There were many things in life Bard made no excuses about not understanding. Witchcraft was one of those things. It had never really touched his own life directly, before now, so he had never given it a second thought.

Hel, he had never known about what had happened to his own aunt. Granted, his father’s pack had moved to the North American continent almost a thousand years ago, long before the Inquisition wracked Europe, but in those days, before the Tuatha had retreated, portals were common between the continents, letting supernaturals jaunt fairly easily back-and-forth, comparatively speaking.

So yeah, there were many things that Bard didn’t know.

But he knew that what he felt for his mate was not a “hex.” Never, for a moment, did he believe she had used witchcraft to charm him, not when she was more than capable of doing it without resorting to magic!

He knew that he loved her, his wolf loved her, and she for some reason he’d never question, loved him back.

He had faith in her. Complete, absolute trust.

So, when she told him that the hex he was apparently under was actually trying to target his brothers, he believed her.

Making sure her ears were protected, he threw his head back and let his wolf howl!

He had an excellent set of lungs, if he did say so himself, but with the natural acoustics of the amphitheater, his piercing howl shattered the night, splintered the silence of the Rockies, and shut everyone’s damned mouths.

For a few moments, at least.

As all eyes turned towards him, Bard lowered his hands from where they covered Harper’s and said calmly, “It’s not me the magic is after, it’s one of my brothers.”

Eyes turned from Bard towards were Aksel and Donar stood, where they had been trying to get their packmates to settle-the-fuck back down and at least pretend to be civilized.

Glancing at each other, they both looked back at him.

“Us?” They echoed in identical, incredulous voices.

Harper quietly walked over to them, her eyes narrowed as she studied them. Finally, she nodded her head and pointed to Donar.

“It’s after him. It’s trying to use your pack bond to latch on to him.”

“Why didn’t it snag him this morning? He was right there?” Bard asked.

“Hey!” Donar protested, holding up warding hands and pointedly stepping further away from Bard, ducking behind Aksel. “Wait, why me?”

The one who introduced herself as Soo walked up to Harper, intently studying Donar as she would a bug. “Hmm, you’re right! But it’s a weird sort of hex, isn’t it? It’s like the caster couldn’t decide whether they loved him or hated him. If it actually latched on to him, he’d have become like a devoted puppy who got castrated.”

“…castrated?”

Donar’s voice was noticeably shaky, and he paled. He had to lean against his older brother for support as he swayed on his giant feet.

The dork.

Sam, who had managed to slip free of Rik and Bertie’s protective crowding, likewise appeared to be studying Donar.

“It’s got a similar signature to that geas that was affecting Evie. It would have bound him, hook, line, and testes.”

None of the men present could blame Donar for instinctively cupping himself. It was purely a defensive measure.

“Can you tell where the magic came from?” Sinclair’s voice was neutral, almost too calm, too collected. Bard shuddered, his wolf instinctively bracing himself.

“I can’t,” Harper admitted, shaking her head, “I don’t know enough.”

Soo likewise shook her head, “I’m not familiar with this particular magic. It’s witchcraft, but it’s fae-touched. Sort of. It’s… weird.”

Both women turned to look at Sam, who sheepishly grinned and shrugged. “Yeah, one sec.” Turning towards Rik, she held out her hand.

Striding towards her, grumbling something about stubborn, headstrong wenches under his breath, Rik took Sam’s hand while Bertie quietly moved behind them.

Sometime during the chaos, Bertie had slipped from his Mortal Guise into his full gargoyle form. The fucker was huge! Nine feet tall, and almost as wide at the shoulder, his body a solid gray mountain of chiseled, bulging muscles inlaid with obsidian tattoos that glistened with iridescent energy. His obsidian eyes crackled with blue-white electricity, and Bard just thanked the gods and goddesses he wasn’t calling down a tornado or thunderstorm this time. Nope, instead of in a battle-rage, he was simply curling his massive, dragon-like wings protectively around Sam and Rik, though he also included both Harper and Soo in the shadow of his wings.

With a tight grip on Rik’s hand, Sam’s eyes went unfocused as she intently studied Donar. Following images only she could see, she looked at Bard. Bard shuffled under her intent gaze, a bit discomforted by the sensation that she saw a lot more than most other people.

Furrowing her brow, Sam’s eyes snapped closed and she groaned, as if in mortal pain.

Rik grabbed her up into his arms, “What, baby? What’s wrong?”

Opening her eyes, looking heartbroken, Sam wailed, “It’s Selene! Who’s going to do my hair now!”

A dreadful stillness filled the amphitheater. An absolute and total silence as eyes sought out the woman in question. She wasn’t there. Not that anyone expected her to be, but even supernaturals had their moments.

“Reginald,” Sinclair said calmly, “Please, go retrieve this Selene and secure her in the cells. We’ll deal with her shortly.”

Turning to face the crowd, he arched an eyebrow and gave them all a pointed sweep of his eyes. “Now, if you would please return to your seats, we can wrap up this little melodrama and return to our lives.”

The rest was fairly anticlimactic.

After everyone left the stage area, except for Bard and Harper, Roar and Karin, Jean-Paul and Judith, and of course, Killian Sinclair, the dark Lord of the Gray turned to regard the Leons. “Have you made a judgement, Guardians?”

“Oui,” Jean-Paul said simply. “Harper Llewellyn is innocent of the claims laid against her. Sanctuary is granted.”

Turning his attention towards the Ulvfangs, Sinclair asked, “And you?”

Roar had the grace to look a little shamefaced, though his heavily bearded chin was tilted at a stubborn angle as he returned Sinclair’s glare with a sullen silence.

With a soft sigh, Karin lowered her eyes and ducked her head, “We drop our claim for wergild and beg the forgiveness from our son and his mate.”

Holding Roar’s glare for a few more moments, Sinclair heaved a sigh and turned those strange eyes towards them.

“Harper Llewellyn, please accept the apologies of the Gray Court, in addition to those given by the Guardians of the Cœur de Lyon Sanctuary. You and your mate are free to leave. We are sorry to have bothered you with this mess. Once we have secured the one who is actually guilty of the attempted bewitchment, we will be in touch.”

Sinclair dispelled the misty glamour surrounding the amphitheater with a disdainful wave of his elegant hand. “Now, everyone, go about your business.”

Without another word, Sinclair disappeared, as if he had never been there.

While the grumbling crowds dispersed, Bard suffered through hugs from his brothers, while Harper had to deal with hugs and squeals from not only Sam and the females who had stood beside her, but also from his sisters. He’d have to make it up to her later.

Catching sight of Ace, looking around as if he were trying to find someone, Bard thought about telling him that Clayton was out of town for business, but as he was about to head over, he caught sight of his parents.

Roar and Karin hesitantly approached, but Bard waved them off. “I’m sorry pappa, mama, we’ll come over for dinner this weekend and we can talk, but right now… just go. Please.”

Wrapping his arm around his mate, Bard gently pulled her from the crowd with a murmured, “Come on, darling. I want to get you out of here. We’re going to go crash at my place, so I know you’ll be safe.”

It was a testament to just how drained his mate was, when she just nodded, wrapping an arm around his waist as he escorted her out of the Village and to his truck. She only paused once, as they reached the puppy pack. She gave each one of them a tight hug.

“We’ll see you soon, guys. Erik, you watch out for the boys ‘til we get back, okay?” She asked, holding the young man’s gaze steadily.

With a nod, Erik gave her a small grin, “Yes, ma’am.” Towards Bard, he said, “Take care of her, sjef.”

Clasping Erik’s shoulder, Bard grinned, “I will.”

As they drove away from the Village, Harper leaned against his side, and he kept one arm protectively curled around her shoulder. It made shifting gears a bit of a juggle, but somehow, he managed.

Rousing her from the light doze she had slipped into, Bard gently kissed her forehead. “We’re here, darling. Come on, I’ll show you around later. Right now, let’s go take a nice, long bath and cuddle.”

Her sweet, husky laughter was music to his ears. “I’m on to you, Mister Wolf. ‘Cuddle’ is code for nookie.”

“Well, I wouldn’t complain if there was some nookie involved,” Bard admitted, but his grin was tender as he lightly stroked the back of his fingers over her cheek, “But I’m just as happy to spend the night holding you and talking. We moved pretty quick, and it’s been a busy few days, so I’m all for just being lazy and laying around.”

Rubbing her cheek against his hand, Harper admitted, “Lazy sounds really good right now.”

Taking her hand, Bard gently lifted her out of his truck and escorted her into his home, his wolf instantly relaxing now they had their mate safely tucked into their own den. He hadn’t realized just how tense he and his wolf were still until that moment.

Things could have gone wrong in so many ways.

Putting those thoughts out of his mind, Bard said instead, “Welcome home, darling.”

He gave her a quick tour of the downstairs, of his work space and studio, of the front area that had been converted into a store. He showed her the common areas, the large kitchen and dining room, and the spare rooms often used by friends looking for a place to crash when in Grand Lake. He may have accidentally-on purpose forgot to show her the secret door into the basement. There would be time for that, after they had been mated for a while.

Sweeping her up into his arms, he carried his giggling mate up the stairs to the loft. “It’s not exactly a threshold, and I figure we may want to start looking for a place that we can make ours together, but my home is now yours.”

Carrying her through the bedroom area, he took her directly into his large, custom bathroom, insanely pleased he had thought to clean his place. He was also inordinately proud of the custom bathroom he’d had installed, which not only included a huge shower, but a jacuzzi tub more than big enough for both of them.

Yep, life was going to be good. Very good. Starting now!