Dreams of a Wild Heart

by Danube Adele

  “It smells delicious.” I kept my voice low as Tayla came around. She didn’t say anything, but I felt a gentle touch on my shoulder as she walked past, pouring drink into the cups.

  What got my attention was the younger one, the one with long blond hair, a low-cut blouse and boobs that were willing to pop out if she bent over that much farther. She was setting her platter down near Tabron, and from the way her eyes lingered on him, I suddenly just knew. They’d been, or currently were, lovers. The burn of sudden anger that singed my veins was fierce and unexpected. How embarrassing. No wonder he hadn’t wanted to come home with me and was now frustrated to have to take care of me.

  The girl brushed against him, and he chuckled, trying to help her get the heavy platter on the table. Then he looked up at me, likely saw my glare, and flushed. I tried to control the ugly feelings, surprised to feel them at all, and looked to the food on the table for distraction. Why did I care? I shouldn’t. I didn’t. This was me being a stupid girl. But none of these assertions helped to ease the burn, especially when she found my gaze across the table and singed me with a look.

  Jealous a bit?

  The men began eating, helping themselves to the food and talking, and I would have thought I was forgotten except that their eyes kept finding me. I tried to keep a low profile and strictly avoided looking at Tabron as plates were taken and the men helped themselves to the savory-smelling dishes. Being new to the scene, I wasn’t sure what to do, what the expectation was, and just waited in a swirl of emotions.

  This was crazy. To eat or not to eat. To be angry with him or realize I was not part of his life here and make the choice not to care. I was so used to being in strict control of myself, who I was around and my emotional state, but here I was circling round and round the damn map of emotions that I was in danger of spiraling off it completely. And how was I supposed to get food?

  “Tell us about yourself,” encouraged Lanir. He’d taken a seat on the opposite side of the table a few chairs down from Tabron.

  “Well, I’m a general surgeon at Pomona Valley Hospital in the trauma ward. I think you all probably know that already.”

  “How long did it take you to reach your level of mastery?” He was filling a plate for himself as he listened. In my family, a meal was a place of reinforcing bonds of love and care and belonging. Mealtimes were warmth and comfort. This was far from that. I didn’t feel comfortable joining in freely. I didn’t belong. I wasn’t part of this “family.”

  I tried my best to play nice. “I went to school for many years. Several years at the university for my Bachelor’s in Science degree, and then medical school and residency.”

  “It sounds as though you had to work hard.”

  “I did.”

  A plate appeared in front of me. The smells wafting up had me sniffing with appreciation, and I looked to see who had been so kind. It was Tabron. He didn’t wait to acknowledge my thanks and went about getting his own food. I consciously tried to let go of my feelings and appreciate that he was being somewhat decent to me, at least looking out for my welfare.

  The food on my plate was definitely palatable. Some kind of meat was dripping with gravy, there were potatoes saturated with rich, creamy sauce, some carrots that were swimming in butter, and flaky bread. It looked like a big heart attack waiting to happen. Did they eat every meal like this?

  A quick look around showed me that no one was surprised by the food. They were eating matter-of-factly. There was so much food. Not just a little bit. Not just enough for the group, but enough for several meals. What did they do with the leftovers? An image of Raseen came to mind. Let them eat cake?

  The king picked up his napkin and blotted the moisture from his forehead. He was beginning to perspire, his eyes looking a little glazed. He saw my look of concern and smiled broadly, waving me away with a cheerful movement of his hand, then picked up his cup and drank deeply. Drunk or drugged? Had I seen correctly? Had Morten given some kind of pill to his father?

  “Is the food all right, love?” Morten asked beside me, putting his hand on my leg under the table. “Would you like some of mine?”

  “I’m fine, thank you.” My voice was cold enough to freeze fire, and I pushed his hand off my leg abruptly. Pretending not to see the dark look he sent me, I picked up my fork and took some of the meat. It tasted like a nice pot roast with gravy.

  “I have my own wing on the west side of the palace. There’s a lovely view of the mountains off in the distance, and the smells of the garden float in through the window at night.”

  “You paint a pretty picture, Morten. Maybe I could join with you,” Draxton taunted. A ripple of laughter erupted, causing Morten to glare at them all. Draxton gave me a more meaningful look, his eyes obviously imparting a sexual message. “Besides, women don’t want pretty words, do they? They want a man to take action. Isn’t that right, woman?”

  “Woman? You don’t even remember her name?” Tarra appeared in the doorway of the dining room, just managing to overhear the remark. Her brows were drawn with irritation as she looked around the table. “I doubt you know anything about what a woman wants. You’ve never had one who wanted you.”

  “And what does a woman want, Tarra?” Morten asked. She paused, giving him a cool look.

  “For gentlemen to wait until I could arrive before starting, for one.” She took a seat at the far end of the table. “Other than that, beautiful dresses, sparkling jewels and travel to interesting places. Frank has helped provide the first two...”

  “No,” the king shook his head before the last word left her lips. He sopped his gravy with his bread saying, “You have to stay here. I have no one to play nursemaid to you.”

  “The princess making demands yet again. It seems we hear this regularly, Tarra. Why can’t you just be content with what you have here?” The dark-haired soldier beside Tabron had a disapproving tone. “Everyone is just supposed to give to you. You have much but it’s never enough.”

  She flushed with the reprimand. “You aren’t the one stuck here, Bruner, with nothing to do. At least when I was at Kraggon’s camp, I had something to do.”

  “Unfortunately, you got yourself kicked out of Kraggon’s camp. You have yourself to blame.” Bruner looked at her with contempt.

  “Morten got us kicked out!”

  “Who is Kraggon?” I asked.

  “A traitor,” Morten interjected angrily.

  “The son of our last king. He went looking for revenge against the Sunan after the bomb attack. It killed his mate and child.” Tarra said this to me before scowling at Bruner once again. “It was Morten who got us forcibly removed. He was up to his usual manipulations and Kraggon had had enough.” Her eyes weren’t just angry, they were hurt. It was genuine. Her chin trembled. “Morten killed my horse.”

  “The predator killed your horse.” As though he’d said this over and over and was bored with it, Morten uttered the words with derision.

  Tarra’s expression turned sharp. “Shandria read your mind, Morten, or have you forgotten? She saw that you were there to do harm and warned the others before you could complete your mischief. You wanted to best Kraggon? Remember?”

  Blotting his damp forehead and neck once again, the king narrowed his eyes on Morten, his words snapping with irritability. “When aren’t you engaged in mischief?”

  “Father, she’s talking about Shandria, the daughter of the Sunan leader. Of course she would work to create strife within our ranks.” He turned back to Tarra, but was clearly playing to the table. “What’s most interesting to me is that you became such good friends with her before returning.”

  “And what do you wonder about? How to make friends instead of enemies?” She sat back and laughed. “That would take a lifetime to teach you, and you would still be the pathetic worm that you are.”

  “What is it you’re s
upposed to do for her? Our enemy?”

  “Are you calling me a traitor? You truly will do anything. You aren’t too high and mighty. You even brought the predator to us, not caring that you put all of the women and children in danger.”

  “Kraggon has gone rogue,” Morten snapped. “He’s turning to the Sunan. He joined with the daughter of the Sunan leader.”

  Tarra rolled her eyes. “After she rescued him from execution and after her own people put a bounty on her head. You were jealous, Morten, because you wanted her for yourself, and she thought you were worthless, just like everyone else sitting here. But you couldn’t leave things alone, so you had to rouse everyone in the nation for your petty fights that you pick against warriors you will never have a chance at besting.”

  “She was playing games. And hear me now. It’s only a matter of time before he gathers forces and attacks the city of Dragmor.”

  “So you say.” Tabron’s contempt for Morten was clear as it dripped from his words. “You aren’t known for your military intelligence. What evidence do you have that Kraggon has done anything against our people? You have none. As always. Yet you waste our time with nonsense. Go play with your weapons and let the warriors do the work here.”

  Bruner looked down at his plate and shook his head. “Ral’e, Morten plays at being a warrior when it suits him, and engages in just enough mischief to bring trouble.”

  “Wellan, one of our own, has switched allegiances. I need to question his family about his whereabouts. He will not go unpunished for his betrayal.” Morten’s flush of anger and humiliation was deep, and I couldn’t help the small smile that curved my lips. It sucked to be him. Everyone was dissing him including his father.

  “You’re a fool, Morten,” Bruner scoffed.

  “Besides, you told Wellan you weren’t going to pay him.” Tarra took her plate and began filling it.

  “How would you know this?” Morten asked.

  Tarra was stuck for an answer briefly, and I could see the brief flicker of panic in her eyes. There was definitely more going on with her than she was letting on. Was she doing something that could get her in trouble? Then she shrugged in her nonchalant way, put on her “carefree face” and said, “He told everyone in the camp. Kraggon allowed him to rest in camp before returning home, and he was sharing that Morten was making all kinds of promises in the name of the king and not following through.”

  “That’s a lie,” Morten snarled.

  “Enough talk of this. We have a guest who is being left out of the conversation,” Ral’e stated firmly, though I could see that his eyes were angry with all of the information he was hearing. “We can talk after the meal of these matters. There are other things to discuss now.”

  “Like who Dr. Cecilia is going to choose for her mate.” Draxton sat back in his chair with a satisfied smile.

  “Why are you forcing her to choose now? Why not allow her time to get to know the men?” Tarra interjected. “How cruel it seems to force a strange man on her so immediately.”

  My heart pumped with sudden hope, only to have that hope crushed.

  “I want this settled.” Ral’e’s tone left no room for argument. “She will choose today, and it will be done.”

  “Can I have time before the ceremony?” I asked. “I understand wanting to have the choice made, but to have a month to get to know my partner doesn’t seem unreasonable.”

  The king eyed my face, as though looking for some telltale sign that I was planning some kind of deceit. “I’ll give you two weeks. At the end of the two weeks, we will have the ceremony.”

  “Perfect,” Tarra exclaimed. “That can also give us time to plan some clothing and food.”

  It wasn’t perfect, but it gave me at least some breathing room.

  “Whoever you choose will be sharing your rooms,” the king quickly tacked on.

  “But...” I shook my head in protest.

  “How else will you begin to learn of each other? Whoever you choose will move into your rooms this evening.”

  I shut my mouth and stared down at the plate of food in front of me. It was less appealing at this point. My stomach was twisting into knots. I would still have someone who might want to fuck me tonight.

  Tarra was not the least bit aware of my feelings. With a wide grin, she was saying, “Finally I’ll have another woman to talk to. Maybe I could show you around the village, give you a chance to get to know some of the villagers.”

  “She’s here to be my personal physician.” Ral’e gave Tarra a baleful look. “She’s not here to be your personal companion. Tomorrow after breakfast, Dr. Cecilia, I would like for you to see to me.”

  I gave him a short nod of acquiescence, still processing that I was going to have to pick someone from this group.

  “And now for your choice. Who will you choose as your mate?”

  The table became silent, and I looked around to find everyone’s eyes were on me. This was it. Someone at this table was going home with me tonight. How to choose?

  There was no way I was going to pick Morten, who was looking at me with a sickening smile. He was a real-life zombie if ever I saw one. Caern and Jenys were like sweet puppies, more like boys than men.

  They’re too young for joining. They’ve barely had seventeen summers. Tabron’s words came to me purposefully.

  I have to pick somebody! I shoved the thought back at him and looked at the man he was sitting next to.

  Bruner was keeping himself distanced, letting me know he didn’t want to be picked, though he continued to give Tarra the stink eye. What could that mean? Some chemistry, perhaps?

  Bruner has told me that there isn’t another woman who can take the place of his mate. She died in the bombing, and he blames himself.

  I wasn’t going to pick him, I snapped mentally, but it posed a problem. I was running out of men.

  There was no way in hell I would pick Draxton. He was cruel. An abuser. There wasn’t a smidgeon of honor in his entire body. That left Tabron and Lanir.

  Lanir could be a good match for me. I hit a mental send on that message.

  A cranky reply came instantly. He’s got five children and a perpetually filthy house that he would expect you to keep clean. He was also partnered for a number of years before she died in the attack. You’ll be fighting a ghost.

  What am I supposed to do, then?

  After scanning the faces once again, I came to rest on Tabron. His eyes burned intently into mine.

  Maybe he’d leave me alone. His disdain for women and connections of the heart in general could make him want to punt me back to Earth. We were about to find out.

  “I choose Tabron.”

  Chapter Seven

  The look on his face had been priceless. A sudden flush to his cheeks. His jaw tightening. But his thoughts were even more confusing, both relieved and angry.

  What the fuck? There’s no way this is going to happen. She thinks she’s going to have control over this situation, control over me, but she’ll be in for a surprise. There was even a twinge of panic to his inner monologue. He wanted to argue, and was on the verge of, when he stopped himself. For now. For now, I’ll protect her, but in time, she’ll want to choose someone else.

  I would have laughed if it hadn’t been so very not funny. Morten’s glare was practically burning a hole into the side of my head and Draxton was giving me a mocking look from across the table. Everyone else seemed to genuinely wish us well. The king gave a toast, and I saw that Tabron barely lifted his glass. Punkass. He’d brought this on himself.

  He could always keep going to his little servant girl for sex. Accompanying that thought was a mental lip curl. For whatever reason, it bothered me to think of him with her. Life didn’t make sense. And as though the thought solidified before me, I saw the girl standing in the archway,
a stricken look on her face. Then she turned to me with hatred in her eyes.

  Tough shit, girlfriend, was my attitude. Not my fault. Take it up with management.

  He grabbed my arm in that lovely man manacle of his. I recognized it the instant it clamped on to my upper arm. When I looked up into his face, I saw Tabron was furious.

  “I need to speak with you.”

  He wasn’t going to be shaken off. With as much dignity as I could muster, and with a final glance at the angry, young servant, I followed Tabron to the far corner of the room.

  “You will get nothing from me.” His words, rapid-fire, were low and rough with the anger that burned in his eyes. “I may be tied to you, but we will have nothing together.”

  “Then you’ll be giving me exactly what I want from you. Nothing.”

  “I told you I wanted no mate, but you had to force yourself on me.”

  My face burned with a combination of anger and embarrassment that he was rejecting me so soundly. “Here’s the deal, pal. You didn’t want to be joined, and I didn’t want to be kidnapped. Get me home before the two weeks is up.”

  “Impossible.”

  “Then deal with it. Here’s another one of your opportunities to feel disappointed with the world because poor you, your nefarious plans had a great big hiccup. Man up, Viking. Grow a pair.”

  If looks could kill, I’d have been toast, but the king unwittingly saved me.

  “We need a meeting, Tabron. Much to discuss.”

  Tabron glared at me a few quiet moments longer before turning on his heel and stalking back to the table.

  Tarra stood. “C’mon, Cecilia! Let’s take a walk.”

  I wondered if anyone was going to protest giving me free rein of the village, and gave a quick look to Tabron and the king, but no one raised even an eyebrow. They must have all realized that there was nowhere I could go. Likely, the villagers didn’t know how to get to Earth or they would have abandoned this place a long time ago, which made me wonder why Tabron had come back. Why would he want to live permanently in medieval times?