The Vampire Prince’s Bride

by T. S. Ryder

  After phoning Baxter so he wouldn’t worry, Piper went to a bar. Somewhere in her brain she knew this was a bad idea, knew she couldn't afford to get drunk at this time–both literally and metaphorically–but she didn't care. She just didn't want to think.

  But she did think.

  After one beer she thought, I bet Thor Wragge was behind this somehow. He got tired of trying to bully me out and decided to destroy my life instead.

  After two beers, I turned on that security system. He must have learned the codes and turned it off. He was spying on me that whole time. That's how he knew to take my mother's painting.

  After three beers, He probably bribed the people at the security place. He found out exactly how to stop it from engaging and broke in the night before to put a paperclip or something in it so it wouldn't engage when I turned the system on. That's what he did.

  Four. And then he waited until nighttime when nobody was around and broke in.

  Five. He destroyed everything. Oh, god, what am I going to do now? How can I get out of this? Can I declare bankruptcy? Will my debts just transfer over to Baxter?

  Six. Bastard! I hate him. It's not like I was any real competition to him anyway!

  Seven. I'm going to make him pay.

  It was very late by this time, but as Piper left the bar she didn't seem to feel the cold. She also seemed to be full of energy and walked to where she knew Wragge lived. He lived in the pretty suburbs with their trees and Christmas decorations still up. She walked true and strong, although some stupid assholes occasionally drove on the sidewalk.

  Once she reached Wragge's house, she was at a loss. If I had eggs, I'd have something to do to him. Wait a minute. I have magic!

  It took a moment for her to remember the spell, then waved her hand above the space over his house, creating two large neon signs that brightened the whole street. Vandal, the signs flashed, thief.

  Piper giggled, enjoying the buzz of alcohol in her brain. She painted a scene with her magic, Thor Wragge naked with a stupid look on his face. She made sure to give him a teeny tiny member. Then she painted flames all around him, crackling and seething. Go to hell.

  Wragge stormed out of his house, tying a robe. He scowled at the sight of her. Piper drew her hands back.

  "Loqui quasi hedum!" she shouted, pointing all her fingers at the enraged man. A bolt of green light shot from her hands and struck Wragge's throat.

  He stumbled back, eyes going wide, clawing at his neck. He opened his mouth— "Baa!"

  Piper laughed. She quickly added donkey ears and a curly pig tail. "Act like an animal, become an animal!" she shouted. "Act like an animal, become an animal! Act like an animal, become an animal! Go to hell, Wragge!"

  Chapter Seven

  Wragge was pressing charges this time. Vandalism and magical assault.

  Fortunately, Piper was let out on bail, as long as she promised that she wasn't going to drink a drop of alcohol and that Baxter wasn't going to leave her alone. It would mean having to go to work with him until after her sentencing, but Piper supposed that was probably the best thing to happen, anyway.

  It wasn't like she had anything else to do.

  Both Patrick and Baxter came to the jail to pay the bond. Piper stared at her feet as they escorted her back to Patrick's shiny car. She could feel the disappointment rolling off her male, but Patrick seemed rather calm about the whole thing.

  "My lawyers are working on your case," he said as he drove them towards their home. "I'm sure they can get the sentence down to malicious magical pranking, rather than assault. They're very good. If you keep your nose clean from now on, they've assured me that you'll just have to do some community service."

  Piper slumped down, folding her arms, and frowned out the window. "Until they give me a fine I can't pay, then they're going to lock me up for the rest of my life."

  "You don't go to jail for life over something like this," Patrick reached to pat her knee and she pulled away from him.

  "Don't touch me!"

  A hurt look briefly flashed into Patrick's eyes and he withdrew.

  Baxter leaned between the two seats. "Piper doesn't like to be touched or reassured when she's in a funk. It's better to just let her ride it out."

  "Really?" Patrick's brows furrowed.

  "Yeah. It's my nature to try to make people feel better. But she'll bite off your head for it until she's ready."

  "She is sitting right here," Piper snapped. "I want to walk home."

  The Werewolves ignored her, although they stopped discussing her surly flaws, which was a plus.

  Piper glared out of the window, certain that everybody was stopping and staring at her, knowing what had happened. Uphoria wasn't small enough that everybody knew everybody, but Piper's family was from the town and both sets of grandparents were also born in Uphoria, so a lot of people did know her and would be talking about this.

  She wondered, suddenly, how many of them would blame her relationship with a Werewolf for her lack of self-control. Her hands curled as she imagined what they would be saying about Baxter because of this and she wanted to jump out of the car and dare them all to fight her.

  Probably not the best thing to do.

  When they got home, Piper went to the bedroom and closed herself in the closet. It was dark and roomy, perfect for hiding away in. She heard Baxter and Patrick's voices murmuring from the kitchen but was able to focus on her own thoughts.

  Did she regret going after Wragge the way she had? Yes. It had been stupid, impulsive and now had her in even more trouble than before. But she was still certain that he had something to do with all this. How was she supposed to prove it?

  Or was it better to just keep her head down and figure a way out of her financial mess instead of focusing on revenge?

  The thought made Piper sigh, but now that she was in her safe spot in the closet, she knew that it was the right thing to do. Trying to get Wragge back would only hurt her in the long run. She was already in a hole, there was no point in trying to dig it deeper. And she did have art she could auction to pay off her debts.

  It had been her mother's collection and thinking of selling it was like a knife to the heart, but Piper knew she had to. Her mother had collected a lot of rare, expensive pieces. Most of it was worth at least triple now than when they had been purchased.

  It would be enough to pay off Piper's debts.

  But she'd lose everything her mother left her.

  Her dream of a gallery was over. None of the artists she'd been working with would want to trust her again after all the work they gave her to sell was destroyed like that. She was finished.

  Heart-heavy but mind made up, Piper dried her eyes and went out to the kitchen. Both Werewolves were waiting for her and Patrick retrieved a slice of blueberry cheesecake, her favorite, from the fridge and passed it to her. The sweet, creamy texture on her tongue felt good and bolstered her courage enough to tell the two what she had decided.

  "No," Baxter said instantly, shaking his head. "I've already been talking to your dad about it and he's agreed it's probably best we get away from here. We can sell the house, that will certainly make a dent in your debts and then you don't have to sell all of your mother's collection."

  "And then we go live with my dad?" Piper sighed. "It's not feasible."

  "We can move to the city. Get a fresh start."

  "You hate the city."

  Baxter shrugged. "I'm not too fond of Uphoria right now, either. We'll go for one or two years until this whole scandal blows over. Besides, you'll be able to get a gallery going there and you'll have more customers."

  Piper smiled, grateful that he would be willing to give up his home for her happiness, but she couldn’t do that to him. He had a job he loved, friends who accepted him as a Werewolf and both of those things were hard to find, even in Uphoria where a good quarter of the population were Werewolves.

  "No. It's time for me to grow up."

  "In that case, I am going to give yo
u a loan," Patrick said. "We'll set up bimonthly payments that will have it paid back in five years."

  Piper stared at him, her jaw dropping open. "Excuse me?"

  "And I'll finance a new gallery for you. But in the city. Like Baxter said, it'll be far more profitable there. I have many wealthy friends with a taste for fine art, and you have a good eye. How long will you need before having a gala opening?"

  Piper shot up, knocking her chair over. "No!"

  Patrick's brows furrowed. "No?"

  "No! No, I can't accept this. You're just doing this because you want us for your trois amour and I'm sorry but I won't let myself be bought like this!"

  Baxter gasped and Patrick's eyes narrowed. He slowly stood and once more Piper was reminded that every inch of his height was pure muscle. They bunched together as he tensed, jaw grinding together.

  Piper glared right back at him, not letting herself be intimidated into submission. She was not going to let him convince her to enter a lifelong three-way relationship just because he was rich!

  "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 possessive 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.