A Kingdom of Iron & Wine : New Adult Fantasy Romance (The Ironworld Series Book 1)

by Candace Osmond

  Even though I knew she was kidding, a shudder ran through me. I shook it off and stood from my chair. The only thing animating my legs was the sheer will to make it to my bed and the sudden promise that it would be soon. I smiled and said goodbye to Celadine as I made my way back through the gallery and out the front door.

  I barely remembered the winding drive home, but when I pulled up in the modest parking area across from The Chocolate Kettle, I thanked the heavens I made it in one piece. With my helmet tucked under my arm, I entered the café, intent on saying hi to Tomas before I made a beeline for my bed. But someone else had his attention. A swath of black leather and broad shoulders leaned over the counter–and my heart sprang to life as a pair of cerulean eyes sparkled at me.

  Cillian’s wide smile taunted me as I ignored him, and I looked at Tomas behind the counter they’d been chatting over.

  “Hey,” I greeted with a sleepy smile. “How was it tonight?”

  Tomas wiped at the butcher block. “Good. Had a couple of rushes, but it’s been quiet overall. Coffee?”

  “No, I’m good. I’m actually headed to–” I was hyper-aware of Cillian’s presence, how he casually leaned against the edge of the wooden top, watching, waiting for me to notice him like a sly cat. I wouldn’t dare give him the satisfaction. He’d ditched me during our… whatever it was. I felt like an idiot around him. “I’m calling it a night. Are we still on for the concert tomorrow?”

  Tomas brightened his already cheery expression. God, he was like a breath of fresh air. Always. There wasn’t a nasty bone in his body. “Definitely. I’m pumped. It’s the last outdoor concert of the year, and I heard Dallas Green’s in town and might make a surprise appearance between sets.” His big, brown almond-shaped eyes shifted to Cillian, who was still watching us with a smirk as he sipped a coffee. “I, uh, I hope you don’t mind, but I invited Cillian.”

  My stomach clenched, and I dared cast him a side glance. “Oh? You… know him?” I asked Tomas.

  Tomas and Cillian’s chuckles echoed between them. “Not really,” my friend admitted. “But Cillian’s become a regular. And we’ve been chatting for weeks. When I learned he’s a huge Sons of Galloway fan, I had to invite him.”

  I finally set my full attention on Cillian, and he straightened, his height towering over me like a looming shadow. “You’re a Sons of Galloway fan, are you?”

  Cheekily, he grinned down at me, flashing a perfect set of teeth, and I was grateful he couldn’t hear my heart thrumming nervously in my chest. “Yes, massive fan, actually.”

  “What’s your favorite song?” I tested.

  He hesitated, igniting a smirk from me, but he replied, “Well, I loved Ether until their 2018 album came out, and now, I think my favorite song might be Crescent Sun.”

  His deep blue eyes locked on mine, almost daring me to keep challenging him. But I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of biting. I oafishly clapped his arm, knocking that stupid smirk off his face for a split second. “Great! I hope you enjoy the concert, then.”

  I gripped the leather strap of my shoulder bag and nodded goodbye to Tomas as I turned and headed for the winding metal staircase that led to my apartment.

  “Oh, I’m sure I will,” Cillian called after me.

  I stopped on the first stair and gripped the railing; Tomas’s innocent expression was wrought with confusion as I fixed my gaze on Cillian’s dark stare from across the cafe. “Let’s see if you can stick around to see the end.”

  Perhaps it was the exhaustion brimming around my mind, or maybe I was just fed up with being the meek and shy Avery Quinn I’d always been, but I didn’t give him the chance to retort. But as I scaled the stairs, his answering chuckle tickled my spine, and I hastily closed the door behind me.

  ***

  The sun was a stain of deep orange beneath the blanket of twilight that fell on us as we made our way toward the harbor front the following evening, lured by the lights and sounds of the outdoor concert. Scents of steaming hotdogs, spilled beer, and crispy beaver tails–deep-fried dough covered in copious amounts of sugared toppings–filled the air, and my stomach danced with glee. I loved this city. It had so much to offer. Good food, music, theater, art. A culture I belonged to.

  Not to mention the secret mythical world hidden behind a veil of magical glamor.

  They blocked off the vast parking lot between a brewery and a row of restaurants, and they set a large stage on one end. The place was already filled with people, jiving to the pre-show of budding local musicians. Some kind of all-girl rock group that played catchy melodies mixed with heavy metal. There was no shortage of talent in this city.

  Julie and Tomas walked beside me, cautiously flirting, and I immediately went for the refreshment truck that sat parked near the edge of the concert, next to a few food trucks that billowed steam and sounds of fat spackling in deep fryer vats.

  The early autumn air was already chilling with the lowering of the sun, and I was grateful I’d worn a thick, red plaid button-up over my torn jeans. My long red hair cascaded over my shoulders, draping down across my back and hugging the chilled skin of my cheeks.

  Julie appeared at the edge of the lineup and handed me a ten. “Grab me two beers?”

  When I’d finally made my way up the line, the next opening band began to play as I made my order at the counter. I balanced two large plastic cups of beer, and I cradled them to my chest with one arm as I drank from a third with the other. Julie relieved me of the two she bought and handed one to Tomas, who was peering around at the faces in the crowd.

  “Looking for someone?” I asked while I happily swayed to the gentle tune of some Irish shanty.

  “Yeah, Cillian said he’d meet us here,” he replied and sipped from his beer.

  The orange smudge on the horizon at the end of the harbor was nearly gone, and early evening was entirely upon us. The loose strings of patio lanterns cast an umbrella made of golden balls of light, reflecting on the faces of the concert-goers, glistening in the tiny wet spots on the pavement beneath my red Doc Martens–leftover from the day’s sprinkle of rain.

  I ignored Julie’s questioning look as I let out a guffaw and spoke over the rim of my plastic cup. “I wouldn’t get your hopes up. The guy’s about as reliable as a wet paper bag. He probably ditched you. He has a tendency to do that.”

  “Do I, now?” a deep, raspy voice spoke up from behind me. Its sound tickled all the way down my spine, and a slight yelp escaped my lips as I spun around. Cillian’s coy smile gleamed in the lantern light.

  I tried to hide the way my throat bobbed with a nervous swallow and tipped my chin upward. “Well, you don’t have the best track record.”

  “How long am I going to be paying for that one incident?” he said teasingly. A swath of silky black hair fell across his forehead, and I had to crush my hand into a fist to stop myself from reaching out to move it aside.

  “One incident?” I balked with exaggeration as I comfortably slipped into the witty banter we always seemed to fall into. “The frat party, the pub, the bus–”

  “The frat party I’ll give you,” he cut in, his thick dark brows raised. Julie and Tomas had conveniently moved closer to the stage. “But the bus was all you and the pub… I’d said goodbye, didn’t I?”

  My reply was a grumble and a shrug as I sipped my beer. Over Cillian’s shoulder, I could see Julie stealing a glance back toward us, and I rolled my eyes as I failed to hide the grin that tugged at my mouth.

  “Regardless,” he continued and leaned closer. The scent of leather and crisp night air nearly took my breath away, and I closed the bit of distance left between us. His cool breath tickled my suddenly warm cheeks. “I apologize for leaving at the restaurant. I got an urgent call from work.”

  It pained me not to watch the way his mouth moved with every word, and his knowing grin told me he knew it. He knew the effect he had on me, on probably every woman he crossed paths with.

  “Yeah, I saw the bills you left,” I re
plied.

  Cillian held both arms out. “Then I fail to see the issue.”

  It was utterly impossible to be mad at him in person.

  I just laughed and shoved at his chest as I slipped by him. “Come on, let’s get a good spot before the show starts.”

  Cillian followed close behind me as I wove through the growing crowd and sidled up to Tomas and Julie. She gave me a quick look that asked, everything cool? And I nodded happily. The four of us quickly melded into a never-ending circle of conversation. Turns out we all had a lot in common. Especially Tomas and Cillian as they dove into a deep discussion about some tabletop game Tomas loved. Apparently, Cillian had always wanted to try it, and Tomas wasted no time inviting him to the next game night he held with his buddies.

  We danced and jumped around to each song as we filled our bellies with tap beer and street food. I tried not to stare, tried not to look at Cillian every other second… but I was weak. Everything about him lured me in, called to me like a dark melody only I could hear. But I didn’t dare let myself feel embarrassed with each flitting look because, every time, every glance… his eyes were already on me.

  As if they never left.

  Julie and I had wandered away at some point, between bathroom breaks and drink refills. Sons of Galloway filled the stage after the opening acts, and we danced around to the tunes we loved so much. In the breath of silence that cut the air between songs, Julie put her mouth to my ear.

  “I think that Cillian guy likes you,” she said.

  My stomach twirled with butterflies. “Isn’t he too old for me?”

  Julie shrugged out of her white knitted sweater and tied it around her waist, revealing flawless bare arms beneath a white tank top. I wondered then how much of it was glamor. I strained my eyes, but I couldn’t see through it. “He’s not that much older, Av’. Besides, we’re not children. You can date older guys if you want to.” Her nose scrunched up teasingly. “Unless you’re just looking for excuses.”

  I gave her a look that said, shut up, and I turned to face the stage with the rest of the crowd. But something heavy sank to the bottom of my stomach. Was I making an excuse to keep Cillian at bay?

  I considered it as I mulled my lips together and searched the crowd for our male companions. They stood a few feet away, conversing with another group of concert-goers. Even though he was only a few years older than us, he made sweet Tomas look like a child as they stood together. The way he towered inches over everyone, the way he carried his strong, broad shoulders on top of a lean, muscled frame, and the usual black attire he wore so perfectly fitted to that body.

  As if he sensed me staring, Cillian’s deep blue gaze found mine through the moving crowd and flashed with something that tickled the pits of my stomach. A look of hope, of… desire. Laced with hesitancy. Something warmed under my skin, and I shuddered. Maybe I was making an excuse not to let him too close, simply for fear of how hard I knew I’d fall.

  I turned and faced the stage with Julie as a new song struck up, one of my favorites, and we both danced despite the way my tired legs protested. I lifted my arms above my head, my eyes closed as I let every note fall on me.

  Tap beer filled my veins, and I suddenly felt light on my feet as I danced. I needed this. The normalcy of it all. I could almost forget that the city was hardly more than a mask for the dark, mythical world hidden beneath. Almost.

  “You look beautiful when surrounded by things you love,” Cillian’s bottomless voice rang in my ear as his lips brushed the skin of it.

  I spun around to face him, careless and taken by the music. I gave him a smile, one that invited him to come closer. And he did. His wide hands carefully took me by the waist as we danced together. When the song slowed during a bridge, I slung my arms around his neck, surprised by my sudden boldness. But, if being in his presence sent my heart fluttering wildly, touching him ignited something beneath my skin. A thirst for… more. To be closer. To feel every part of his tall, sturdy body. Like an iron statue in my hands.

  I tipped my head back, revealing the length of my neck, and my mess of crimson waves hung behind me. I felt his arms tense at my curved back, and he pulled me close, swinging me upward to meet his chest. My head swarmed lazily with beer, and I smiled stupidity up at his dark, curious expression.

  “How did you know this was my favorite song?” I spoke above the music, careful to not touch my lips to his ear for fear I might not have the strength to hold myself back from taking the perfect lobe in my mouth.

  Cillian’s whole body shivered with a chuckle. “I didn’t,” he said. “It’s actually mine.”

  I swayed back and forth in his arms. “See, why don’t I believe you?”

  “You don’t have to.” The words carried a challenge of some kind. To pry further. He wanted me to get closer.

  I searched his eyes for any sign of deceit, for a hint that he was playing me. “Are you making friends with Tomas to get closer to me? Because he’s my actual friend, and if you hurt him–”

  Cillian’s hand gripped my waist tightly, and I stifled a pleasant yelp as he grinned and tucked his face to my ear. “Would it be so terrible if I were?”

  God, he could say anything, anything, and that voice would undo me. But I stilled, cutting through all our lighthearted repartee. “Yes. Yes, it would.”

  But Cillian continued to converse with that carefree demeanor he so loved. “And what do you mean, actual friend?” He put a hand to his chest and leaned back with a feigned offense. “Am I not your friend?”

  I stepped back and took a deep breath as I batted my lashes. “That remains to be determined.”

  Cillian’s laugh was loud and infectious as it carried past the song’s end and filled the air around me. I nodded my head toward the edge of the concert where the refreshment trucks were.

  “I need some water,” I told him and raised my brows in a silent invitation.

  He offered his elbow, and I slipped my arm around it as we wove our way through the crowd. When we merged at the edge of it all and stepped into the spacious area beyond the concert-goers, Cillian tightened his arm, holding my hand closer to him.

  “I’ve loved Sons of Galloway since they were playing on street corners,” he said. “My job keeps me… very busy and away from the city,” he continued, and I listened intently, eager to gobble up any minor detail he was willing to offer. Cillian let loose a sigh. “It’s hard to find time to make friends. Tomas is someone I see almost every day, and we just got to talking. We have a lot in common.”

  I looked up at him through my lashes. Comparing Cillian and Tomas was like setting night and day side by side. I couldn’t imagine what they truly had in common. But who was I to judge?

  “So, what do you do for work?” I asked. “We never got around to that part of our… ” I didn’t want to imply the word date again. “Uh, at the restaurant.”

  Cillian’s body vibrated with the chuckle he stifled as we stood in line for drinks. “I work in sales.”

  “Figures,” I chortled.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You’ve got all the charm of a salesman,” I replied.

  He grinned and arched a perfect eyebrow. “You think I’m charming?”

  “That’s not what I meant–” Julie appeared and tugged at my free arm. I turned to find her and Tomas covered in neon paint splatters, heaving for breath as she handed me a bottle of water. “Bless you!” I said and put the bottle to my parched lips. But I choked down a burning cough. “This is vodka!”

  “I come prepared!” Julie laughed and pranced in circles around a lovestruck Tomas. Her long platinum hair danced behind her, catching his face and spinning him in awe.

  My best friend was enigmatic and bursting with carefree joy. She always made the most of everything, always found a way to squeeze the most fun out of something. It was that childlike wonder that she always seemed to behold the world with that captivated me so many years ago. Being around Julie was… addicting. But
part of me wondered how much of that influence she was aware of. If any of it stemmed from her Fae existence.

  “Actually, I think I’ve had enough for tonight,” I said and handed the bottle back to her, but she was barely aware I was even there. Tomas gave me an apologetic look and took the bottle from me. Cillian’s hand gripped my waist, hugging my side closer to him. My breath hitched, but I caught Julie’s eye and said, “I, uh, I think I’m going to head home.”

  She came to a halt and gave me a frown. “Aw, really? But the night’s still young!”

  Every fiber of my being wanted to stay, dance, and revel in the music. But I was getting closer to Cillian…. and he wasn’t running. “I have class tomorrow,” I told her, raising my voice as the next song struck up. “And so do you!” I reminded her with a laugh.

  Tomas leaned in and spoke to the side of my face so I could hear. “You guys head back. I’ll make sure she gets home after a few more songs.” Julie flung her arms around his neck and draped off of him as she danced.

  I smiled in thanks and waved them off as I turned to leave, Cillian close to my side. I hadn’t invited him, but I wanted to. I wanted to bring him back to my apartment, to be alone with him. I wanted to get closer, to have his arms around me, his hands on my skin. His lips on mine. But how did I tell him that? Was it implied? Did he want me to invite him to my home?

  By the time we walked up the few streets and reached the apartment, I still hadn’t figured it out. But he was still there, walking with me. He stopped at the base of the steps in the back alley, and I turned and looked down on him from halfway up.

  “Did… did you want to come in?” I asked, cursing my warming cheeks.

  In the darkness of the alley, he nearly disappeared, save for his pale face that caught the moonlight. He flashed a smile and gripped the railing. “I’d love that, very much.”

  Cillian waited patiently as I drunkenly fumbled with my keys and let us into the quiet apartment. I prayed Lattie wasn’t there but kept a distance from my bedroom door just in case. Or perhaps part of me was too nervous of what might happen if I led this man–this perfect, gorgeous, beautiful man–into my bedroom.