Thankfully, the whole “photo shoot” the girls had wanted hadn’t taken all that long. Hell, it had taken longer to get the forge properly fired up so the twins could get some pictures of Bard and Hank actually working. Glad to leave all the rest to his sisters, who would update the website, Facebook and social media accounts, and design new flyers, business cards, and all that, Bard had been able to finally escape their clutches, so he could rush home and freak out over getting ready to woo his mate.
Getting back to his warehouse, Bard had taken a quick shower to wash the sweat, soot, and grime away, then just to be on the safe side, he did a mad dash to clean up his loft. He didn’t want to jinx himself by counting chickens before they hatched, but better that than risking his mate discovering his bad habit of leaving clothes lying around willy-nilly.
Not that his place was filthy, his mother would have his hide for that, but living on his own for the last decade or so had definitely contributed to a few bad habits his mate didn’t need to find out about this early in their relationship! Besides, he could change! He would change! Starting now!
First things first? Making sure his boxers, socks, and other dirty clothes weren’t haphazardly strewn about his private den.
Getting a load of laundry going, he made a quick buzz-through of the lower part of the warehouse, making sure the front shop was straightened up while his workshop—well, that was a hopeless cause. Granted, he was meticulous about safety and making sure his tools were always put away, but metalworking and tinkering with motorcycles left evidence. Thankfully, the garage was a separate building, where the majority of the actual work on the motorcycles was done, so at least he didn’t have to worry about any stray parts.
After grabbing a quick bite for lunch, Bard spent the rest of the afternoon finishing up straightening his loft and dodging phone calls from his father, his mother, both his older brothers, the twins, and even distant cousins he hadn’t heard from in decades. He ignored not only the calls, but the voicemails and texts as well. He would have just turned the damned thing off, but he kept hoping to get a call, a text, or something from his mate.
It didn’t help matters much that his wolf was impatiently stalking like a feral, caged beast within him. It refused to listen to Bard’s logical arguments that patience was the way to go. Instead, at odds with its normally calm, placid attitude, it was howling to go full on Viking Wolf.
Just as Bard began to seriously consider taking his wolf’s advice, despite the fact he would be seeing his mate in just a few hours, he heard his phone go off again.
With a growl, he tore it out of his jeans, but his glare melted away when he saw Harper’s face on the screen. Trying to calm his racing heart, and to not sound like an overly eager schoolboy, Bard took a slow, deep breath before answering.
“Heya, darling. What’s up?”
Okay, so he probably looked like an idiot, standing there in just a pair of worn, holey jeans, clutching his phone while he turned around in circles, trying to find his mirror so he could check his appearance—despite the fact he knew she couldn’t see him.
“Bard,” the sound of his name on her lips purred through him, the sound alone enough to make his cock swell against the rough denim of his jeans, drawing a wince as he had to rearrange himself. “I was just calling to…” She paused, then laughed, “Right, I actually just wanted to hear your voice, but figured I’d check and make sure that we were still on tonight?”
Yep, he looked like an idiot, particularly with that damned, goofy grin on his face, but Bard couldn’t have cared less.
Flopping down in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, Bard chuckled, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, darling. That pack of wild wolves I reluctantly call my family couldn’t keep me away.”
The girlish giggle, one quickly muffled, that came from the other end of the phone had Bard’s already big grin grow even wider. He could just see his mate, her polished veneer of Southern gentility cracking, revealing the soft, gooey center he looked forward to savoring. Often. Hell, the sound even had his wolf tongue-lolling like a loon, tail wagging like a tornado-tossed pennant.
“Yeah, well, you keep the big, bad wolves away and I’ll try and keep the wicked witches away,” Harper said, laughter still making her voice bright and glittery. “Deal?”
“Ah, darling, that sounds like a deal then. My oath on it!” Bard promised, his voice a low, husky growl that had Harper inhaling a sharp gasp. Oh, she likes it when we growl, Bard’s wolf smugly sent. We must growl for her a lot then!
“Right, in that case, I have a pack of hungry pups I’m going to load up with cookies and cake before I start getting ready,” she said, her own voice gone low and husky. “I’ll see you at six?”
“I’ll be there,” Bard quickly promised, his grin threatening to overwhelm his face. Hell, he doubted even his fully wolfen muzzle would have been big enough for the smile he wanted to give right then.
“See you then, Bard,” she paused, then laughed, “Okay, it shouldn’t be this difficult to disconnect the phone. I’ll see you tonight, sweetie. Bye!”
Letting the phone fall from his hand, Bard covered his eyes with the crook of his arm as he gave a groaning chuckle. He was well over a century old, closer to his second than his first, but now he could understand the giddiness Tanja would sometimes display when she got a text or message from some boy she was crushing on.
Sliding his free hand down over his flat stomach, over flesh smooth for the first time since before he had hit puberty, he gripped his thick erection through his jeans. Ever since he had seen the picture of his mate’s face on his phone, he had gone hard. Hearing her voice had only caused it to throb. Somehow, he wasn’t surprised to find that he had leaked through the denim.
Fuck, it had been years since he had to worry about his arousal being so readily apparent. He had gone through the typical randy youth that all male shifters seemed to hit upon puberty, lasting well into their twenties. Female shifters tended to have certain times of year where they were hit hardest, but for the males, it was a damn near constant ache.
Bard had more than his share of lovers throughout his life, but the last few decades, it just hadn’t seemed that urgent. He wasn’t in any rush to have kids, and he didn’t have to mate to solidify his pack like Aksel’s disastrous union. Quickly, he stopped thinking about his brother’s fucked-up mating and instead focused on thoughts of his mate. Which, wasn’t difficult at all, now with his dick aching in desperation.
Giving his button-fliy a tug, he released his full, thick cock and wrapped his calloused hand around the base, giving it a firm, hard squeeze. He could feel the cool, sticky precum oozing down the length, dripping onto his abdomen. And his balls were heavy, throbbing with urgent demand.
Slowly, he began to rock his hips, using only his lower body to thrust himself through the tight grip of his hand, letting his own precum slowly lubricate the length. He tried to keep it slow, languid, but as unsatisfying as fucking his own fist was, thoughts of peeling his mate out of her clothes, of watching her pleasure herself as he jacked off, soon had him thrusting harder and faster.
Still, it wasn’t enough.
Kicking off his jeans, Bard spread his legs and threw his head back, letting his other hand slide down over his chest, gripping his own pec as he imagined Harper would if she was riding him. Digging his heels into the mattress, he fucked his fist with an increasing savagery, twisting his hand, letting the sensitive underside of his glans graze over his calloused palm until his fingers where coated with his glistening precum.
Reaching down, he tugged at his heavy, churning balls, until he felt that tingle racing through his cock, the muscles in his lower body spasming violently as he exploded messily with a strangled, hoarse howl. Jet after jet of his molten seed coated his chest, some splattering up his neck as he collapsed in a sweaty, sticky heap.
Panting heavily, Bard glanced down at himself with a wry chuckle. “Well, at least it’s easier to clean up without all that hair, eh?”
Glad he hadn’t already changed his sheets, Bard groaned as he rolled out of bed and reached out to grab one of the towels he kept conveniently located in the small side table next to his bed. Mopping up the mess he made, he quickly stripped the bed and padded naked downstairs to toss everything into the washer as he changed loads.
By the time he had finished putting away his clean clothes, changing his sheets and duvet, showering (again), trimming his beard, and had dressed himself, it was almost time to head out. Giving a last quick glance around, he blinked as he saw the most incriminating evidence of his secret life laying out on his desk. Quickly, he packed up the bag and dashed downstairs.
Hitting the concealed switch, he waited for the secret trapdoor to his dungeon to swing open. Without needing to turn on the lights, Bard easily navigated down to the converted basement, tossing the bag unto the bench.
No, even if she was his fated mate, he wasn’t quite ready to reveal this about himself quite yet. Only after she’s already in love with me, properly claimed and marked. Maybe then! He thought to himself, ignoring his wolf’s obvious disgust as he headed back up to the main floor.
Making a mental note to ensure that none of that circle of friends sprung out of the woodwork to scare off his mate, Bard pocketed his keys and wallet, and headed out, humming happily as the trapdoor silently closed behind him.
♥♥♥
It really took only a little over a half hour to get from his place to the Village, and every mile Bard got closer, the harder his heart seemed to beat. If he didn’t know better, he would swear both he and his wolf were about to hyperventilate with both nerves and excitement. But werewolves, particularly Ulfhednar, didn’t hyperventilate! They panted manfully, at worse! Grunted, at best!
For perhaps the dozenth time in the last ten minutes, Bard wondered if he had dressed appropriately. Harper had said simple, and considering it was a holiday, and there really weren’t a lot of restaurants except for the Château’s steakhouse close by, there weren’t too many options available outside of heading into Denver proper.
He was wearing his best jeans, he had even ironed them! As he had done with the blue-black-and-white checked flannel shirt he wore tucked into his jeans. With a nondescript black leather belt, his dressy black cowboy boots, and his nicest leather jacket, he was about as dressed up as he ever got. But his mate? From what he had seen, and from what Tanja had gone on and on about, all told him that she liked to dress in expensive, designer labels, and she wore them well!
Pulling into the parking lot, Bard spotted the big, pink monster of a truck. Squinting, he grinned as he spotted the fancy script Little Lady. He would bet damn good money that was his mate’s vehicle. Pretty and pink, but tough and no nonsense. Parking next to the Laramie, he hopped out and took a deep scent.
Yep, that was her lingering essence all around the truck. Definitely hers.
Once more, feeling that big Wolf-Ate-Little Red smile threatening to break free, Bard headed to meet his destiny with a rather purposeful stride. And he might have even had a little eager bounce to his step.
Quickly making his way to where his and Harper’s shoppes were, he was bemused to see her shoppe swarming with the puppy pack from earlier. Narrowing his eyes, he saw no sign of the twins, which was probably a very good thing, but just why were the boys all hanging around Harper’s?
His steps faltered as he caught the whiff of something sweet, buttery, chocolatey, mingled with another epic scent of cinnamon, cream, and…tropical?
Now more curious about the intriguing scents than by the presence of the puppy pack, Bard padded over to find his yet-to-be-properly claimed mate, handing over a tray of cupcakes and what looked to be chocolate-chocolate chip cookies to the tallest boy, who was laughingly holding it over his head while the little ankle biters laughingly tried to get him to share.
Seeing her surrounded by a pack of pups, laughing and happy, wearing a pair of jeans molded to her curvy body, a pair of slouch boots, and a dove-gray hoodie that laced up the sides, emphasizing her full breasts and the dip of her waist, with the hem in back dipping low over the curve of an ass he desperately wanted to palm, Bard felt his heart stutter.
Catching her laughing gaze, Bard’s chest swelled instinctively as she gave him one of those smiles that only seem to be shared by those intimately involved with one another. A private curve of the lips that invited him in to lose himself in her world.
He had never been so happy to be lost in his life.