Axel's Pup

Axel’s Pup (Werewolves & Dragons, Book 1)

ISBN # 978-1-910081-05-1

Copyright © Kim Dare 2015

Published by Kim Dare

Edited by Chris Allen-Riley and Shannon Leeper

Cover Art by Kris Norris

First Edition – March 2015.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Kim Dare. Applications should be addressed, in writing, to Kim Dare at the e-mail address available at www.kimdare.com.

The author has asserted her rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book.

This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

Please note that this book contains sexually explicit content and is not suitable for anyone under the age of eighteen.

This book is my one hundredth commercially published title.

While most of those titles have been short stories and novellas, this is by far the longest and most ambitious story I’ve ever published.

Completing this book was neither a quick nor an entirely painless process, but looking back now, I don’t regret a second of it.

I love this book and the characters in it. I hope you love it too.

If it were not for the support of my parents, this book could not have been written. They’ve always believed in me, even at those times when I haven’t believed in myself. So this book, like my first and my fiftieth, is dedicated to them.

As the landlord of The Dragon’s Lair and leader of The Black Dragons Motorcycle Club, Axel Carmichael has seen it all and done it all. He’s a respected and experienced dom. Nothing shocks him any more, and nobody catches him off guard.

When Bayden rides up to The Dragon’s Lair on a bike worth more than most men earn in a year, and immediately demonstrates that he has far more attitude than sense, it’s easy for Axel to write him off as a silly little rich boy who’s about to get himself killed.

But, there’s more to Bayden than meets the eye. He’s no silly little boy, rich or otherwise, and werewolves aren’t easy to kill.

“You’re going to cum in your leathers when you see what’s just rolled up outside.”

Axel Carmichael raised an eyebrow at his friend. “A boy or a bike?”

“Both.” Griz hauled himself up onto a barstool. “A stunning boy, straddling the most spectacular bike you’ve ever seen. I’d sell my right nut to take either for a ride.”

Axel put a bottle of beer in front of Griz and marked it down on the tab behind the bar. “That makes him the fourth pretty boy you’ve fallen for this month, right?”

Griz waved that fact away. “This one’s something special.”

Axel shook his head. He’d known Griz for over a decade, and the guy had yet to spot a hot little sub he wasn’t willing to consider something special the moment he set eyes on him. Axel had long since stopped paying attention to—

“Told you so,” Griz muttered into his beer.

Axel ignored him, his attention fixed on the boy who’d just walked into his pub. Axel’s predictions had been all wrong. Forget golden blond hair, big blue eyes, flirtatious mannerisms and so little muscle it was a wonder he could control anything more powerful than a damn scooter. This particular man wasn’t anything like the boys Griz usually lusted after.

The boy paused just inside the door, but he seemed more interested in taking in his surroundings than in giving anyone the opportunity to get a good look at him. He was dressed inconspicuously enough—black jeans, white vest, black leather jacket hanging from his fingertips, and a motorcycle helmet in his other hand.

The boy approached the bar a yard or two away from where Griz sat. If the new guy was aware that he’d caught the attention of a lot of the regulars, he gave no sign of it. If he was nervous about walking in there on his own, he hid it well.

The boy hadn’t taken his sunglasses off when he came inside, but he looked young enough for that kind of pretention to mark him out as silly rather than pathetic.

Axel moved along the bar. “ID.”

“I’m twenty-three.”

“Good for you.” Axel pointed to the sign hanging on the wall behind him.
If you look under twenty-five you will be asked for ID. Deal with it.

The boy glanced toward the door as if considering leaving in a huff, but he didn’t give in to a temper tantrum. He passed a motorcycle licence across the bar.

“Sunglasses,” Axel said, automatically.

The boy took off his glasses and looked up. His eyes were amber and brighter than any human’s could be.

Axel checked the card, and there it was in red block capital letters: WOLF. “You’re a shifter—a werewolf?”

“That’s right.” The boy tilted his chin up. “I’m not looking for trouble.”

Not looking for trouble, but he obviously wouldn’t be surprised if he found it. The boy squared his shoulders as if he wanted the whole world to know he could deal with any hassle that came his way. His bravado might have been more believable if he’d been a few years older, or a few inches taller. As well as Axel could judge from his side of the bar, the boy barely scraped five seven, and he was lightly built with it.

Axel glanced at the licence again.
Bayden Wolf.
The picture matched. His date of birth confirmed he was twenty-three.

Axel handed the ID back. “What can I get you, Bayden?”

Bayden hesitated, as if it might be a trick question. “A bottle of Coke, please.”

By the time Axel had pulled a bottle out of the fridge, a crumpled five pound note rested on the bar. The moment Axel picked it up, Bayden grabbed his drink and headed for the door.

“Hey, kid.”

Bayden’s shoulders tensed. He turned back to Axel.

“Your change.” Axel held out the coins.

Bayden frowned as if confused by the concept of change, but he took the money. “Thanks.” He strode out of the pub, balancing his drink and all his belongings in one hand so he could put his sunglasses on as he went.

Griz moved down the bar toward Axel. “Is he really a shifter?”

“That’s what his licence said.”

“Still hot as hell,” Griz said. “And his bike’s even better.”

Axel glanced along the bar. Matt, one of his summer bartenders, was serving another customer, but there wasn’t anyone else queuing. Matt could handle things by himself for a few minutes, and there were plenty of club guys who’d bail him out if they saw him drowning.

Something about Bayden hinted that he was far more in need of a babysitter than Matt would ever be.

Axel stepped outside, Griz right behind him. It was already late summer. There was no guarantee that there’d be many good riding days left before autumn blew in. It wasn’t just guys from the Black Dragon Motorcycle Club who’d found their way to The Dragon’s Lair that day. Damn near every gay and bi man in the county had turned up. All the wooden tables outside the pub were occupied—Bayden must have snagged the last empty one. Motorbikes stretched from one end of the pub’s car park to the other.

Axel ran his gaze along the line of bikes. Halfway along, he faltered. A nineteen-fifties Triumph Bonneville. Even nestled between dozens of other bikes, it stood out like a beacon of pure, classic perfection.

“The boy’s riding that?”

Griz nodded. “Do you think he stole it?”

Axel frowned, looking from Bayden to the bike and back again. “Shouldn’t think so.” He looked way too calm for that.

 “Rich boy slumming it?”

“Maybe.” He wouldn’t be the first spoiled brat who thought spending a fortune on a bike he was too clueless to appreciate or ride well would impress a group of bikers. But, Bayden wasn’t making any attempt to show off.

“Present from his sugar daddy?” Griz offered up as an alternative.

“Could be.” Bayden wasn’t exactly pretty. But he was definitely hot enough to make lots of guys want to dip into their savings. If it was his benefactor who’d bought him the bike, it would explain why he seemed so oblivious to the treasure in his possession.

“I think he’s gay,” Griz announced.

Axel huffed. “He’s twenty-three and hot—you think he’s gay and interested in older men on general principle.”

Griz laughed. “A bit of optimism never hurt anyone.”

Axel nodded, but he kept his attention on the two men approaching Bayden’s table.

“Is it true?” the smaller man, Jarvis, demanded, loudly enough to draw everyone’s attention.

Bayden looked up. “Is what true?”

“You’re a shifter?”

Axel tensed, wondering how many men in the pub had overheard his conversation with Bayden.
I’m not looking for trouble.

Axel glanced at Jarvis, then at the massive bulk of Jarvis’ friend, Ford. They both rode bikes, but they were more like groupies than real bikers—guys who hung around on the fringes without any real clue what they were doing. Axel had long since marked them down as not representing a danger to anyone—but he didn’t usually have customers who looked even more clueless than them.

”I’m a wolf shifter,” Bayden specified.

“Rumour says wolves think they’re good fighters. Don’t believe it myself,” Jarvis said.

“Wolves fight,” Bayden confirmed. He didn’t speak loudly, but as hushed as everyone else was, his words carried easily on the evening air. There was that same touch of bravado in his voice, that dare to call his bluff.

“Reckon you’re better than Ford here?” Jarvis asked, with a nod to his friend.

Bayden looked Ford up and down. “Yes.”

He sounded confident; Axel had to give him that. He also sounded like he was about to get himself killed. Ford had to have six inches on him and a couple of stone’s worth of extra muscle.

“How about a wager?” Jarvis took a deep draft of his beer and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Or don’t your sort have the balls for that kind of thing?”

Bayden sipped his Coke. The way his lips wrapped around the rim of the bottle probably had every man there picturing him on his knees. “How much?”

“A round hundred.” Jarvis smirked. “Of course, if you can’t cover it, I’m sure we could find another way for you to pay us back.”

Axel studied Bayden carefully, but his shades made it damn hard to get a read on him. What was visible of his expression gave away nothing.

“When and where?”

Jarvis grinned. “Now—can’t give you time to get cold feet.” He looked over both his shoulders, checking that everyone was paying attention. His eyes settled on each member of The Black Dragons, as if he really thought that picking a fight with a kid would make them more likely to invite him to ride with them. Tosser.

Bayden shrugged. He put the top on his bottle of Coke.

“You don’t mind if we use the yard around the back of the pub, do you Axel?” Jarvis said.

Axel stepped forward.

Bayden glanced toward him. “We can take it somewhere else if you like.”

Axel looked toward Jarvis and Ford. If he refused to let the fight happen there, they’d probably just pick a new location—somewhere where there might not be anyone who’d step in if it went too far. “Here’s fine.”

Bayden walked over to his bike. He stowed his leather jacket, his half-finished drink and his sunglasses in one of the panniers. Taking off his vest, he put that in there too. Stripped to the waist, he showed some nice lines of muscle, but he was still a small guy. There wasn’t a spare ounce of flesh on him.

Axel had no doubt that most of the doms present were wondering what Bayden would look like with leather wrapped around his limbs and whip lines on his back, and trying to work out what their chances were. There was obviously no sugar daddy in the picture. A man who got by on looking pretty wouldn’t risk his face in a fight. So, silly little rich boy it was.

Apparently oblivious to his fascinated audience, Bayden turned to Jarvis and Ford. “Ready?”

Jarvis hurriedly downed what was left of his pint as Ford grabbed the gym bag that had been strapped to the back of his sport bike. When they headed around the side of the pub, everyone who’d been sitting outside followed them. Word had spread quickly and a lot of those who’d been inside swelled the crowd too.