by T. S. Ryder
"If I was trying to buy you, Ms. Diamond, I would have gotten you a fancy car and more jewelry than you could wear in a lifetime. This is no more than what I do for any friend of mine, give them a leg up when they need it, but expect accountability in return. And your gallery is a business venture. One that I think could be very successful. I'm not just going to give you the property and the money you need to collect the art, it's an investment that I damn well expect returns from."
Piper's face heated and she had no idea how to respond to him. Every word rang with the truth and she felt herself shrinking into herself, ashamed for the accusation she had made. As she opened her mouth to apologize, Patrick stormed out of the house.
Silence hung heavy in the air. Piper slumped back into her chair and hid her face in her arms. Her eyes filled with tears. Eventually, Baxter's fingers brushed hers, cautiously testing if she was safe to comfort. She flipped over her hand and pressed her palm against his.
"I always ruin everything," she whispered.
"No. Not everything."
Piper gave him a watery glare.
"Look, I think accepting Patrick's help is the right thing to do. I know it's hard for you to not do things all on your own, but in this case, we do need help. We can still sell the house and pay back as much as we can with that, but your mom's collection is too important for you to sell."
He stroked some blue hair away from her face. Piper leaned into his touch.
"Would he be doing all this if he didn't want us?"
"I don't know. But you have to understand, for Werewolves, the bond between mates is instant, even before mating. We know exactly who is going to make us happy and from that moment on, our goal is to be with that person. That bond can be broken, but it's not easy. Patrick feels that bond with the two of us, and I feel the bond with him."
Piper's lip wobbled. "What should I do?"
Baxter looked at their hands for a moment. "You need to make your decision. Are you or are you not going to accept the trois amour? I'm sorry and I know it frightens you, but we need to know before the bond gets any stronger. It's going to hurt bad enough if we have to break it."
Chapter Eight
Piper held the box of dishes shut while her father taped it. Even though everything else was already in boxes, somehow the dishes being packed away made everything final. She and Baxter were leaving Uphoria.
They had found a small apartment to rent near the new gallery, a nice big building with lots of space to be creative with. The house had also sold quickly, although in the end they had taken twenty thousand less than what they were hoping for. But both had agreed that getting away from the town as soon as possible was the best thing to do and now that her community service for hexing Wragge was up, they could finally go.
"Have you made a decision about this whole Werewolf threesome thing?" Piper’s father asked, straightening.
"She's not allowed to say," Baxter said quickly, stepping in to pick up the box.
Her father turned a raised brow on her.
"Patrick doesn't want to know until after the gala. He says it's easier to do business that way," Piper glanced around her empty home and sighed, waiting until Baxter had left the room before she spoke again. "I have made my choice, though."
"What are you going to do?"
Piper shook her head. "I'm not going to tell you yet. I think Baxter and Patrick have the right to learn first. But it's the right choice."
Her father stared at her hard for a few minutes then nodded. "I just don't like this deadline thing."
"It's fine, Dad."
"Not if you're rushing into something you'll end up regretting, Little Bug. You've gone through a lot these past couple months, I don't want to see you get hurt."
Piper smiled at the tender childhood nickname. "You won't, Dad. I promise."
***
It was only a week later that the gallery's opening gala took place. Spring had arrived suddenly to the world, bringing bright, hot sunshine with it. It seemed like the day after the snow melted Piper was already walking around in shorts and a T-shirt. With it being so warm outside and so many people inside the gallery for the gala, they had had to turn on the air conditioning.
Piper surveyed the scene, basking in happiness. Patrick had indeed invited many of his wealthy friends and business associates. Everywhere she looked, finely crafted silk suits and satin dresses were paired with twinkling jewels of every color imaginable. Waiters in white suit coats handed out glasses of champagne or small, tasty hors d'oeuvres.
"What did I say?"
Patrick's voice made her jump. She turned to him, smiling. "What did you say about what?"
"All this." His eyes twinkled.
"You're right about everything. I've never had so many compliments on my work before and I think we've made at least a hundred thousand just on people making me promise to paint portraits of their pets. And the dress is amazing."
She gestured at the strapless number she wore, covered in blue lace that hugged her every curve. She especially loved the sweetheart neckline–it made her breasts look huge.
"I have to say, Baxter's silent auction idea was good, too," Patrick said, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm. "Your landscapes are very popular."
"I don't paint landscapes. It's abstract."
Patrick wrinkled his nose. "They look like landscapes to me."
Piper was about to reply when she saw a most unwelcome sight. Her hand clenched tight around her champagne glass. Her eyes narrowed and her lip curled.
Thor Wragge.
Here, of all nights. The only consolation was that his suit didn't look so fashionable in this crowd and he was clearly ill at ease.
She marched towards him, but Baxter got there first and Patrick quickly pressed her into conversation with a nearby elderly woman before marching over to join them. From the way the three men were holding themselves, it was clearly a tense conversation. Piper wondered how long it would take for Wragge to get the message and leave.
The elderly woman was just asking her if she'd paint something for her grandson's birthday when a roar silenced everybody. All heads turned just in time to see Patrick sinking his fist into Wragge's stomach. Baxter grabbed the other Werewolf, pulling him back as Wragge gasped and wheezed.
Piper's eyes widened and she stared in shock. What was this all about?
Wragge's breathless voice carried through the hall. "She's a goddamned gold-digging whore!"
Baxter froze. Then both he and Patrick lunged.
***
"It's a switch from you two getting me out of jail at least," Piper said later, unlocking the door to her and Baxter's new apartment. The two Werewolves followed her in sheepishly.
"He had no right to say those things about you," Patrick said. "And he deliberately provoked us. He wasn't even on the invitation list!"
Piper took their tuxedo jackets, her heart pounding in her chest. She had been waiting for two months for this night, not only because of the gallery gala but also what she knew was going to happen after it. The incident with Wragge had interrupted things, but she was ready to put him behind her. Whatever he was after, he wasn't going to get it.
"I'd like to tear his head off," Patrick continued, growling.
"Forget about him."
Baxter snorted. "That's you saying that?"
Piper folded her arms. "Do you guys want to hear my decision or not?"
Both Werewolves stiffened. Baxter straightened, his eyes wide and eager, while Patrick's hands clenched into his pants, his knuckles going white. Piper couldn't help but feel sorry for him. She had been planning on dragging it out just a little longer, just to torture him, but found she didn't want to.
"Yes."
Patrick jerked like he had been electrocuted. He was on his feet in an instant, eyes bright, a smile blossoming over his face. "Yes?"
Piper nodded.
He crushed her to his chest, bringing his mouth to hers hard. There was something possessiv
e about the way he thrust his tongue into her willing mouth, something territorial, as though he was claiming her as his own.
It was so erotic she felt herself growing damp just from that one kiss. Her arousal increased as Baxter joined them, trading kisses between her and Patrick's neck, moving constantly as though he would never be sated. Piper felt a tug inside her and she met the Werewolves' fervor with her own, hurriedly reaching for Patrick's belt.
Baxter stood behind the other Werewolf, caressing his body and slowly undressing him as Piper got to her knees. Patrick moaned but shook his head.
"Tonight we focus on Piper," he said in a strangled voice. "Tomorrow is Baxter. The next day is me."
Baxter switched gears instantly, moving behind Piper. He brought her to her feet and both of her men focused on her neck, one on either side. She moaned in delight, loving the feeling of being squashed between their firm, sexy bodies. Hands were everywhere and Piper could feel both of them aroused as they ground at her through their clothes.
"Wait, wait," she gasped.
Her men stopped, though they remained sandwiched together.
"I've got condoms and lubricant in the bedroom nightstand," she whispered. "And there's the bed…"
Patrick lifted her into his arms and all but ran into the bedroom, easing her onto the bed before stepping back to look at her. He looked so gorgeous, standing there with that gleam in his eye and Piper grinned at him.
With a groan he fell over her, pushing her expensive dress up to her waist and hooking his fingers under her underwear. His touch was inexperienced but made up for that in his eagerness.
She found him with her hand, answering his energy with her own. They rolled so they faced each other on their sides and Baxter laid behind Piper, naked himself, undressing her. Two sets of lips worshiped her body and heat flooded her senses. Piper stared into Patrick's wide, dilated pupils as he slipped on a condom and claimed her as his mate.
A cry of pleasure burst from her mouth and Patrick froze. Baxter's hands were on her ass at this time, lubricating and preparing her and he chuckled.
"She's a screamer," he told the other Werewolf.
Piper thrust her hips forward. "Don't stop."
Patrick's eyes were wide and he bit his lip, looking uncertain for the first time. "I didn't hurt you?"
Piper shook her head. "It feels wonderful."
"It does." Patrick moaned, beginning to move his hips and he buried his face into her neck. "It feels so good."
Piper was not prepared for the pleasure that flooded her as both her men concentrated on her, entering her from both sides, hands and mouths roaming her body. As they brought her closer and closer to that heavenly ocean of pleasure flooding her body, she clung to Patrick, thanking God that Baxter had made her go to that hockey game all those months ago.
Chapter Nine
Two nights later, the three of them were in bed when a loud, shrill beeping from Piper's cell phone interrupted them. Her heart was instantly in her throat and she scrambled for her clothes.
"It's the gallery!" she shouted, dressing as fast as she could.
Patrick and Baxter jumped out of bed as well. They were quicker than Piper and she was still pulling on her shoes when Patrick carried her out to the car. Her fingers drummed against the window, anxious. It was all she could do to not scream at Baxter to go faster.
"At least we know the security system works," Patrick said, but it did little to lighten the mood.
The police were already there when the trip arrived. Lights flashed blue and red and Piper's eyes instantly found the gasoline can sitting beside one of the cruisers. She gasped. As her heart beat faster, she reminded herself that the building was still standing and no obvious damage was apparent.
The Werewolves flanked her as she sought out the officer in charge, a tall athletic man with broad shoulders and a permanent scowl etched between his eyes. It was the same officer that had arrested Patrick and Baxter during the incident at the Gala and Piper had to repress a scowl of her own.
The officer's frown deepened when he saw the three of them, but nodded politely in greeting. "It looks like you three are very unpopular. We caught somebody trying to burn down the building. You're lucky you've got such a good security system in place, otherwise we might not have gotten here in time."
"Was there any property damage?" Patrick asked, all business.
"You've got some gasoline splashed around the entrance you'll want to clean up, but that's all."
Piper sighed in relief. Finally, they were going to be at the bottom of this! And finally, Wragge is going to get what's coming to him! "So who was it?"
"A woman by the name of Kristal Clarkson. You know her?"
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."