The Billionaire Werewolf's Princess

“Perfect.” Kristine typed as they conversed. Multitasking, as usual. Something Ry appreciated but could never manage himself. “It’s morning in the States. I’ll give them a ring in another hour.”

“You don’t have to stay late, Kristine.”

“You know I don’t mind. And I want to finalize the donations for the upcoming charity ball. You know the full moon is this weekend? You heading out to your castle?”

“I, uh...” Ry winced as he considered that this full moon would be different from the previous one. He had a new commitment that wouldn’t allow him to leave the city. To escape from the possibility of being seen in his shifted form. “I don’t think I can.”

“You can’t stay in the city. Not unless you hook up with that new girl fast. And by fast I mean in the three days before the weekend. Don’t you need to have sex before the full moon to keep the werewolf at bay? You up for that challenge?”

“Always.” He cast her a charming smirk. “But I don’t think I’ll see her again. She ran out on me so quickly. I do have some solutions available.”

“Uh-huh. But even if you do find a woman to have sex with the day before and after the full moon, there’s still the night of the full one, mon cher. Don’t you need to wolf out no matter what?”

“That I do.”

“Maybe FaeryTown can go one night without you.”

“If I miss one night of patrol, then a baby could be stolen from his or her crib, never to be seen again. Do you think that’s fair for me to put my needs before one so innocent?”

“But you’ll wolf out during the full moon. In Paris.”

“That’s something I’m going to have to deal with. I don’t see any other option, Kristine. Text me the appointment after you’ve talked with Severo. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”

He left the office in the wake of an unenthusiastic “sure” from his secretary. He knew she was right. She knew she was right. A werewolf shouldn’t risk staying in a populated city on the night he was called by the moon to shift to his half-man/half-wolf shape. And while he wasn’t a wild and crazy beast intent on destroying or maiming humans in that shape, he didn’t need to be seen loping about the Parisian streets with tail wagging and tongue lolling. That was inviting trouble for him and every other werewolf who needed to remain a myth to all humans.

Yet if he went to his private property in the countryside, as he did every night of the full moon, then FaeryTown would be left unguarded for the collectors to come through.

As he strode down the sidewalk and angled for his parked Alfa Romeo, Ry wished the choice was easier. But then, nothing good ever came easily.

* * *

Indi slept until three o’clock the next afternoon. She decided to mark it off as the worst night of her life. Getting dumped, being chased by a creature and then being sort-of kidnapped by a man she didn’t know.

But it was the memory of that mystery man that compelled her this afternoon. Pouring herself a cup of coffee, then dousing it with creamer, she curled up on the couch, wrapped a light summer blanket about her bare shoulders and pulled the laptop up to browse online.

“Ryland James,” she said as she typed in his name.

Not expecting to find anything more than a Facebook page, she was surprised when the first page of Google spilled down a whole list of hits. And the image bar featured some paparazzi shots of the man wearing either a tux or a well-tailored business suit, and in all of them he was either facing away from the camera or had his hand up to block his face.

She clicked on the first entry posted by a dishy entertainment channel. A photo showing Ryland James leaving what looked like a nightclub with a hand blocking his face was captioned Parisian Billionaire Camera-Shy.

“Billionaire?” she whispered. “What have you stumbled onto, Indi?”

She scanned the article and it mentioned that Ryland James was a philanthropist who gave away billions but was noted as media-shy, and while he was occasionally seen with a date, no woman could ever be pinned to him as a long-term relationship. He was always the talk of the party when he arrived, and socialites listed him as their BILF—B standing for billionaire—on their social media pages.

“I was rescued by a billionaire?” She couldn’t help the incredulous tone. But at the same time... “Why have I never heard of him before?”

She was a socialite. She participated in all social media and liked to know who was who and what they were doing with whom and for how long. Of course, she’d never followed the philanthropy hashtag before. As a trust-fund baby, she’d grown up, admittedly, with a silver spoon in her mouth. But now that she was on her own, she was perfectly happy to create her own riches. And was doing a great job at it.

And yet.

“Why would a billionaire be out in the middle of the night wielding a sword and chasing weird monsters?”

Because that was what she’d witnessed. Much as she didn’t want anyone to hear her say it out loud, she had seen exactly that. Monsters. Big, black, sparkly monsters that had sort of faded out in a long wispy tail of darkness. And a tall, muscled, handsome man who had swung a sword like a Viking marauder.

“And I woke up under his coffee table. If only I had known he was rich, I would have stayed for breakfast. Ha!”

No, she wasn’t the gold-digging type. Generally, a man’s checkbook did not influence his attractiveness. And hadn’t she given up on rich, self-involved men because of the extremely humiliating dumpage from Todd?

“For sure. No more rich businessmen.”

Scanning through a few articles on him, she didn’t learn much more, other than that he had been wooed by major modeling agencies and had refused contracts from all of them. Was known for driving a black Alfa Romeo down the Champs-Élysées at top speed. And could be rude to reporters when they pushed him for information. A rumor that he’d once dated Lady Gaga could not be confirmed. However, according to a tabloid, they had been in the same New York concert hall on the same night and both had left in the same limo.

Teasing her tongue along her upper lip, Indi double-clicked on the one photo that showed his face. The man was so freaking gorgeous. He wore his long dark brown hair loose, yet in other pictures it was pulled back behind his head. Always, the shirts he wore strained across strapping biceps and pecs. And the mustache and trimmed beard framed some seriously kissable lips.

“Billionaire or not, I most certainly need to thank him. And ask him the burning questions. Today. I do remember where he lives.”

Now to figure out what to wear when thanking a man for saving her life, while also wanting to enhance her assets without looking desperate. But she had just been dumped. She really should go into mourning for a bit.

“He’s not worth it,” she muttered, dismissing Todd with the breezy apathy she should have had the other night. But if she hadn’t been so distraught she would never have had a few too many drinks and wandered the streets, and she would never have run into Monsieur Sexy Billionaire.

“Not chasing after another rich man,” she said, confirming her drunken decision to forgo them. “But I do need some answers.”

Grabbing her half-empty coffee mug and heading down the hall to her bedroom, Indi tore off her robe and entered her closet to stand naked, perusing the possibilities. She owned a lot of clothes, and she wouldn’t apologize for the extravagance. Shopping was in her blood. Her closet had always been bigger than her bedroom since she could remember, even from when she was a toddler. Dressing up made her happy, just as wearing cat ears gave her confidence. Besides, her job required she seek out vintage, and off-season, designer clothing. If she happened on the perfect item of clothing for herself, she would never deny that want.

She touched the red dress. “Too aggressive.” And it was the one Todd had always asked her to wear. “Never going to wear that dress again.” It was Betsey Johnson. She’d gotten it off the rack during a discards sale. “I’ll make a few adjustments to it, then sell it on the site.” She pulled out the pink lace number. “Too summer-wedding.” A white pantsuit with navy pinstripes was what she called her power suit. “Too businessy.”

The blue sundress with a fitted bodice and full skirt would look great with some rhinestone heels.

“Or some stop-him-dead-in-his-tracks gladiator sandals.”

Decided, Indi went about getting on her A-game.

An hour later, she stood before the door to Ryland James’s apartment. At least, she hoped it was his place. When she’d fled the other morning, she was pretty sure she’d walked down four flights of stairs. This was the only apartment on the fourth floor.

She knocked and someone called out from the other side of the door to “hold on.”

Primping, she quickly pushed up the girls. A lather of her pistachio-almond moisturizer over her décolletage, and some soft heather eye shadow along with pale lips, had given her a summery look. She liked to wear her hair pulled up, and today she’d gone with a bouncy ponytail high at the back of her head, with long strands teased out to frame her face.

Why she was nervous was beyond her. It wasn’t as though she intended to throw herself at the man. She was getting over a breakup. And she didn’t do rebound guys. That was crazy waiting to happen. But she did have good reason to return to his place today. And that reason was what made her anxious.

The door opened to reveal a man a good foot taller than her, wearing loose jeans that hung low on his hips to reveal gorgeous cut muscles that veed toward his crotch. He wore no shirt, so she followed those ridges upward, over abs of steel and pecs that might have been formed from stone. Indi finally met the man’s piercing brown gaze. His smile beamed.

And she lost all means of rational communication.

* * *

The prettiest pair of blue eyes gazed up at him. Blue? Maybe more like blue violet. They emulated jewels, for sure. For a few seconds Ry forgot his name. Not that he needed to know his name. A guy should remember a thing like that. But...ah, hell, what was going on in his brain?

“Princess,” he said. “Minus the pussycat ears. I didn’t expect to see you again.”

“Oh.” She looked aside.

He immediately picked up on her sullen expression. “But I’m happy to. I just wasn’t sure you’d remember, uh...things.”

She shrugged and offered him a straight smile. “I remember more than I probably want to. And I remembered where you live. I hope you don’t mind that I stopped by. I wanted to talk to you, and I didn’t have a phone number, so...”

“I’m glad you stopped by. Come in. I was warming up some nachos in the oven. You hungry?”

“I, uh...maybe? If I’m interrupting your meal—”

“Not at all. I left work early today and felt like bumming around home, catching up on some reading for business projects. Come in.” He grabbed his T-shirt from the back of a chair and pulled it on. “Have a seat on the sofa. Uh, unless you prefer under the coffee table?”

She gaped at him, then shook her head and nodded a grinning acknowledgment to the dig.

Ry took in her gorgeous pale skin, which was exposed from shoulder to neck to cleavage, and then her pretty knees and down to those very sexy sandals that wrapped thin leather straps up to her knees. Up along the soft blue dress. Her breasts rose from the low-cut top in a sensual yet not-too-blatant invitation. And he couldn’t stop looking at her mouth, pursed and the palest pink. And were those lashes for real? So thick and black and...

She paused and looked over the coffee table. Offering him a smirking grin, she sat on the sofa. “I can’t believe I slept under your table.”

“Me, either. Couldn’t have been too comfy. You look like you’re feeling one hundred percent better,” he said as he wandered into the kitchen to peek into the oven. Another ten minutes and the cheese would be melted. “How are you feeling?”

She turned and looked over the back of the sofa. “Good. Not quite a hundred percent. Still a bit tired. I guess I went on a crazy bender. Slept on my floor when I got home, too. Apparently, when drunk, I’m a floor sleeper.”

“Does that happen often?”

“The drunk?” Her laugh was soft but she waved off the levity with a gesture. “Not usually. But champagne goes straight to my head. I shouldn’t have had that fifth goblet.”

Ry whistled and wandered over to sit on the arm of the couch. “Believe it or not, wine is my bête noire. I can’t handle the vino.”

“Really? A big guy like you? It must take quite a few bottles to get you wasted.”

“Try one glass. I’m not sure what it is, but it lays me flat. And I can drink vodka and whiskey like it’s juice. Weird.”

He didn’t normally reveal himself so boldly like that, but he’d sensed her need for reassurance. The woman had lain under his coffee table all night.

“You must have thought I was a case,” she said. “And when I got a look at what I looked like when I got home? I can’t believe you didn’t think I was a homeless person.”

“Wearing a designer gown and diamonds? The homeless are never so stylish.”

She laughed. “Yeah, I guess. But they weren’t diamonds. I never go for the splash when rhinestones will do.” She leaned an elbow on the back of the sofa and pulled up a knee, catching it with a palm. “I needed to come see you because I don’t think I ever thanked you. You were so kind to make sure I didn’t lie abandoned in some dark alleyway. I can’t imagine what would have happened to me if you’d walked away. So, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’m not much for leaving a helpless woman in a dangerous situation. I hope you weren’t too freaked to wake here in the morning.”

“I was, but that’s to be expected. And speaking of dangerous situations, I do have questions.”

This was the part Ry should have foreseen, but still it had snuck up on him. Questions. Always questions. And they were never easy to answer. “Like what?”

The oven timer went off and, thankful for a moment of respite, he rushed over to pull out the nachos. He’d made a whole pan of chips with jalapeños, tomatoes, onions, shredded chicken, black beans and heaps of cheese. His favorite comfort food. A guy could never find good nachos in Paris.

“You have to share these with me,” he called over his shoulder, and was surprised when she answered from close by.

Indigo leaned over the pan of steaming nachos and inhaled. “That smells heavenly. Last time I had something like this was when I visited a girlfriend in the States. You can’t find good nachos in Paris.”

“Exactly. I use pickled jalapeños on them. That’s the secret recipe.”

She rubbed her palms together. “Dish me up!”

Could he get so lucky that she’d forget she’d come here with questions? With hope, maybe she would.

Chapter 4

It had been a while since Ry enjoyed the company of a woman so much. And since he’d felt so comfortable with one. Usually his dates were high-maintenance, slipping into the bathroom every half hour to check their makeup, texting or doing God knew what on their ever-present cell phones. He had yet to see Indigo glance at her phone.

They both sat on the sofa, facing the slanted windows that lined the east side of his flat from the floor, where they rose vertically about six feet up the wall, then angled at forty-five degrees to the top of the high ceiling.

Indi’s hand rested on her stomach and she’d slouched down and declared, “You’ve ruined me for any other kind of nachos. I am your servant for life. Pay me with melty cheese and those fabulous pickled jalapeños.”

“I have never seen such a pretty, petite woman put down the cheese and chips with such gusto. I promise to call you next time I have a nacho craving.”

She met his fist with her own. And Ry tilted his head against the back of the sofa and slouched down as well. He’d had a couple of beers in the fridge, and the now empty bottles sat on the coffee table. An evening sharing brews and junk food with a pretty woman? This was a hell of a lot easier than doing the fancy-restaurant thing and then trying to figure out if he should suggest a museum or a boring concert. And how to read a woman regarding whether she was on board for sex or if she was the sort who had a three-date minimum or even longer.

But he reminded himself this wasn’t a date. The woman had been dumped by her boyfriend. And Ry did not do the rebound-guy thing. No way. He didn’t need that kind of baggage to sort through.

He wasn’t sure what was going on besides that he was warming to Indi fast and hoped they could get to know each other better. As more than friends, if that appealed to her. It did to him. When she decided to start dating again, he wanted to be tops on her list of potential dates.

Indi suddenly sat upright, turned to face him and asked, “Now about what I really came here for.”

Ah, hell. The fun couldn’t have lasted forever. Ry sat up and set the empty plate on the table, then prepared to face the tough questions.

“This is going to sound strange,” she began, “but...why do I feel as if I was drugged the other night?”

Because she had been. “You did say champagne goes straight to your head.”

“True, but I’ve been on a champagne bender once before. This was different. The aftereffects have been exhausting. I’ve slept like Sleeping Beauty minus the beauty part. I didn’t even get up until three today. It’s like I’m fighting to come back from an illness, or something. And I still don’t feel right. Tired and achy. Usually after a bender I puke, pass out, then wake with a headache. But a few hours later, I’m good to go. You didn’t... I mean, I don’t think you would. You seem like a nice man. But... I have to ask.”

He picked up on where she was headed. “I did not roofie you, Indi.”

“Oh. Right. I mean, it’s never happened to me before, so I wouldn’t know what to expect. I’m sorry, but I had to ask.”

“Understandable. Let me see if I can help you to sort out things.”

Ry shoved a hand over his hair, then pulled it back and held his hand at the back of his head. How to explain this to her without going into so much detail she’d develop even more questions... Could he trust her with the details? She already knew some things, so he’d only get caught if he tried to twist them into something they had not been.

“And while you’re at it, what were those black things?” she asked. “I saw them. They were...creatures. Totally black and creepy and yet weirdly sparkly.”

Ry blew out his breath and dropped his hair. No way around this one. And lying never felt right to his soul. He’d have to give her the truth. Some of it. She seemed smart and capable of handling such information. And if not, she could run away from him again, and he wouldn’t go after her. She’d just think she’d met a totally whacked guy with a weird way of looking at the world.

“You were drugged,” he said. “Or rather, you were treated with a complex healing process that involved herbs and some...” He couldn’t say faery magic. No human was that open-minded. “And I’m sure that was what has you feeling so blown now.”

“Herbs? What the hell?” She pressed her palm over the base of her throat. Today there were no signs she’d even been injured by the collector. “I remember something about getting cut. Maybe from the creature’s claws? Then you picked me up and carried me... And then I draw a blank. Ryland, please. I know this is crazy, but I need to fill in the blanks so I don’t think I’m going nuts.”

“You’re not nuts. At least, as far as I know. I don’t know you well.” He winked, but she didn’t return the playful vibe.

Right. She was worried, and he had no right to keep her in the dark.

“There was a creature,” he confessed. “Two of them. I was there to slay them. Which I did. Because if I had not stopped them they would have entered the mortal realm fully and done some terrible things.”

Indigo thrust up a palm between them. But she didn’t speak.

Ry felt compelled to clasp her hand and give it a reassuring squeeze, then he set it on her leg. “This is going to be tough to hear, but you have to keep an open mind. Okay?”

She nodded. Winced. Closed her eyes tightly. Then opened one eye and nodded again.

“First,” Ry said, “I need to know if you’ve been in that area of the eighteenth before. At night?”

“A lot of times. I used to party there with friends a few years ago. Janet and I did the Club Rouge for her going-away party this spring. Why?”

“No reason. Well, yes, there is a reason. That particular section of Paris is a strange place. Actually, it’s called a thin place. Two worlds overlap.”

She didn’t react, but her attention grew fierce. He was jumping deep, but something about the woman made him feel as if she wouldn’t be satisfied with anything but that dive, so Ry continued. “Do you know about faeries?”

“You mean like the little twinkly ones I see in my garden?”

He bent to level their gazes. “You see faeries?”

She shrugged. “Not all the time, but I have. And just that you’re asking about it means that I don’t have to say to you ‘don’t think I’m weird.’”

“I don’t think you’re weird. You’ve seen actual faeries before?”

“I guess so. Out of the corner of my eye. I believe in faeries. Just like I’m sure all the other mythical creatures exist in the world. Not that I’ve seen anything but a few faeries. I’ve have never run in to a vampire, but until something is disproven, I keep an open mind.”

Ry’s exhale released a lot of tension. “Good. Because those black sparkly creatures were from Faery.”

“Really?” Her response was so enthusiastic Ry leaned away from her. Would it have been easier if she’d laughed at his fantastical suggestion and walked out on him? Much less to explain that way. “But those creatures were big. The same size as you. Can faeries be all sizes and shapes?”

He nodded. “Basically. They are a species, and within the species are hundreds, probably thousands of breeds.”

“Cool.”

So far, so good. Time to hold his breath and do the free dive to the deepest depths.

“That part of Paris you were in last night is called FaeryTown,” Ry said. “It’s where the realm of Faery overlaps the mortal realm. It’s always been there. Humans aren’t aware of it. They walk through never knowing that faeries are all around them, living, existing, doing drugs.”

“Drugs?”

“Rather, the faeries sell their dust to—” Er, she probably didn’t need to know about vampires and their addiction to faery dust right now. “Anyway, I saw you sitting on the curb, and you could see me.”

“I did see you.” Her eyebrows narrowed. She was starting to think too much.

Ry jumped in for the save. “At that moment, I realized I shouldn’t have been able to see you, so I figured that you had somehow breached the fabric between the two realms and were actually in FaeryTown. And since you say you’ve seen faeries in your garden, then maybe you have the sight.”

“Is that an ability to see faeries?”

“Yes. I have it. And that’s what allows me to enter FaeryTown and to interact with its inhabitants.”

“Which is why you were there with a big sword and hell gleaming in your eyes?”

“You did see those black things flying above me.”

“I did. Not nice?”

“The nastiest of the not nice. I can’t allow them to enter the mortal realm, so I go there every night to slay them.”

“Every night?”

“At midnight. One or two collectors come through from Faery.”

“Collectors? That’s what you call the black sparkly things?”

“Yes. And while you don’t need to know everything, just know that it would be a very bad situation if one got through to this realm. Meaning, they pierced the borders of FaeryTown and completely entered the human realm.”

“Uh-huh.” She rapped her fingers on her leg a few times, then tilted her head at him. Her big blue eyes were so deeply colored they were almost violet. Faeries had violet eyes. But she wasn’t faery. He’d sense her faery nature if she was. And she had bled the other night. Red blood. Faery blood was clear and sparkly.