The fairy bastards had abandoned him. To a one, the members of a vaunted and feared unit of the Wild Hunt, took off and disappeared rather than deal with a hormonal teenage werewolf. Cowards!
Granted, Bard would have joined them in their strategic retreat if he had had the option, and would have even let them paint his belly yellow. Woden's Wolves, he'd have bought the paint and the brushes, if it would have spared him the indignity of it all. Alas, he had lost a bet, and like the mature, responsible adult wolf that he was, Bard had to show that one kept their promises and oaths, regardless of the outcome.
Note to self, plot an appropriate revenge once my hangover goes away, Bard thought to himself as he glared balefully at the smug, smirking, pretty face of his little sister over the head of her twin.
Now you know why she-wolves are called bitches, Bard's wolf said with far too much amusement at Bard's expense! You know you're fucked when even your inner wolf is against you.
"You promised," Tanja said simply, shrugging with the nonchalance only teenage girls could pull off as she slipped out the door of his battered F150 and hopped to the ground.
Her twin, Sanja, paused in her game play long enough to look up at him and mimic Tanja's shrug, as she echoed, "You did promise." Tucking her phone away, Sonja slid out to join Tanja.
Standing side-by-side, it was obvious they were identical twins, from their long blonde hair to the tips of their toes, but it was equally obvious they had extremely different personalities, just by the way they were dressed.
While Tanja dressed like your typical high school girly-girl, Sanja wore an old, worn black ballcap with Star Wars in silver embroidery—that the little wench had stolen from him—an oversized sweatshirt with a silver Storm Trooper on it, and battered blue jeans covered with splashes of different colored paint. Her Converse sneakers were also black and well-worn. She was the older of the two, by five minutes, but like Bard, she was a lot more laidback than most wolves.
"I knew mom and dad should've left you both at the pound instead of bringing you home," Bard grumbled as he begrudgingly climbed out of his truck and slammed the door shut.
Okay, so he was a sore loser, but the two she-wolves had ganged up on him in a moment of weakness!
"Nah," Tanja laughed, her eyes nearly glowing with laughter as she strolled backwards away from the truck. "Then you'd be stuck as the youngest!"
Sanja flashed him a droll look as she followed after her sister, hands in her pockets as she slouched along, "Face it, youngest brother gets treated a lot differently than youngest sister does. She's the princess."
There wasn't even the slightest hint of bitterness there. While Tanja reveled in her girliness, Sanja had always been more of a scrapper, the Lord High General to Tanja's Imperial Highness-ness.
"Besides, you love us!" Tanja announced brightly as waited for them by the door.
"Yeah, yeah," Bard pocketed his keys and steeled himself for the inevitable. He would face this like a proper Viking, like the big, strong alpha wolf that he was! He would, dammit!
With identical smirks on their lovely faces, Tanja and Sanja swung open the glass doors with a tinkling of delicate bells that sounded cheerfully loud in the crisp early morning air. Sanja even had her cellphone back out, recording every reluctant step Bard took as he marched in to face the ultimate torture that awaited him within the hallowed, perfumed bower of Mademoiselle Selene's Salon & Spa Boutique.
All because Sanja had trounced him royally in Killer Instinct.
But he was drunk!
And being harassed by his both of his older brothers! Traitors!
And being distracted by Tanja!
Pathetic excuses, Bard's wolf snorted. Face your future like a Viking! Like a wolf!
There were worse things than having two older brothers and two younger sisters all gang up on you. Sharing your body, mind, heart, and soul with the spirit of a Viking wolf for one! Having to treat your sisters to a full package deal at the salon and spa was another. But the absolute worst thing of it all? The shit-covered cherry on top of a shit sundae?
Coming face-to-face with one of your brothers' many, many, many exes and because he shared a face with them both, having to deal with their messes!
Okay, that is fair. The wolf allowed before strategically retreating to the furthest recesses of Bard's mind and leaving him to face the she-devil himself.
"Bon jour!" A cheerful "Mademoiselle" Selene called out in a trilling falsetto that set Bard's teeth to aching as she emerged from further in the boutique. "Comment allez...oh, it's you."
Yep, the French accent disappeared along with the bright, welcoming smile, Selene came face-to-face with Bard flanked by his two sisters.
"Well, which one are you?" Selene snarled, squinting suspiciously up at him.
Selene was an attractive woman, with her rich, dark brown hair in a stylish textured bob and a deep, golden tan—despite it barely being Spring. She wore white slacks and a dark green tunic, with turquoise and gold jewelry that jangled as she walked. Perfectly primped and styled, even deep in the Rockies.
Sighing heavily, Bard held up his hands in the universal sign of peace as he replied, "Bard. I'm Bard, the one that has absolutely no idea what Donar did, but have no doubts he deserves your eternal scorn.”
The muffled snickers of his sisters drew Selene's attention, and once more, she was the bright, flirty French "mademoiselle" as she regarded the two teenaged girls with a critical, calculating eye.
Glad her scary attention was elsewhere, Bard said, “I’m also the one paying for two full packages for his little sisters."
Tanja giggled, using her shoulder to bump Bard’s back as she chimed in, “Oh no, big brother, Bard…you’re paying for two full packages for us, and one full package for you, too!”
Jerking back, Bard’s head whipped around to stare at his youngest sister in horror. “I’m what? No, I don’t need no frou-frou shit!”
Okay, so the derisive snorts of disgust from all three females were not necessary. Nor was the cry of, “Oh honey, yes you do!” that came from one of the rapidly increasing number of ladies joining the conversation, all wearing the same spa uniform. Hemmed in from all sides now, although none of the females came higher than his chest, Bard had never felt so trapped in his life.
Patting his arm to draw his attention, Sanja said in that droll, serious tone of hers, “Look, Bard, the Faire opens in two weeks, and Tanja and I have some plans on how to draw more customers to your booth.” She smiled, that same wicked, wicked smile that all the siblings utilized when they were up to no good. “You just have to trust us.”
He may have whimpered, but closing his eyes and muttering a quick prayer to Woden, Bard finally muttered, “Fine. Three full-packages.”
Opening one eye, he cast a baleful glare at the sea of beaming faces looking up at him. Reflexively, he stroked his beard, “But no one touches the beard. That stays.”
“Mais oui!” Selene exclaimed in that bright, oh-so-fake, French accent as she gave an imperious clap of her hands. “Ladies, take care of these two lovely mademoiselles!”
As his sisters abandoned him to the untender mercies of Selene, she eyed Bard up-and-down with a look gave him goosebumps. Smiling widely, maliciously, Selene said in a sing-song voice. “Et pour toi, we have specialists who can help…” Turning her head, she called out loud enough to rival a werewolf’s howl, “Drew! Lizbet! Tout suite!”
A large, muscular woman and a petite, slender auburn-haired man emerged from the back, their eyes instantly appraising Bard. Instinctively, he took a step back. He knew predators, being one himself, and they both looked at him as if he was a tasty rabbit.
Fighting the urge to bare fang, Bard stiffened his spine and squared his shoulders. “Uh…howdy,” he reached up and took off his ballcap, letting his thick mane of tangled hair fall free. With his best puppy dog look, Bard said, “Be gentle, alright?”
Selene’s laughter as Drew and Lizbet led him towards the salon was less than reassuring.
Under threat of torture and eternal damnation, Bard would never admit that the next two hours were rather relaxing and pleasant! With Drew’s advice, Bard let the fox shifter cut his hair, shaving close on the sides and back, leaving a narrow strip of full-length hair that he could wear pulled back into a tail for a “modern Viking” look that was popular these days. He did allow them to trim up the beard a little, just neatening it up but keeping it at a reasonable length, but he absolutely refused to let them talk him into cutting it off entirely. Re-fucking-fused! A low, deep growl was all it really took to drive that point home.
Afterwards, Bard joined his sisters as they got manicures and pedicures. He even gave in to the pleading looks of both his sisters to spring for the OPI treatment, particularly when they found out that they had been given an advance on the Fall/Winter collection inspired by Iceland! Tanja went with Aurora Berry-alis, because it was a glowing pink and she was obsessed with the color. Sanja had gone with the dark purple Suzi & the Arctic Fox, while Bard had given in and let them paint his nails a dark ice blue known as Less is Norse. Yes, he let the ladies paint his nails, although being a blacksmith, he saw little purpose in it, although even he had to admit that his cuticles looked great and his toenails truly looked fabulous!
Hey, when you’re a 6’6” tall, 275 lbs. Nordic Werewolf with a chest and arms sculpted from swinging a heavy hammer, you can get away with painting your nails! Bard assured his doubtful wolf. Besides, it’s not like he was the Alpha, or even the Beta, of his pack, just one of the Enforcers, and the pampering beauty regimen was something his ancestors would have truly appreciated! Well, when they weren’t raping, and pillaging, and “Vikinging” their way across Europe.
There was a brief break for a lunch, if it could properly be called that, considering it consisted of these weird little cucumber-quinoa rolls, watercress salad, and green tea! Although the honeyed Greek yoghurt was quite tasty and Bard made a mental note to check out that brand later.
After “lunch,” they headed to the spa-side. After quickly changing into some terry cloth robes and some surprisingly comfortable slippers—and yes, they even had slippers big enough to fit his 16ers, thank you very much—Bard rejoined his sisters, who had likewise changed. He should have suspected they were up to something when they were whispering to one another, glancing back at him occasionally as he joined them, but he was feeling rather comfortable at the moment, and really looking forward to getting something called a “Warm Stone Full-Body Massage,” which sounded rather blissful. Even his wolf was all onboard for that!
The twins were muttering just low enough that even his enhanced hearing could barely make it out, but he managed to catch just enough that had him wary.
“Nah…” Tanja hissed, “He’d… chicken... big…”
Sanja nodded in agreement, again flicking her eyes back at him, as she hissed, “… Donar would… he’s not… omegadritt!”
“Language,” Bard cautioned, although without much heat, considering he didn’t have a paw to stand on when it came to ‘clean’ language. With reluctance, he finally gave in to his curiosity, “Okay, what are you two plotting now?”
In the provided robes, with their hair cut and styled, fresh faced and with those big blue eyes both staring up at him, Bard flinched away. “What? What?”
“Well…” Tanja drawled out, eyes flicking briefly over to Sanja, who nodded encouragingly, “We were going to get our legs waxed before our massages…”
“No,” Bard said, shutting that shit down now! RIGHT THE FUCK NOW!
“But!” Tanja stamped her foot and pouted, although the stamp was a lot less effect with the fuzzy slippers on her feet.
“No, you two can get your legs waxed, feel free, but no…I am…” Bard declared, feeling a flush rising up his neck as he met their stubborn faces.
“Told you he was an omegadritt,” Sanja muttered, “Donar would’ve waxed his chest if we asked him to.”
“Donar manscapes anyways,” Bard countered, “And he’s kinda dumb.” Shaking his head, he crossed his muscular arms over his manly, furry chest and stared down his long, narrow nose at his sisters, “You’re not going to guilt me or trick me into waxing my chest. No way, no how.”
“You asked for it,” Tanja responded in a lilting voice, “Do it, Sanja!”
Sanja whipped her phone out of the pocket of her robe and began rapidly swiping her finger, saying not a word.
Okay, now Bard…and his wolf…started to get nervous. “What are you doing?” he found himself asking before he could reconsider asking something he knew he did not want to know the answer to.
“Oh, just making a post to Instagram, Twitter, Tumblr, and Facebook,” Sanja replied casually.
“What post?”
Sanja paused, glancing up at him from beneath lowered lashes. “Sure you want to know? I mean, it’s not like we can guilt you or trick you into waxing your chest.”
Uncrossing his arms, Bard tried to lean up, tilting his head to try and get a glance of her screen, “So what are you posting then?”
“Pictures I’ve been holding on to from your birthday last year,” Sanja said nonchalantly, and there went that one-shoulder shrug again!
“Can’t prove it was me,” Bard replied smugly, “Could’ve been Aksel or Donar!”
Sanja’s response was to turn the screen of her phone to face him. There, in full color, was a picture of Aksel, face clean-shaven to show the baby face that his other brothers hide behind beards, and Donar, both wearing T-Shirts with their name on it standing on either side of as they supported an obviously drunk and passed out Bard.
Bard, however, was wearing a pretty pink ballgown, like something out of a Disney movie, with a name tag that read ‘My Name is BARD.’ His head was resting on Aksel’s shoulder as he snored away, his beard neatly braided while his hair was pulled up in a knot on top of his head, complete with a party tiara. But the killer, was what was written on his forehead, in bright, glittering pink letters: Omega.
“Seriously?” Bard muttered, scrubbing his face. “You’re seriously going to blackmail me to getting my chest waxed with that picture?”
Was it any wonder Bard preferred to stay away from his pack, his family, and hide out in his shop and studio?
While Bard’s wolf chortled, fucking chortled, the big guy gave a sigh and held up his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. You two have been hanging out with your other brothers too much,” he grumbled, “I give in. How bad can it be?”
A little while later, howls of such utter pain and suffering echoed throughout the valley, a song of such gut-wrenching desolation that it was added to a certain banshee’s favorite playlist and may have caused an avalanche or two—but those are just urban legends.