming Games, but to give thanks to a great warrior in our midst.”

A murmur reverberated across the table and people stirred in their seats. There were several Iron Guild warriors present that Vince hadn’t met yet. He fidgeted, feeling uncomfortable and out of place.

Lord D’Angelus glanced over the crowd of people, a proud, regal expression on his face. “Vince Crawford, brother to the Healer Olivia and son to the lovely Alexandra, was imprisoned by the Pacifican army for ten years. His crime? He refused to divulge the location of a hidden portal that led straight to our world. There is no doubt in my mind that his courageous refusal to cooperate saved countless Cascadian lives. He is an outsider, you say, but that is pure hogwash. Vince has Cascadian blood flowing through his veins for his mother was but an infant when Pacificans raided a village and took her from her family.”

Vince glanced over at Asher. The man was grinning ear to ear. “Did you tell him all that?”

“I wasn’t the only one.”

Darius sat between him, his eyes wide.

People pounded their utensils on the table and someone whistled.

Almost immediately, the tone in the room changed. He went from zero to hero in ten seconds flat. People smiled at him. Someone clapped him on the back. With a hand on the back of his chair, a serving girl leaned forward to pour a dark red wine into his tankard. Her breasts, bursting over the top of her bodice, were just inches from his face.

“Uh, thanks,” he muttered.

Her cheeks reddened, then she ducked her head and turned away.

He took another bite of his food when a young woman sitting across from him asked whether he wanted some stew. If he remembered correctly from the introductions earlier, she was one of Lord D'Angelus’s daughters.

Before he could answer, Zara spoke up. “I’ve got it.” She reached across the table, snatched the serving terrine from the surprised young woman and dished the thick stew onto his trencher.

His lips quirked at her uncharacteristic display of temper.

Mmmm. Meat. Potatoes. Carrots.

After his second tankard of wine, he started to relax. At some point during the meal, a minstrel had begun playing. The music was just background noise among the ruckus sounds at the table. Plate after plate of sweets were brought out and set before him. And each time, Zara brushed his hand away as he went to reach for them.

“I’ll get it,” she’d say, choosing a morsel and setting it on his plate.

Heads close together, Lord D'Angelus’s daughter and the serving girl seemed to be very interested in what Zara was doing. Without taking their eyes from her, they whispered and frowned.

Something was clearly going on, but before he could figure out what it was, his mother leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “It’s getting late, so I’m going to retire. I’ll put the little boys to bed. You stay up and have fun, son. I love you, and I’m so glad to have you back.”

“Love you too, Mom.” He watched as she ushered Darius and Petra’s young sons out of the room.

He now had a clear view of the couple seated next to his mom. The woman was rubbing the man’s crotch while he laughed at something someone was saying. Zara had been right that people were much more open with their sexuality and public displays of affection here.

There was a clatter of dishes behind him. He turned to see yet another young woman picking up a plate. She smiled sweetly at him from under her lashes.

“That is it,” Zara mumbled. “How could I have forgotten?” With a swipe of her hand, she cleared a space where his trencher had been and sat on the table in front of him. Grabbing a sweet cake from a nearby platter, she smeared the frosting on the swell of her breasts and gave him a pointed look.

Damn. Public displays weren’t his norm, but he was sorely tempted to push her back on the table in front of all these people and slide a hand under her skirts. He felt himself growing hard at the mere thought.

She lifted his chin with one finger. “Work with me.”

“You want me to…lick that off?” Movement just over Zara’s shoulder caught his eye. A man and woman were sitting in a chair along the back wall. Her skirts covered both of them, and based on how they were moving, they were having sex.

Okay then.

“Yes,” Zara said, her voice husky. “I’m sick of the women here thinking I don’t have a claim on you.”

“Why would they—?”

“It is customary that a man serves food to his woman and a woman serves food to her man. When we helped ourselves at the beginning of the meal, they just assumed we weren’t together.”

Thus all the female attention he’d been getting. Now it was his turn to grin at her. “And that made you jealous.”

“Yeah, you’re damn right I’m jealous.”

Snaking his arms around her waist, he buried his face in her breasts and licked the frosting from her creamy skin, his erection straining painfully behind the now-tight leather of his breeches. Strangely, the conversations around them carried on like normal. Call it weird, but he could seriously get into this.

Zara threaded her fingers through his hair. “I want to feel you inside me.”

He lifted his head. Right now?

“Yes,” she said, correctly reading his unspoken question.

Public sex. So fucking hot
.

He cupped her breast and stroked her peaked nipple through layers of fabric. She arched into him, urging him to continue. He glanced around, looking for a quiet corner to have his way with her when he saw Lord D'Angelus approaching.

Damn. They’d have to continue this later. Vince sat back in his seat, licking the frosting from his lips. Zara didn’t move, however, and stayed sitting on the edge of the table in front of him.

The older man seemed unfazed. “I hear you’re quite a marksman.”

Vince frowned. “Who told you that?”

Asher cleared his throat and scooted his chair closer. He had a stupid grin on his face. “I did.”

That made no sense. “You haven’t seen me shoot.”

“No, but Shane and Arlo have.”

Was nothing sacred at Reckless? Jeezus. They gossiped like a bunch of old women.

“And your mother said something about you winning a shooting competition,” D'Angelus said.

Vince ran a hand through his hair. “For one, mothers exaggerate. And two, I was a kid. In other words, it was a very long time ago.”

“She said you beat out fifty other competitors,” D'Angelus said, “mostly adults. I’d hardly call that exaggerating.”

As the man took a swig of his ale, Vince cast an exasperated look at Zara. She gave him a saccharine-sweet smile. Apparently, he wasn’t going to get any sympathy from her either.