by C. A. Storm
Many believed it was the Hippy and New Age movements of the Sixties that allowed the witches to re-emerge, but that was only for the white communities and the American perception of Wicca and the Occult. The African and Hispanic witches had kept their own practices within their own communities, and had never been shunned by the supernatural community as a whole.
“Anyways,” Ash interrupted Harper’s introspective thoughts. “Once my witch wakes her lazy ass up, I’ll send her your way and see about getting you under proper control. ‘Til then, I suggest you figure out just what triggered your dingo and get that sorted.”
Glaring up at the early morning sun, crowning over the mountains and emerging from the clouds, Ash squinted and grumbled, “I’m going to catch some more sleep.” She waved a dismissive hand, “Be gone, foul creatures of the light.”
And just like that, Ash disappeared back into her RV—although this time she quietly closed the door—and she left the two women standing there, looking at each other in bewilderment.
Harper felt like she had been run through a gauntlet. This was so not how she had hoped her day would go. Rubbing her face, squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to gather her thoughts.
Oddly, instantly, her mind turned back towards those incredible, glowing blue eyes that had been haunting her dreams, the ones she had seen in the face of the most intimidatingly handsome man she had ever seen.
“Um, excuse us…” a soft voice came from behind Harper, catching her attention.
Dropping her hands, she turned to face the two teenage girls she had seen earlier. The boys they had been hanging out with were hanging back a distance, but the two girls, before her, were obviously sisters, and almost definitely twins. Same height, same build, same beautiful faces, same white-blonde hair, and the same intense blue eyes that were oddly familiar. Yet, they were dressed diametrically different. One could have passed for a younger version of Harper, a young fashionista who wasn’t afraid of the color pink and all the power it held over the male mind, while the other dressed more like a tomboy, in scruffy blue jeans and a purple hoodie.
The young fashionista looked at Harper’s outfit in approval, giving a nod and a wide smile as she flashed her sister a quick thumb’s up. The hoodie-wearing sister rolled her eyes and sighed gustily, but gave Harper an oddly sweet, shy grin.
“Sorry if we’re interrupting, but that guy over there,” she pointed towards a blessedly average-heighted and slender blond guy, who gave a wide grin and a friendly wave as attention turned his way, “Said that you might just be the true mate of our brother…”
Blinking rapidly, feeling oddly lightheaded, Harper could only manage a startled, “Um, hunh?”
Fishing out her phone, the hoodied sister quickly flicked through it, bringing up a picture that she showed Harper. Indeed, it was the big, burly Viking she had seen earlier, grinning at the camera and flanked by two men who could have been his clones, even if they all wore their hair and beards in different styles.
“Oh my,” Drey said with a muffled, but delighted, giggle, “I didn’t realize it was one of the Ulvfang boys! Which one?”
Mechanically, Harper reached up and pointed unerringly at the one in the center. “Him. He’s been…in my dreams…”
Squealing in delight, the young fashionista threw herself at Harper in a surprisingly fierce hug. “Yes! Finally! Finally!”
Drawing back, grabbing Harper’s hands and bouncing like a kid in the proverbial candy shop, the young fashionista gushed, “I’m Tanja, this is Sanja. That’s Bard, one of our big brothers! We’re so happy to meet you! It’s about time one of them found his true mate and settled down, and you’re beautiful! And know how to dress! And are a girly-girl like me! O-M-Double Gee! You’re my new best friend forever! You’ll actually go shopping with me and know what you’re doing!”
“Tanja, breathe,” Sanja said laconically, giving another eye roll as she tried to pry her sister off of Harper. “Sorry about this. My guess is she’s just excited someone will actually speak Prada with her.”
“Wait…why aren’t you with Bard, if you found each other?” Tanja finally allowed Sanja to pull her away, looking up at Harper with confusion. “True mates are usually all over each other, and tend to disappear quite often. Why are you here?”
“Your father nearly went berserker on Harper when she met them this morning,” Drey interjected, her tone laced with considerable amusement. “Something to do with her being a witch.”
Tanja growled, a surprisingly deep, guttural, and fierce sound that shocked everyone. “Oh Hel no! He’s not going to ruin this for me!”
“Uh…don’t you mean for ruin this for Bard?” Sanja interjected, looking at her twin in amused disgust.
Stamping a foot, Tanja grabbed Harper’s hand and began to physically drag her away, back towards the Fairegrounds. “Whatever! Harper, come on. I’m going to fix this, you’re going to mate and marry my brother, and we’re going to be happy! Dammit!”
With a last, helpless glance at Drey, who shrugged and made a shooing gesture, Harper suddenly found herself surrounded by teenagers and hurried off, apparently to meet her mate properly.
The trip back to the Fairegrounds, and towards Harper’s shoppe and the smithy, went quicker when led by a teenage werewolf on a mission. During the jaunt, Tanja filled the air with chatter, describing her family, the Ulvfang Pack in excruciating if amusing detail, the Lodge, her favorite fashion designers and Houses, and whatever crossed her mind at the particular moment. She apparently had no filters, at all.
Her twin would interject or clarify occasionally, but seemed more content to just act as an escort, keeping a watchful eye out, while the teenaged boys seemed just as content to bring up the rear.
Soon enough, they were walking up the path towards the shoppes, and Harper could feel her heart start to race, her hands growing clammy as they approached. She was about to object, to try one last time for a graceful exit, when she saw him step out of the shadows of his smithy, tugging off his shirt as he spoke with someone still inside.
In that moment, Harper understood the meaning of the term enraptured. Enthralled. The interplay of muscles along his spine as he raised his huge arms over his head, that narrow waist that flared out to a pair of strong thighs, those impossibly broad and thickly muscled shoulders. But honestly? As beautiful as all that lightly tanned flesh and muscle looked, it was the sound of his laughter that made something inside of her melt.
When he turned towards them, his bearded face split in a wide grin, those blue eyes flashing brilliantly even in the light of day, her heart raced even faster. When her steps faltered, Tanja tugged on her hand once more while Sanja grabbed her other hand, completely preventing any hope for escape.
Granted, it might have also been the sight of that massive chest, pectoral muscles glistening with sweat that seemed to catch and reflect light like carefully positioned diamonds as they traced tantalizing trails down over his torso, that also kept Harper from running away. But whatever, she was going to cling to the excuse of the twins, even if she admitted the truth only to herself.
“Come on, Harper, you’ve got to actually meet our brother! Well, one of them at least. The other two are probably roaming around here somewhere, but you don’t want to meet them anyways,” Tanja said without missing a beat.
In a nonchalant voice, Sanja added, “And don’t worry about our dad. He’s just old and grumpy. Mom uses a spray bottle or a rolled-up newspaper when he gets too bad.”
What finally broke through Harper’s hesitation, however, was the look in Bard’s eyes. When he looked at her through the long, flaxen strands of his hair, she could see the raw emotions on his expressive face. She didn’t see the feral ferocity she had seen on his father’s face. Instead, she saw…hope, need, and a bone-deep fear of being rejected.
She had seen those expressions before. Never directed at her, but shared between her parents. Half-forgotten memories swam briefly through her mind, but she shook them off and f
ocused on the here and now.
Drawing herself up, Harper approached him. “Um, hello again. I’m afraid we may have gotten off on the wrong foot.” She held out her hand and met his gaze. “I’m Harper Llewellyn, and I think you might just be my annwyl…”
He glanced briefly down at her hand before he snapped his eyes back up to meet hers. Hesitantly, slowly, he reached up and took her hand in both of his. His huge hands were heavily calloused, but exquisitely gentle as he cradled her hand like the most delicate glass.
His voice was rough, raw, as he cleared his throat and spoke, his rich, husky voice sending a delightful shiver through her. “Hello, my Harper…I am Bårdr Roarson Ulvfang, and I have no doubt that you are my mate.”
Chapter 14
There are moments forever frozen in one’s mind. Some are terrifying, lurking and waiting for just the right moment to sink venomous fangs into your veins to once more seize you within their horrible grasp. If one was lucky, however, those were outnumbered by more glorious memories, ones that could illuminate the darkest of moments, burn away the venom of terror, and to warm even the coldest, most bitter instances.
The moment Bard first clasped his mate’s delicate hand within his own calloused paws was, without any shadow of a doubt, the single most glorious moment of his very long life thus far. Somehow, in that moment, he knew that at the very end of his life, he would be able to take out this memory, and it would be just as precious, just as irreplaceable then as it was now. Even Bard’s wolf was silent, glorying in the presence of their mate.
Bard, both man and wolf, would have been perfectly content to stand there, holding her hand and looking into her beautiful, clear eyes in silent appreciation. Sadly, as perfect as the moment was, it was all-too-brief and very rudely interrupted by reality.
“So, are you going to ask her out, or just stand there like a stump?”
Hank’s question drew a snarl from both Bard and his wolf. Bard felt his fangs descend, his eyes burn with a partial transformation so his wolf could add the weight of his displeasure to the glare they gave the smirking feline bastard. He was a little too much like his cousin at times. Damned cats.
Feeling Harper’s hand squeeze his, Bard’s eyes quickly darted back to her face. He released a breath he didn’t even know he had held when he didn’t see condemnation or fear on her lovely face, just a small grin and a delicately curved eyebrow arched upwards.
“Well?” She teased, her lips twitching with suppressed amusement, “Are you going to ask me? Or should I do the modern thing and ask you first? Would you like to go on a date with me?”
“Yes, yes, I most definitely would,” Bard said with unabashed eagerness. Granted, his wolf was still pushing the idea of sweeping her over his shoulder and hiding away from the world, but thankfully, Bard was a modern enough wolf to resist the urge to go full Viking Werewolf…yet.
“Good!” Harper exclaimed, glancing down to where he was still holding her hand clasped between both of his. Suddenly, she took his hands in hers and brought them up so she could examine them closer. “Oh, that’s a pretty color! What brand?”
Fuck. Bard squeezed his eyes closed. Fucking figures, I meet my mate after I’ve gotten a manicure and nails polished.
“OPI!” Tanja piped up, “It’s from their upcoming Winter Collection, the color is Less is Norse, and it’s Iceland themed!”
Oh yeah, the sisters are still here. Bard reluctantly opened his eyes, only to see his mate turn her gaze away from his hands back towards his sisters.
“Wait, they won’t release that collection for months yet! They haven’t even announced what it is!” Harper exclaimed, apparently totally shocked.
“The owner of our favorite spa has connections,” Tanja replied brightly, showing off her own nails, “I got Aurora Berry-alis!”
It was wrong to be upset that your mate’s attention was on your younger sisters, wasn’t it?
Glancing over at his sisters, prepared to give them a good, solid growling anyway, Bard caught sight of the small group of teenage boys watching the proceedings with avid curiosity. They ranged in age from at least twelve, barely starting to hit his first growth spurt, through the tallest and broadest, who looked to be at least eighteen or nineteen. Likewise, they ranged in appearance and ethnicity.
Most likely, they were the young pack of outcasts that had been adopted by the Travelers, boys who had been cast out of their respective packs or abandoned by their families, because they were gay. But they were still males. Still unmated wolves. And they were around his baby sisters.
“Something I can help you boys with?” Bard growled, low and deep, only to find himself under sudden intense scrutiny from all five of the pups.
The eldest, and apparent leader of the pups, met Bard’s eyes long enough for them to take a quick mental gauge of one another’s wolf. He was tall, an inch or so over six feet, and though he still had the leanness of all young wolves, his broad shoulders and large hands showed that he would be a massive man, once he came into his full strength. His spikey, reddish-gold hair and brilliant blue eyes, were common amongst the Northern European arctic wolves, and he already carried himself like a trueborn alpha. He would be a handsome pup, but ugly scars were dark and vivid against his fair skin, four ragged claw marks curved down over his left cheek, and there was a hardness, a bitterness in those sky-blue eyes that should never appear in the eyes of any child. And even if he was eighteen or nineteen, he was still a pup.
The scarred alpha-pup held Bard’s gaze unflinchingly, and the way he had instinctively angled his body, placing himself directly between Bard and the other young pups earned the respect of both Bard and his wolf. Finally, the pup titled his head and let his eyes flick downwards, ceding dominance although he still remained protectively positioned.
“No, sir,” the alpha-pup muttered sullenly, “We were just… um…” The boy’s words trailed off as his gaze focused on Bard’s bare chest.
It was then, Bard realized that he was the center of the puppy pack’s attention because he was the biggest, baddest wolf present. Nope, not at all. And that was driven home when one of the younger pups, a skinny kid with mocha-dark skin and bright amber eyes, leaned over to whisper something to another, just low enough that most people wouldn’t have been able to overhear, but wolf hearing being what it was?
“I want one of those when I grow up.”
“Me too,” the other responded in an awed whisper, his wolf-gold eyes fixated on Bard’s pectoral muscles as he nodded emphatically.
Okay, so both Bard and wolf may have preened a little bit, doing a bit more flexing but trying to make it look naturally—wolves could be just as vain as felines, after all—but it was the look in his mate’s eyes, the languid caress of her gaze as it followed a meandering path over his exposed flesh, and the sight of her tiny white teeth nibbling unconsciously on her lower lip, that had his growls turn more throaty than threatening.
“See?” Tanja said, clapping her hands, “This is why we’re doing the social media this year! Bard, go change into your kilt and stuff, and Hank, you’re not getting out of this one either. Go change while we get set up.”
“Okay boys,” Sanja said, herding the puppy pack away, forcing them to reluctantly tear their eyes from Bard’s bare chest, “You should go back to your camp and finish helping back there. We’ll hang out later, after we’re done here.”
Wait, what? Bard opened his mouth, but Harper’s voice instantly snagged his attention.
“So, a date then?”
It was the hesitancy in her voice that caught Bard’s full attention. Meeting her eyes, he could see a doubt there that had him titling his head in confusion. Doubt? How could she doubt his interest?
Instantly, he caught her hands in his and brought them up to his face. Rubbing his cheeks against her fingers, his eyes fully locked with hers, he murmured, “Most definitely. I don’t think the twin terrors are going to let me duck out of doing this photoshoot of theirs, but what are your plan
s for today? This evening?” The rest of our supernatural lives?
Looking into his eyes, Harper gave him a small smile. “Well, since things are pretty much closed down because of Easter, I’m going to finish unloading my glass, hit up a convenience store to grab some basics, then get ready for my hot date this evening…”
She trailed off, but burst into laughter at Bard’s eager nodding.
“Yes, this evening! Okay, great! I’ll be…” Bard shrugged and grinned, “Well, here, so if you need anything, just holler, okay?”
Realizing he was still rubbing his bearded cheek against her hands, Bard reluctantly pulled back and even more reluctantly released his grip. He was about to step back, when her hands were suddenly framing his face, holding him still.
Gods and goddesses, her touch. Bard’s eyes went heavy-lidded as he leaned into her touch, man and beast both instantly soothed, and more than a little aroused, at her touch. Fisting his hands at his sides, Bard waited and let his mate set the pace.
Eyes studying his face intently, Harper gently guided his head downwards, and brushed a hesitant, whisper-soft kiss over his lips.
The world ceased moving. Everything and everyone else simply faded away. Nothing else mattered, except the feel of her soft lips touching his.
Letting her pull back, allowing her to walk away with that sultry, purred, “See you later,” without reaching out and grabbing her was one of the most difficult things Bard had ever done. But being able to watch the sway of her hips, the curve of that perfect, firm, heart-shaped ass as she disappeared back into her cottage, was almost a fair reward for his self-control. Almost!
Ignoring the smirking feline bastard, and his sisters, Bard waited until she was out of sight before he strode purposefully across the street, towards her shoppe and cottage.
Drawing fully upon his wolf, Bard stalked around the periphery of her place, letting the essence of his shifter magic flow, allowing him to mark the territory without having to drop trou. Though, he silently acknowledged to himself that his wolf would come back as soon as night fell, and he could get away with it, to finish properly marking it.
