Baxter was beside himself, whooping and cheering and screaming. He'd bought a coke before the game started and that was soon spilled everywhere. He didn't seem to notice or care.
After the game, he excitedly relived it, giving Piper a blow-by-blow account of what they had just seen. Uphoria had won, with Patrick Giles making at least seventy-five percent of the goals. He had acknowledged her sitting in the stands and she wondered what he was playing at… He knew that she and Baxter were mated, so he couldn't be making a play for her, could he?
Werewolves mated for life. It was a biological thing. It wasn't the same for witches, but Piper loved Baxter. He was all she wanted.
The petite woman who had dropped off the tickets earlier found Piper and Baxter before they left the building and told them that Patrick wanted to see them. They exchanged shocked looks and followed after her. Piper's mind whirled.
They waited in a comfortable room, being served taquitos, loaded potato skins and raspberry cheesecake. It was so good that Piper ate everything, even though she wasn't hungry.
Patrick arrived soon. Baxter's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. It looked like he even stopped breathing. Piper wasn't sure if she should be amused or jealous, but he was meeting a hockey God, so she only gave his hand a small flick to remind him to close his mouth.
"So you're Baxter," Patrick grinned as he offered his hand to her mate.
"Y-yes."
The two stared at each other, as though sizing the other up, but not in a threatening way. There almost seemed to be electricity flashing between them. Piper became uncomfortable and cleared her throat. "I'm here too, boys."
Baxter jumped and Patrick flashed a white-toothed grin at her.
"Believe me, we would never forget that." He settled on the couch. "I'm glad you both came. I have something I want to discuss with you. I understand that you are a mated pair. I have been looking for quite a while for a couple for my trois amour and you are the ones I want."
Piper's jaw dropped. What in blazes was she supposed to say to that?
She knew that many Werewolves formed groups of three, usually with two men and one woman, but she had never considered being in one herself. She was happy with Baxter and certainly didn't want him to think he wasn't enough for her!
She did find herself attracted to Patrick, but it wasn't like she could just take him out for a test drive–mating was for life. If this threesome didn't work out, then it would break more than just hearts. It could break the Werewolves' souls.
She became aware that Baxter was speaking and forced herself to listen.
"I have always known that I've wanted an Alpha," Baxter said. "I—"
Piper frowned. "You're my Alpha," she interrupted.
Baxter smiled at her and shook his head. "I'm a Beta. I've always known I was. And, I would like for the three of us to be a trois amour."
Piper gasped. "You would?"
"I would. But my first concern is your happiness, so it's your choice."
Her first instinct was to say no. How could three people sharing their lives and bed even work? She rubbed her clammy palms against her thighs. "I, uh… I don't know. I've never considered this before."
Baxter sighed. "I should have spoken to you about my feelings before now. I'm sorry. But maybe with time—"
"We'll date," Patrick interrupted. "Get to know each other. No rush to make up your mind." He stood. "I'll drive you home. My assistant will drop off your car."
Chapter Three
Piper did not sleep well. Baxter had fallen asleep just as she made up her mind to talk about Patrick's proposal. So she stewed in her thoughts all night, eventually moving to the couch so that her restless tossing and turning wouldn't disturb her mate.
What was a witch to do? She'd had dreams about two men, but it wasn't something that she'd ever seriously considered. Now a second Werewolf directly told her that he wanted her and her mate as his mates. They didn't even know each other.
Would they even get along? Would all of them be mated to each other, or would it just be Baxter and Patrick mated to her?
The next morning as she made her breakfast, a protein fruit smoothie, Baxter wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled the back of her neck.
She turned to him. "Are you serious that you wouldn't mind having a trois amour?"
A smile twitched his lips. "Yeah. I am. Like I said, I've always known I wanted an Alpha. And if that Alpha can get us free tickets to hockey games—"
"This is serious."
"It's really not that complicated. I want an Alpha and I've seen Patrick assert his dominance with his team time and time again. He's a strong, confident male and exactly the kind of Alpha I want. But what you want is equally important. If you're not comfortable with adding a third mate, then I will be satisfied with monogamy."
"But would you be happy?"
Baxter pressed his lips to hers. "I'm happy when you're happy."
Piper sighed. She owed it to her mate to at least try this out. Nothing would become permanent until they mated, anyway. The image of the three of them kissing and groping each other came to her mind, making her cheeks flush. "Bax…"
He waited, but she couldn't figure out what she wanted to say so, she just shrugged. She rubbed the back of her neck, which prickled uncomfortably.
Wait.
She stiffened suddenly. Jerking away from Baxter she swore fluently and rushed for her coat.
"What is it?"
"The security spells at the gallery were tripped!" She swore again, shoving her feet into her boots. How long had it been going? How could she not notice before?
Because I was so distracted and tired. Or it had just happened.
When she stepped outside she saw a thick layer of frost sticking to the car windows, so she rushed back in, grabbing her dollar store flying broom. It was really too cold out for broomsticks, but this was an emergency.
Baxter opened his mouth to protest, but Piper pushed off, quickly gaining altitude so she flew over the buildings. The wind bit through her coat and her ears soon numbed. With one hand she pulled her blue and purple hair over her freezing cheeks, attempting to stay warm.
She was at the gallery in a matter of seconds and as she landed, her heart sunk. The large front window had been smashed, shards of glass everywhere, the metal grating Baxter had installed blown open. Somebody had used a powerful hex to get inside.
Piper rushed in, digging into her pants pocket for her cell phone.
She'd been so sure that her magical security system would be enough to stop anybody from breaking into the gallery, that she had been reluctant to spend cash she didn't have on a non-magical system. They were so easily disrupted and didn't prevent people from entering. The magical security system was meant to keep out everything and everybody except for her when the gallery was closed. Obviously, it hadn't worked.
Baxter arrived just after Piper phoned the police to report the break-in. He rushed to her side and wrapped his arms around her.
"This always happens," Piper seethed, pushing him away. She was in no mood for physical contact right now. "As soon as I get a break, something terrible happens. I really need to go to a magi and see if I'm hexed. I've been saying it for years but this time, I'm actually going to do it!"
"Go get your inventory list so we can see what's missing," Baxter said calmly.
Piper shook her head–of course. She was so distraught that she didn't even think about checking inventory. It was one of the reasons she loved Baxter. While she was getting emotional and certain that she was hexed, he focused on the more practical side of things. He was always there to keep her grounded.
By the time the police showed up, Piper had gone through the inventory both in the front and back of the shop.
"Nothing's missing," she told the police, leaning against Baxter as relief coursed through her. "It's just the damage to the storefront."
"Probably some out of towners mad that their team lost in the Wolf League," the police
officer, Anna Johnson, a bulky, tall Werewolf, said, jotting down something on a notepad.
"As if I have another reason to hate hockey," Piper muttered.
Johnson chuckled. "I wouldn't say that too loudly or else the locals will come after you, too. You're in Canada, after all. Hockey's our biggest religion. If I didn't know you were born and raised here, I'd swear you were a foreigner. But rumor has it that Patrick Giles wants the two of you for a trois amour."
Piper flushed at the expectant look that Johnson gave her, but Baxter nodded proudly.
"Are you planning a wedding, or will you keep it to a private mating ceremony?"
"Aren't you supposed to be policing, not gossiping?" Piper interrupted. "We're not certain we're going to have a trois amour."
Johnson shrugged. "There weren't any usable scents and the magic is your basic garden variety. No special prints on it."
"That seems a little too well planned for a drunk angry person," Piper frowned. "You have to go through like five steps to scrub your prints from magic."
"We'll make sure to put a patrol on every hour after it gets dark to this area, just in case," Johnson said. "In the meantime, I suggest that you get this cleaned up and ready to open for business. The town's rumor mill will be producing a lot of curious folks to come see the witch that Patrick Giles has his eye set on."
"Thank you," Baxter said.
Piper blushed.
***
Baxter ran out for some fixit spray before he had to go to work while Piper swept up the shards of glass. The heating system was working overtime, which was going to end up in a high bill, but at least there hadn't been a wind or anything to knock the pieces around.
I just got ten thousand dollars. I'll have some leftovers, maybe enough to get that rattle in the car fixed.
When Wragge stepped onto the street from his stupid convertible corvette, Piper groaned. He looked at the damage to her gallery with an expression that was far too innocent.
Piper frowned as he came closer. Could he have something to do with what had happened here last night? He wasn't the best of neighbors, but would he really stoop so low?
"Miss Diamond," he greeted, deliberately walking through the pile of debris she had swept up. "It looks like you had some trouble last night."
"Nothing I can't handle," she replied through gritted teeth. "We're not open, so could you—"
"I hope nothing of value was taken?"
Piper sighed and shook her head. "Just some vandalism."
"Oh, good. I am glad to hear that," Wragge smiled, his gaze sweeping from one end of the shop to the other. "What luck that they'd only take that hideous amateur piece that you insisted on keeping behind the register."
Piper's face drained of color. She whirled around and found he was right. The wall behind the register was empty. Piper's heart leaped to her throat and she ran across the gallery. Maybe it had just fallen, or…
There was no sight of it. Her eyes filled with tears. How could she have been so worried about everything, and not even notice that it was missing?
It was a painting of the view looking down at an apple tree from a window. Her mother had painted it, showing the view she saw every day from her hospital bed as cancer slowly drained her life away.
"I never understood why you kept it around," Wragge continued. "It was a worthless, amateurish—"
Piper whirled on her heel throwing out both her hands towards Wragge. "Purpura informos!"
She grinned as large purple pustules broke out over Wragge's skin. He yelped, waving his hands around and trying various anti-hex wards. Piper laughed.
"It's a hex of my own design," she told him. "I'll take it off if you tell me what you've done with my mother's painting!"
***
"Mr. Wragge agreed not to press charges, given the circumstances," Officer Johnson said as she let Piper out of the community jail cell. "But you can't go around hexing people for being rude to you."
"He's the one who broke into my gallery," Piper insisted, as she had for the last several hours.
"He was at home celebrating the Wolf League's run of luck. We have dozens of witnesses backing him up."
Piper scowled as she collected her belongings. If Wragge didn't do it himself, he had hired somebody else to do it. She didn't speak as she was lead out of the station. Baxter waited for her and gave her a relieved hug.
"I've fixed the damage at the gallery," he told her as they headed for the car. "And I went out and bought a new security system. You're a good witch, but this one is magic and non-magic. It will protect the store better."
"Thank you," Piper whispered, slumping into the passenger seat. She didn't want to talk right now.
"I'm going to find your mother's painting. I'm going to get it back for you."
Piper nodded, not saying what was on her mind. Thor Wragge had stolen it. He was a powerful warlock and crafty enough to know that the more valuable pieces had stronger security around them. She'd never thought somebody would want to steal her mother's painting. In all likelihood, Wragge would have destroyed it by now.
I'm going to prove he did it. Somehow. And then he'll be sorry.
Chapter Four
Piper crushed nutmeg and foxtail in a mortar, using the rhythmic pounding of the pestle to calm the anger that still burned inside her.
She was above the gallery in her studio while Baxter watched the downstairs. It was his day off at his own job, but he insisted that he wanted to give her time to paint today and took a shift at the gallery.
Piper loved to mix paints with her special blend of herbs that magically enhanced the vividness of the painting and protected them from everything, from bugs to water. To her, this was always soothing. The sweet, tangy scent of her mixture was already helping her shoulders relax. Given how grouchy she had been the last couple days, no wonder Baxter wanted her to paint.
She added the nutmeg and foxtail to her other ingredients: sage, witch hazel, mussel shell, and fairy wings–fair trade, of course. She only bought wings that had been naturally discarded and sold by the fairies. Fairies shed wings the way humans clipped their fingernails, but there were still some ruthless people out there that cut off fairy wings for a quicker profit.
Wragge probably buys bulk like that, she thought, the calming atmosphere of mixing paints evaporating in a second. She blew out an annoyed breath and dumped all the ingredients into a blender, liquefying them.
Just as she was adding a teaspoon of the mix into the paint she was going to be using for this picture, Baxter entered. He had been just as stressed and on edge as she had been since the break-in two days ago. Now his shoulders were relaxed and his face wasn't so pinched and worried.
"Patrick's here. He wants to talk to you. Should I send him up?"
Her studio was almost as intimate to her as a bedroom. Scattered around the room were various canvases that were in various states of being finished. She didn't let anybody but Baxter see them. They were too precious to her.
"I'll come down." She capped her paints and potion before she hurried downstairs, Baxter following after her.
Patrick was wearing a leather jacket that emphasized the broadness of his shoulders. Baxter was decently muscled, but he looked like pre-spider-bite Peter Parker next to Patrick's Hulk. The man was pure muscle head to toe. Blue jeans hugged the sculpted curves of his tight ass and there was a sizable bulge at the front that had Piper blushing.
Who wants to cuddle someone as hard as a rock? She tried to convince herself that there wasn't a very large part of herself that wanted to do this whole trois amour thing right now.
But she was not ruled by her hormones, dammit. She wasn't going to commit to something that she'd want out of at some point. It would be cruel to both of the Werewolves if she agreed without being completely certain she would last a lifetime.
"Are you okay?" Patrick asked the instant he saw her.
Piper's brow furrowed and she turned to Baxter. "You told him."
Ba
xter shrugged, looking slightly abashed.
"If I find the person who did this I'll rip his freaking head off," Patrick snarled.
Piper frowned at him and she folded her arms. "Not that I don't appreciate the sentiment, especially if it's Thor Wragge, but we've got to be really clear about one thing. I can handle my own revenge. If you find the person who did this, you bring him to me so I can rip his freaking head off."
Patrick's eyes widened briefly but he laughed and ran a hand through his brown hair. "You're a feisty one. No wonder the Beta was drawn to you."
"Baxter. His name is Baxter."
Her mate put an arm around her waist. "Pip, I don't mind being called 'the Beta'. I actually kind of like it. Makes me feel like those fighting fish. You know, pretty and deadly."
He waggled his eyebrows and Piper laughed. She turned back to Patrick, who stared at the two of them with a look of frustration and desire. His shoulders had gotten even tighter and he shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and gave them both a sheepish grin.
"God, I want to kiss you so bad right now."
Piper flushed. "I think we need to get to know each other better before that's even a possibility. No sooner than the third date at least."
Baxter sighed in frustration, but luckily he said nothing.
The other Werewolf nodded slowly. "In that case—"
"Actually," Piper interrupted, and her heartbeat started going crazy. Both Werewolves watched her, with hope she thought, but she just couldn't figure out how exactly to say what she was wanting to know. Ah, hell. Might as well just come right out and say it. "So the three of us—"
The tinkling bells of a customer entering the shop interrupted her. Piper ground her teeth in frustration. Officer Johnson's prediction that the gallery would have an increase in customers because of Patrick's attention towards her and Baxter had certainly come true, although there had been only a slight bump in sales. Still, it was better than nothing.
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