Chapter Thirty-Two

Pleasure is found first in anticipation, later in memory.

—Gustave Flaubert

 

“IVER JORGENSEN, I’D like to introduce you to my mother, Liv Halvorsen,” Penn said and smiled as they both bowed at each other.

Iver extended his hand, holding out a small vase with a single flower.

“Thank you,” Liv said and placed it on the ledge of the cave wall in their open family room. “It’s lovely.”

“You’re welcome,” Iver said.

“Please, sit, and I’ll make us some tea,” Liv said, and Penn motioned to the couch where they took a seat.

He watched Iver as he looked around his childhood and young adult home and studied various things, lingering on photographs and knickknacks. Penn could sense Iver’s nervousness and moved his hand next to Iver’s on the cushion, sliding two of his fingers over Iver’s. He glanced at Penn and then down at their hands touching.

“My mother is very kind,” Penn whispered.

Iver relaxed as Liv came back with a large tray.

“He wouldn’t have said that as a boy,” Liv teased as she served them tea and took her seat across from them. “So,” she said.

“Ms. Halvorsen, I want to ask for your approval to mate your son,” Iver said, and Penn tried not to choke next to him.

“Straight to the point,” Liv said as if she respected it. “Why?”

“Your son showed me kindness and empathy, saved my life in a way, but ended my suffering. During that time, he provided and cared for me. While I did not see his actions or his fears, my siblings did. Despite everything he would have to give up, he did it to keep me safe. That kind of loyalty in a stranger for an enemy shows rare character. I was confused and still very sick when I woke, but my Wolf knew instantly he was our mate. Penn’s Wolf also recognizes me as his mate. I vow to provide, hunt, gather, mend, and sow. To share my life with your son as my mate for eternity. You should know there will be no life for him in the stars. I vow to be a kind and loyal mate until the end of time.”

“Penn,” Liv said.

“Yes,” Penn said without hesitation and blinked several times.

She smiled and nodded at her son. “Yes, you have my blessing, Pillar. Take care of my son, and when you know you love him, come back and tell me so.”

“I will,” Iver said and smiled at Penn’s mom. “Thank you.”

They chatted for a while, finishing their tea, and Iver excused himself to go and speak with pack members he had business with. He would return to their quarters shortly.

Once he was gone, Penn hugged his mom and whispered in her ear, “I need a mate gift. What in the world do I give to a god, Momma?”

She chewed on a fingernail and looked around their minimalist home. “Can you make him something?”

Penn looked around also, as if their home could provide any kind of inspiration. “Okay, I’ll think on it some more, but I think I’ve got it.”

“What kind of flower is that?” Liv asked, gesturing to the gift Iver had brought her.

“One that never dies,” Penn said quietly and put his finger to his lips for her to know not to tell it. “See why it’s impossible for me to think of a gift?” Penn said with a shake of his head.

“You’ll think of something,” Liv said just as Iver knocked on the door announcing his return.

“We’ll come back and visit often,” Iver assured her, and he and Penn headed back to their home.

 

NEITHER OF THEM mentioned waking up in each other’s arms in the mornings, though there was still hesitation on anything remotely intimate between them during the daylight. Each night, they alternated their individual turns in the bathroom privately, separately. But once in their shared bed, there was a shift—a graze, a repositioning, or a stretch that seemed to form a physical connection or link of touch. It drove Penn crazy. He found himself wanting to try things and experience them with Iver. Neither his body nor his Wolf were any help, betraying him with uncomfortable physical results or insinuation.

And Penn assumed most men in his situation would reach a point where action over inaction had to be taken. So, he would be brave; he’d decided. Or at least sort of brave as he listened to the relaxed, steady breathing of sleep next to him. He certainly was getting no sleep with the arousal that refused to go away. Silently and carefully, Penn rolled and inched closer across the few feet that divided them. The distance felt like the breadth of the sea as his body scooted closer. His heart raced, a knocking pounding nearly as loud as the throbbing of his blood coursing south and demanding he do something.

Penn made it, only an inch dividing them. He lifted his hand and slid his palm overheated, muscled, intricately inked skin. He felt warmth and smoothness and moved his face closer to Iver’s neck as the breathing changed, stopped even as Penn pressed his lips to that skin just beneath Iver’s ear. He held his breath as he lowered his lips only an inch and repeated the unfamiliar action, inhaling the rich scent of his mate. Iver sucked in a harsh inhale as his hand slid over Penn’s and squeezed. Another move, an inch closer, at the strong jawline, and Penn moved his lips there and held as if asking for permission.

Iver breathed, and his jawline moved slightly as if to encourage. Just a little farther, it seemed to say. Penn stretched as he pushed another inch closer to his goal with his lips as he squeezed the flesh under his palm, and the fingers of a larger hand tightened over his own.

“Iver,” Penn whispered against his lower cheek.

“Yes,” Iver whispered back.

“Look at me,” Penn said, and he swore he could feel the same hammering heartbeat in Iver beneath his palm, kicking beneath his own skin.

Penn watched a wet tongue peek out, dampen and rub lips as Iver turned his face and looked, not at Penn’s eyes, but at his lips, as he breathed harder through his nose.

Penn licked his own lips and moved closer, waiting, just air between the meeting of the pair. This was it, now or never, and Penn closed the distance, connecting his moistened lips to full ones and waiting for the return. The length of him throbbed, pressed to his stomach with such steely anticipation as Iver’s lips mimicked the movement against his. Penn kissed him again, more prolonged and lingering, wanting the gate to open and let him inside.