Harper stared blindly at the contract spread out before her.
She had already signed the damned thing, already gave her grandparents exactly what they wanted. She was officially no longer a Llewellyn. Legally, her name would be Morgan—at least until she and Bard made it to a Justice of the Peace, anyways.
With the same cold, efficiency that epitomized the Atlanta Llewellyns, since she had chosen to leave her family; they were cutting all ties. She still had the trust fund her father had set in her name, but the money didn’t really mean anything to her. She had built her own, rather comfortable, nest egg working for Daniels, Jameson & Walker, and if she kept on a few of her former clients that still wanted her on retainer, she wouldn’t have to worry about money any time soon.
Yet, none of that was why Harper’s mind wasn’t focused on the legal forms of familial dissolution. Nope, her mind was quite firmly lost in the warm, hazy bliss of “newly mated” life.
The week had passed in a blur, she and Bard pretty much spending all their time up in his loft, only emerging to eat. He had even closed his motorcycle shop for the week, putting a sign on the door that said, “Just Married,” and turned off the phones. All of them. Including her cell phone.
They had romped through his shop, had sex on nearly every surface, in every possible position, and spent hours just cuddling. Seriously, they really just cuddled and talked. She had mated an unapologetic cuddle-slut.
Then she had stumbled on his dungeon.
Oh Lord, the look on his face when she had accidentally triggered the secret switch that opened the hidden door leading down into a basement. Even now, she could clearly recall the look of shock and embarrassment on his face, his stuttering as he protested he hadn’t really been trying to hide it, he just didn’t want her to know about his dark secret until she was too in love with him to even think of leaving him.
More intrigued than upset, she had asked him to show her.
She had married a geek.
His “dungeon” was the ultimate Geek Cave. A huge table, complete with a digital tabletop, dominated one room, surrounded by heavily carved, heavily cushioned chairs. Three of the four walls were covered with bookcases, stuffed filled with books. Gaming books, everything from Dungeons & Dragons through Vampire: The Masquerade, obscure games from Europe; and boxes, and boxes, of board games she had never even heard of.
Apparently, her mate was a Dungeon Master, one who regularly had friends over, so he could run them through an epic fantasy campaign that had been going on for over thirty years.
Supernaturals playing fantasy roleplaying games. An actual werewolf who roleplayed vampires.
Calmly, she had told him that he could keep all his games, if she could keep all her romance novels.
Somewhere between him stripping her naked and then having her ride his cock while he sat in his “Master Throne” to more than one screaming orgasm; they had come to a mutual agreement to not tease one another about their preference in past-times.
Though, she had drawn the line at calling him Master anywhere outside of their bedroom.
A girl had to have standards, after all!
Still grinning, Harper looked up as she heard the door of her shoppe open, the gentle chimes of a bell announcing someone had come inside. Rising to her feet, she peeked around the corner to see who had come in.
Killian Sinclair stood there in all his dark, elegant glory.
Instantly, his eyes settled on her and he dipped his head. “Mistress Llewellyn,” he began, but Harper held up a hand to forestall him.
“Actually, it’s no longer Llewellyn. I’ve been officially disowned,” Harper admitted with a shrug, “And Harper is fine. Please.”
“Very well, Harper then,” Sinclair actually graced her with a faint smile.
Even if only to herself, Harper would admit that if not for the fact she was utterly head-over-heels in love and lust with her Viking, that man’s smile, even the faintest hint of one, could cause panties to spontaneously combust. Wow.
“How can I help you, Lord Sinclair?”
“Killian, please,” he replied, a rueful grimace on his face, “I find that I’m actually quite exhausted at only being referred to by a title or my last name. Anyways, to answer your question, I’m here to offer you a position.”
“A…what?”
“A position. I’m a currently forming my personal team. When I agreed to take over the responsibilities of serving as the Lord of the Unaffiliated, I must admit that I underestimated just how big a responsibility that would be.” His brow furrowed. “I do not do that often, so I find myself scrambling to build a network of individuals I can rely on.”
“But…I’m not a Sidhe,” Harper said. “I’m not Fae, I have no connection to the Courts, at all.”
“Technically, Harper, that’s not entirely true.” The corner of Killian’s mouth quirked up. “You see, as a Morgan witch, you’re descended from the union between a Tuatha and a mortal. That’s where your wilder magic comes from, enabling you to tap into the same natural forces that we draw upon. So, while you’re not ‘fae,’ so to speak, it’s precisely because you’re only distantly so that adds to your appeal.”
Feeling the need to sit down, Harper suddenly recalled her manners. “Uh, sorry, can I get you something to drink? Would you like to have a seat so we can discuss this?”
“No, no, that’s quite okay, Harper. I merely wanted to offer you a position as my solicitor. It would only be on retainer, and mostly involving affairs outside of the Court, dealing more with the Mortal-side of affairs.” Holding up his hand, he said, “Please, just think it over. There would be a healthy benefits package, and you would of course receive a suitable monetary compensation, but I was most impressed by your poise and your mind.”
Placing his sunglasses back on, Killian dipped his head in a formal half-bow, “Now, if you’ll pardon me, I should get back to dealing with Court affairs. Oh, and congratulations on your mating. Your wolf is a very lucky man.”
With that, he left.
When Bard came up behind her, moving silently for once, Harper just leaned back against his chest as his arms slid around her waist. One massive hand was spread possessively, protectively over the gentle swell of her stomach.
She had known he had quietly come in through the side door, had felt his presence even if her unheightened senses had no chance to detect the stalking predator protecting his mate and unborn child…or children, because Ulvfangs tended to come in multiples. Fucking potent bastard wolves.
“Well, darling?” Bard asked, resting his chin on the top of her head and rocking her gently in his arms.
Shrugging, Harper turned her head so she could brush her lips against the underside of his bearded jaw. “Hard to say no, but we’ll see how it goes. For now, we have other things to worry about.”
“Oh? Like…?” Bard teased, his hand slowly stroking down her abdomen, causing her to squirm delightedly back against his firm body.
“Well, we have an elopement to plan, a dinner with your pack to dread, final preparations for opening weekend next week,” Harper began ticking them off on her fingers. “We’re going to have to look for a place to live, formally adopt the Puppy Pack, I have witch practice with Soo and some of the local coven witches, you have D&D tonight with Strange and the gang…” She teased, giggling as he buried his face in her hair with a groan of defeat.
“Argh, wench,” he growled in his best Viking voice, picking her bodily up in his arms as he made his way towards the stairs, “We’re going to have to discuss your priorities!”
And taking her up into the loft, Bard proceeded to teach her how to properly prioritize. Again, and again, and again, as the Viking Werewolf Beast repeatedly claimed his Sassy Southern Belle.
The End…
…for now!