by Ava Walsh
Piper gaped. "A woman?"
"You heard me. Do you know her?"
"Never heard of her."
Piper's head spun. It was a woman. Kristal Clarkson. Not Thor Wragge. How was that possible? She had been so certain that it was him! Maybe he paid off this woman to do all that vandalism so that it wouldn't be traced back at him. That was it–Wragge had put her up to it and she was going to roll on him and he'd finally get his.
"Kristal Clarkson," Patrick repeated, frowning. "I know her."
Piper spun to face him. "You do?"
"She's a fan. A bit more than a fan, actually, she's obsessed. Remember the woman who interrupted our first date?"
Piper thought a moment then nodded. It was so long ago she'd erased the woman from her mind.
"That's her. She tried to get into the locker room at my last game and I've seen her hanging around my house. I'm sorry, I never made the connection between her and the vandalism at the gallery."
The police officer rose a brow. "There have been other incidents of vandalism?"
"At the gallery I had in Uphoria," Piper sighed. "A broken window, then somebody broke in and smashed everything. Is she a witch? They used magic to—"
"She's a witch. A pretty feisty one, too."
"The vandalism did happen right after we started approaching a trois amour," Baxter put in. "It could be because this Kristal was crazy obsessed and jealous."
"We'll have the truth out of her soon enough," the officer said. "In the meantime, I think your building is fine."
"She might not be working alone," Piper put in quickly, thinking of Wragge. There was still a chance, after all. A witch had to have hope.
"We'll have a car patrol the area for the rest of the night, but if she had a partner, they're probably long gone by now."
The conversation was obviously finished and Piper slumped back to the car with the Werewolves. Patrick handed Baxter the keys and slid into the backseat with Piper, pulling her onto his lap as they headed home.
"I'm sorry, I didn't see the signs." Patrick nuzzled her neck. He was catching onto what she liked quickly. "If I had, we could have prevented that little bitch from destroying your first gallery."
"Do you get stalker fans often?"
"Well… none so far I would classify as stalkers, but they can get a little over zealous at times," Patrick admitted. "This Kristal is the first real crazy one that I've had. But it's my job to protect you and I—"
"I just thought it was going to be Wragge." Piper crossed her arms and scowled. "I really wanted it to be him. I'd really like to see him crawling on his knees to beg me not to put him in jail."
"You have a real feud with him, don't you?" Patrick chuckled, though he stopped when Piper glared at him. "Look, I'll admit that guy is an asshole to you, but what I don't get is what started all this. Why does he have a vendetta against you?"
"Hell if I know." Piper slumped, knowing that wasn't quite true. "I may have started it."
Baxter snorted.
Piper glared at him. "Care to share anything, Baxter?"
"No, I think you're doing a good job."
Patrick raised his brow.
"Wragge churns out copies of the same piece of art magically. Like, those dumb wall-hangings that show the little kids playing hockey on a pond? He's been selling those for years, the same damn picture every year. Everything in his store is cheap and magically reproduced. He wanted to do that to my art. Can you imagine the nerve of him?"
Patrick's shoulders shook with suppressed laughter, but Piper was too upset to notice, her hands were clenched and she glowered out the window as streetlights zipped by.
"And when I told him in no uncertain terms that I wouldn't—"
"She called him a waste of breath and that he was going to hell for what he was doing."
"The devaluation of art is serious. Well, he got pissy and said that the only reason I felt that way was because I wasn't a good enough artist or witch to set up my own press like the one he had. Well, you can say a lot of things about me, but you insult my art and my magic and you've got a feud on your hands. And I don't mean insults like “my kid could paint that” - that's just ignorance and—"
She cut off as Patrick roared with laughter. With a huff, she tried to move off his lap but he just held her tighter. Elbowing him in the stomach only made him laugh even more.
"Ah, Piper. Piper, Piper, Piper. You're a little minx, you know that, right?"
Piper's shoulders hunched forward and she scowled.
"I was going to wait until it was officially official," he continued, "but I can see you need something to cheer you up. I've decided that I need to get more into the art business myself. Now I know you hate cheap reproductions, but I'm opening up an Artco franchise store in Uphoria. Only with cheaper prices and more variety then what Wragge has in his shop."
Piper gaped at him. "But… but that's going to cost you a small fortune! And… how is it even going to work?"
Patrick shrugged. "It'll hurt Wragge's business, which is its purpose. Just being there ought to have some effect on his bottom line. Like when a Tim Hortons opens up right next to a donut shop, it's going to hurt the donut shop."
It was Baxter's turn to laugh. "I'm glad we're out of Uphoria for that. I bet Wragge has smoke coming from his ears over this."
Patrick smiled in a self-satisfied way and Piper snuggled closer to him, laying her head on his shoulder. "Thank you."
Baxter hummed, and Patrick's eyes flicked over to him. "While we're on things that were going to wait, I think Baxter has something for you, too."
They were at the apartment building by this time and Patrick carried her inside. It was something she never thought she'd be able to experience, given her size, but Piper found she really liked being carried from one place to another. It made her feel special.
"You sure?" Baxter asked Patrick when they got to the apartment. "It can wait until morning–make you the hero of tonight."
"I'll have plenty of chances to be the hero. Besides, I think our little female here won't be satisfied until she knows what we're talking about," replied Patrick, his hands resting on her shoulders.
Baxter glanced at Piper's impatient expression and grinned. Patrick took Piper to the kitchen while Baxter disappeared in the hallway closet. Moments later he reappeared with a painting in his hands. Piper gasped. It was an apple tree, painted from the view of a window high about it. Tears filled her eyes as she reached for the painting.
"My mother's painting. How did you—"
"I found it at a secondhand store. Couldn't believe my eyes." Baxter kissed the top of her head. "There's no real telling how it got there, but I suspect Kristal Clark had something to do with it. More so than Thor Wragge."
Piper didn't care. She quickly went to the den and took down the abstract piece she had hung over the couch, replacing it with her mother's picture. Stepping back to admire it, she leaned against Baxter as he put an arm around her waist.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"It was my pleasure."
Piper looked up at him with a glint in her eye. "Oh, you can count on it."
She grabbed his hand and pulled him into the bedroom, Patrick trailing after with a grin stretching from ear to ear.
Chapter Ten
The first game of the new hockey season was exhilarating.
Piper jumped up and down next to Baxter, completely enthralled as her eyes followed Patrick from one end of the rink to the next. She could see his breath puffing into the air and watched a trickle of blood run down his lip where he had been elbowed by another player. The puck moved so quickly that she couldn't see who had it.
It was odd how fun hockey suddenly became, now that she had a certain player to keep her eye on and cheer on.
There were ten seconds left on the clock. The score was 2-1 in Uphoria's favor. The opposing team was vicious and it was only because of the goalie's skills that they hadn't scored more points. Piper could see Patrick's fr
ustration mount with every passing second.
"He's got the puck, he's got the puck!" she screamed, clawing at Baxter's arm.
Baxter winced then laughed and cupped his mouth and hollered encouragement.
"Destroy them!" Piper screamed, caught up as the final second ticked by. "Kill them, kill them!"
Patrick slapped the puck hard as the opposing players went after him. It sailed through the air, a black disc against the white ice. The net caught it, bouncing it back into the goalie's head just as the buzzer rang, indicating the end of the game.
Piper stomped her feet and clapped her hands, whooping and hollering. Baxter grabbed her around the waist, swinging her around their private box, pressing fevered kisses to her neck and face. Piper grinned and laughed, glancing down at the rink. Patrick glared up at them, his wolfish lips pulled back in a grin. Once he caught Piper's eye he crooked his finger, beckoning her.
"I think Patrick wants us to wait until he can join us," she laughed, pushing Baxter away.
In response, Baxter grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the box. They were soon in the locker room.
It had been startling when Patrick first invited them in and being around all those naked or half-dressed Werewolves had made Piper red as a tomato and highly uncomfortable, but none of them gave her a second glance.
That was the Werewolf way. They weren't phased by nudity and certainly weren't attracted to a person that wasn't a possible mate.
"That was amazing!" Baxter gushed as he threw his arms around Patrick.
Piper hung back. Baxter and Patrick might have no problem with kissing when one or both of them were in the wolf forms, but fur was not a turn-on to her. The last thing she wanted was to be hacking up fur balls.
After Patrick removed his hockey gear and had retaken his human form, he pulled both of his mates to the shower to celebrate. They were individual cubicles, but it was still only afterward that Piper realized that his teammates would have been able to hear every single moan. Her face flushed as she toweled off and redressed.
"You wolves!" she shook her head. "I don't know what I'm going to do with you. Sex maniacs, both of you."
"That's why you love us," Patrick chortled. "Besides, I didn't see you protesting. Quite the opposite, in fact."
The locker smelled like sweat, old shoes and wet dog, but it had emptied sometime while the three had been in the shower. Well, at least that was a relief. She turned to her boys, putting her hands on her hips.
"So, I heard that some place in British Columbia is going to host some of the Wolf League games this year?"
Patrick nodded, a grin spreading over his face. There was a split in his lower lip and bruises on his cheek, but violent games always seemed to make him more excited. "That's right. We're getting bigger, Piper. More and more people are wanting to see our games."
"Because you're like modern day gladiators," Piper grumbled, crossing the room for the first aid kit. "Let me take care of that lip."
"It also means that I'll be spending a lot of time away from home."
Piper turned back, frowning. Patrick languidly dressed, seemingly not paying attention to his two mates.
"Piper and I can fly out to watch the games," Baxter said.
"Well, you can at least. I've got a plane ticket for you to come visit me over there for a couple of weeks. We can look at hotel rooms when we get back to the apartment."
Piper pressed her lips together. Baxter got tickets, but she didn't? She tried not to be jealous–after all, Baxter hadn't been able to find a new job just yet, so he was available to go gallivanting off to British Columbia to see the games. She wasn't. At least not yet.
She cleared her throat. "I could take some time off at the gallery, you know. We're doing so well, I thought I could get an assistant or something that could keep an eye on things while I went to see your out-of-province games."
Patrick shook his head. "That's sweet of you, Piper, but I know you only come to these games because you feel obligated to. It's fine."
"No, I like hockey a lot more now!" Piper bounced on her toes. "I love watching you play."
"I think you like playing after he plays." Baxter laughed.
Piper wrinkled her nose at him. "No, I've come to really enjoy watching hockey. I think I like the blood a lot more than I used to."
Patrick burst into laughter. He laughed so hard and for so long that he had to sit down. Piper folded her arms, narrowing her eyes at him to show she wasn't amused, although his full-bellied laughs were hard not to join with.
"You are too easy to tease," he said, finally catching his breath. "I've got tickets for you, too. And an assistant sounds like the perfect thing for you."
He strode over to her, hands clasping over her hips. He lifted her with more ease than she thought was possible; she was always amazed when he lifted her. Baxter was soon by his side and Patrick settled the witch onto both of their shoulders. Piper held one of Patrick's and one of Baxter's hands.
"I am so lucky to have you two," Patrick sighed.
Piper laughed. "I think I'm the lucky one!"
"Nope, it's me."
Patrick growled playfully as they exited the locker room. "We're all lucky. How about we agree to that?"
"Agreed," Piper and Baxter said in unison.
Piper squeezed her mates' hands, smiling, feeling so happy she thought her heart might burst.
*****
THE END
Bonus Book 36: The Shifting Billionaire's Bride
By: Eliza Moon
Description
An event planner with a lonely heart PLUS a billionaire alpha too hot to touch PLUS a dark secret burried in the past!
When you have been burned in love too many times to count, you eventually make a promise to yourself that you will never let yourself be hurt again. Next time you will be more careful. You will protect your heart with everything you have, just to keep it from getting broken again.
Melissa Cleary was one of the many women around the world that had made this promise to herself. For years she kept this promise, never letting herself get close enough to the fire to get burned. That is, until she met Clayton Masters.
Somehow Clayton charged through all the barriers, even the ones he had created for himself. The only problem was that Clayton had a secret. A secret that could kill someone if they got too close. Clayton has distanced himself from the opposite sex, not to spare his own heart, but to keep them from meeting the same fate as his mother.
Without realizing what is happening the two of them find themselves, not only close enough to the fire to be burned, but standing inside of the burning flames. Will the fire they ignite in each other consume them in love or will their hearts be burned to ash?
Chapter One
Melissa stood in the corner of the banquet hall watching her catering event unfold. She kept a constant eye on the food levels, monitored the servers and listened intently to the voices of her prep cooks and chef in her earpiece, as they updated her on what was going on in the kitchen. She scanned the room, not a thing was out of place, everything was perfect.
This is why I am one of the most sought after event planners in The Valley. She smiled proudly. Then something caught her eye. One of the women hanging off of the event benefactor’s arm was waving her over. Melissa made her way over to the small group, offering an obligated smile to the other guests as she passed by.
“How can I help you today, Miss?” Melissa lifted her chin and straightened her back. She kept a smile on her face in spite of the fact that these rich, superficial women made her guts whirl. The tall, dark featured one looked down her nose at her, plastering on the fakest smile of the century.
“Yes, I was just curious as to whether you were the event planner or not?” The woman spoke down to her in a fake Brazilian accent.
“Yes, Miss, I am the event planner.”
The woman laughed a loud obnoxious laugh, joined in by a chorus of giggles from the other women in the group. Melissa
ignored their judgemental laughter and smiled in spite of her loathing. She squared her shoulders and glowered at the fake Brazilian woman.
“I told you, Louisa,” one of the women said, “If you want to find the event planner, just look for the pathetic, chunky blob standing alone in the corner creeping on everyone.”
Another wave of giggles started among the woman and her friends.
Melissa ran her tongue over her top teeth and folded her hands neatly in front of her. She looked up at the man that was surrounded by these materialistic wenches. His face was composed, as if he wasn’t listening to a single word the women on his arms were saying. He just watched her. He was studying her reactions to the snide remarks of the women around her. All the more reason to keep her cool.
“I’m sorry, Miss, was there something that I can help you with?” Melissa bit back a string of curse words. Louisa smiled sweetly at her.
“Yes, I had a question,” Louisa looked around at the other women before continuing.
“I just wanted to say that the halibut was way over-cooked. You need to find a new cook.”
Melissa could hear the low snickers of the women behind her. She let out a long sigh and looked Louisa straight in the eyes.
“Well, I am sorry to hear that, but we served salmon tonight, not halibut. Second, I’m not sure it really matters how well your food is cooked since the toilet eats it for you.” Melissa clenched her jaw tightly and gave a short nod.
“But, thank you for your input. I will let the cook know.” She gave a satisfied smile and looked at each of their faces.
“Was that all you needed?”
The women around her all had grave expressions on their pretty little faces. Louisa was looking up at the benefactor, pleading for support, but he gave none. He continued to stare at Melissa with a stern expression on his face, but Melissa swore she could see laughter dancing around in his honey colored eyes.
When there was no response from the group of women, Melissa gave an over-exaggerated smile and turned to leave. She made her way over to the bar and let out a sigh as she leaned, ever so slightly, against the wall. The kitchen staff had just given her a five-minute ETA on the desserts. The bartender took one look at Melissa and laughed.