by T. S. Ryder
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 frustration 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
Taken by Two Hockey Dragons
Description
A curvy lawyer with a secret crush PLUS a hot hockey star who is a Dragon Shifter PLUS his sexy buddy who is need of a mate!
Michelle Handsworth loves to flirt with her famous hockey playing client Cain Samson. With his blond hair and blue eyes, Cain is the handsomest man she has ever met, but innocent flirting is as far as they could go. As his attorney, nothing can ever happen between the two of them.
At least, that is the excuse Michelle gives every time Cain asks her out, but it isn’t the whole truth. The real reason Michelle is determined to keep distance between her and Cain is because she can sense a dark and strong magic within him.
Michelle isn’t just a fantastic lawyer, she’s also a witch who can sense people’s auras. She’s always been able to do it and over the years she’s learned to trust her abilities when they give her a warning. Cain’s aura, with its flickering yellows and reds and constant smell of smoke, is a huge warning.
Michelle thought Cain would be OK with her dating his best friend, Brock Thaddeus, but she’s dangerously wrong. Cain is no normal hockey star, he’s a Dragon Shifter.
When Michelle chooses another man over him, will Cain be able to control the dragon within him, or will fire consume them all?
Chapter One
He was late. He was always late. Michelle glanced up at her clock and shook her head. She was used to this kind of nonsense from her clients. As an attorney specializing in contract law, sports stars with huge egos were just a normal part of her day.
Cain Samson liked to breeze into his meetings twenty minutes late. He was huge, six-foot-five and pure muscle. His clear blue eyes were set on either side of a crooked nose that had been broken more times than he could count. He had long blond hair always falling into his eyes.
As if she had called him, Cain appeared at reception with his entourage in tow. Cain was one of the best hockey players in the world. He had three Stanley Cup championships under his belt and had been the captain of the gold-winning U.S. Olympic Hockey Team. He was, by far, her most famous client and the cocky grin he always wore told her he knew it.
His contract was sitting in front of her dotted with post-its and sign-here stickers. It was seventy pages of confusing legal jargon interspersed with huge amounts of money. Millions of dollars were being handled on these pages and it was Michelle’s job to make sure Cain saw every cent he was owed.
She ran her hand through her curly dark hair and quickly touched up her lipstick. Nothing could ever happen between her and Cain. He was her client, having a relationship with him would have been unethical and illegal. It could get her disbarred. Still, she wanted to look good. Flirting with Cain was one of the perks of her job.
Outside of the glass walls of her private office, the law firm was buzzing at the news of Cain’s arrival. Through the clear walls, she could see the receptionist, an older woman in her fifties who rarely moved, stand up and offer to walk Cain back to Michelle’s office.
There it was, that roguish smile that
made all the girls, Michelle included, weak in the knees. He flashed it at the receptionist who giggled and tucked her hair behind her ear. He waved at her to sit down, indicating he didn’t need to be shown where to go. Cain knew where Michelle’s office was, he had been here plenty of times. As he strode past reception, the men of his entourage sat in the waiting area, propping their feet up on the coffee tables and pulling out their cell phones.
“Hello, Cain,” Michelle said as he pushed open her door. “How are you today?”
“Better now that I’ve seen that beautiful face of yours,” he countered. His voice was low and deep. Like a roll of thunder.
“I imagine this multi-million-dollar contract in front of me has also made your day better,” she said, determined to remain professional.
“That’s just a bonus, getting to see you is the real prize,” he stared straight at her when he said things like that. Sitting down in a chair across from her, he pressed his fingertips together and looked at her above them. He was so handsome it was almost unfair. If there had been any justice in the world, his handsomeness would have been diluted over several men, not all contained in this creature in front of her.
Creature was the right word. It wasn’t just that Cain was a wildly successful hockey player or that he was fabulously rich and handsome. The real thing that kept Michele away from him was hidden from normal eyes.
Cain was something else. She had known it from the first time he had pulled into the firm’s parking lot. The day of their first meeting she sensed him before she saw him. As the car pulled up to the firm, the hairs at the back of her neck tingled and she could smell smoke. No one else could smell it, though. They didn’t have the gift that she had. To everyone else Cain Samson was just a normal human, albeit one in great shape.
Everything that lived had an aura about it and each aura was different. Her mother, for instance, had a ring of yellow light that radiated off of her. It was calm and warm and soothing. Unless she was mad, then her mother’s aura was red and angry, lashing out at the other auras around her. The plants were surrounded with a pale green light, dogs had a bright white light that shone out from them.