Predator's Serenade

by Rosanna Leo

  While Ryland looked over the papers, oblivious to the come-hither look in his employee’s eyes, she stepped closer to Soren. “It’s because of you, Soren. When you were here last, you asked me what I might do to ensure your satisfaction as a customer. I began to think about it. I realized I would do a lot to make you a happy customer.”

  Soren stared. Did the mouse just make a play for him? Of course, the last time he’d been at the lodge, he’d sort of made a play for her. He looked at Ry to see if he had a witness to Marci’s new lascivious personality, but his brother was obsessing over the damn surveys. He turned back to Marci. She ran her hand along his arm, stroking him with one determined finger. Her tongue tickled the corner of her mouth.

  She leaned in and whispered, “I’m in room 214. My door’s always open.”

  Sucking in a terrified breath, Soren extricated himself from her grasp. Ryland finally looked up. “You going?”

  “Yeah,” Soren replied, refusing to acknowledge Marci as she licked her lips some more. “I promised Gunnar a lesson.”

  “Have fun, Soren,” Marci said, purring like a predatory cat. “See you soon.”

  He raced out of the office, his heart pounding. And then Soren realized the most astounding thing. His heart wasn’t racing because a beautiful woman had so obviously propositioned him.

  It was because the woman wasn’t Gioia. And it just felt wrong.

  * * * *

  He came upon them in the conference room. Gioia’s pulse sped up as soon as Soren opened the door and walked in, making her feel like a hormonal teenager. He wasn’t wearing designer clothes today, or at least, if they were designer, they were expertly distressed. His massive chest was contained by a slim-fitting T-shirt with a skull over his left pec, a shirt any skater would covet. And his strong legs and tush were clad in yet another pair of jeans that seemed molded to his figure. His Converse sneakers resembled Gunnar’s, making her suppress a smile. Swallowing hard, she looked him in the face and her almost-grin disappeared. Soren was pale and looked troubled, and she had an urge to run to him, to make him feel better. She put down the scarf she was knitting and held his gaze.

  He must have lots of questions. Such as why her cousin seemed determined to swallow her whole. In fact, she wanted to figure it out herself.

  The previous evening, Soren had given permission to Gunnar to use his drum set as much as he wished. The boy had taken Soren at his word and couldn’t be pried away from his idol’s kit. Gioia had joined Gunnar as he practiced, listening as she knit, accompanied by yet another of Ryland’s beefy security guards.

  Soren approached her. At the sight of her knitting needles, his frown slipped away, and he offered her a wry grin. “Seriously? You knit? Like a granny?”

  “I’ll have you know young, hip people knit too,” she retorted. “Maybe I enjoy mindless activity. Besides, my nonna taught me to knit, and she was the hippest granny I ever met.” And then, because she felt strangely playful with him, she stuck her tongue out.

  His pupils dilated as he stared at her mouth. Quickly, she withdrew her tongue. These shifter men had insane libidos. Everywhere she looked, someone was checking her out. It was unprecedented, and even human males didn’t seem immune to her weird charms. The last time she went grocery shopping, a small army of men almost broke into a fight over the chance to hold one of her bags. And at the dentist last month she’d had to ask one of the female hygienists to remain in the room with her and Dr. Patterson because the old doctor was a little too touchy-feely all of a sudden.

  Perhaps it was best she kept her tongue out of Soren Snow’s field of vision. She wasn’t a tease, after all.

  He continued staring at her, his nostrils flared. She’d been around enough shifters to know what it meant. He was breathing her in. Did he like her scent? Without trying to appear obvious, Gioia tried to inhale Soren’s scent too. Her olfactory sense might not be as strong as his, but she could still smell him. He didn’t wear cologne, which was good because perfumes made her eyes water. He had a more subtle scent, that of a really expensive, spicy bath wash on male skin. It flooded her sinuses, more powerful than she expected it to be, and made her head swim. God love her, she felt a little giddy.

  “You’ll stay for the lesson.” It wasn’t a question, but still somehow carried the utmost in consideration for her. He was likely worried after last night’s bravura performance with Wes.

  Try not to be such a spaz today, G. “I’ll stay.”

  “Good.”

  And then without warning, he touched her cheek. He brushed his fingers against her skin with an aching slowness that made her head even more loopy. He gently squeezed the apple of her cheek, as if feeling the texture of her, and caressed the corner of her lips with his thumb. It took every ounce of fortitude not to turn and suck his thumb into her mouth.

  And the whole time, her son was pounding the hell out of the drums. Gunnar hit the cymbal, bringing them both to awareness. Soren withdrew his hand, and Gioia wordlessly resumed her knitting, trying to concentrate on the click of the needles rather than Soren’s intense gaze.

  She tossed a few surreptitious glances their way over the next hour and a half, watching as Soren taught her son some new tricks and bonded with him. Gunnar never said a word, but his hazel eyes were bright with excitement. It made her heart want to burst its confines in her chest. And every time Soren looked her way, his eyes penetrating and full of something which looked suspiciously like desire, her heart crashed its own cymbal.

  * * * *

  By the time he was done jamming with the kid, both of them hot and sweaty, Soren turned to Gioia. “Let’s all do lunch.”

  He wouldn’t normally have offered such a thing, but he’d done it twice in twenty-four hours. Eating with a kid and his mom. For years, the idea would have been close to his depiction of hell. But he had to admit, he kind of liked this Gunnar. Sure, the boy didn’t talk much at all, but there was passion in his playing. Soren suspected a very deep soul existed under the layers of cut-off jeans and kid grime.

  And as for how he felt about Gioia, well…it floored him even as he grappled with it. Every moment he spent in the young mother’s presence, she became more and more attractive to him. When he was around her, he could swear his bear purred. She turned his mighty polar bear into a cute kitty cat who wanted his tum-tum rubbed.

  Anyway, he wanted to make sure no other shifter got his paws on her.

  He took her in. A denim skirt that showed off her gorgeous, womanly legs. Those sandals that drove him to distraction because of the way they highlighted her high arches. And a soft-looking striped shirt. This one had a V-neck. Every time she moved, her cleavage shifted and made his brain hammer inside his head.

  Lunch with them would be nice. Better than nice.

  Gioia’s face crumpled. “We already have plans for lunch.”

  Soren stared. Ah, shit. “Uh…”

  She perked up. “Maybe you could join us. We’re just meeting Wes. He called and apologized for his crazy behavior.” She shook her head, clearly wondering about her cousin’s conduct. “He must be taking some new vitamin or something. He just got carried away. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you joined us.”

  Oh, he was so joining them now. Soren felt the instant burn of anger as he remembered how Wes had played Casanova with Gioia. Even now, a cord of tension stuck out in his neck. Wes was supposed to steer clear of Gioia. Clearly, he couldn’t be trusted. The man’s just dealing with being under the influence of the pheromone. It’s not his fault. Try not to go all ape-shit on him. “I’ll join you then.”

  In response, Gunnar did a drum roll of happiness. When they turned to smile at him, he just gave his fingernails a blasé once-over, trying to appear the cool kid.

  Within minutes, they were all seated at the resort’s fish and chips shop. It was a tranquil spot overlooking the lake and had a relaxed atmosphere that made it popular with the visiting families. Soren gave thanks they were surrounded by loud, happy tourists bec
ause his tension had ratcheted up a notch. Somehow Wes had weasled himself at the table right next to Gioia, where Soren had been planning to sit. He ended up sitting next to the kid.

  While Gioia caught up with her embarrassed cousin, listening as he told a story of being invited out onto Ryland’s fishing boat, Soren stared at them. No doubt, Ry had lured Wes away for some fishing to get him away from Gioia for a while. Soren’s bear rumbled again, and a fiery burn took root in his stomach. It was good to see her smile and laugh at Wes’ tale of “almost landing the big one,” but he didn’t want her smiling at Wes.

  He wanted all her smiles. Her happy smiles, her proud smiles. Her smiles of lusty satisfaction. An image cut through his consciousness, one of Gioia laid out on his bed buck naked. Writhing and twisting in pleasure as he sucked her off, as he plundered her sweet pussy with his mouth and hands. A delicious visual of her grinning at him as he rose, wet-mouthed, from between her legs and found his home inside her.

  His brow got moist and hot. He wiped at his head and started at how clammy it was to the touch. Oh, damn. I need to get this woman alone again.

  She glanced at him, her adorable eyes squinting behind her glasses. “Are you okay, Soren?”

  “Yeah,” he muttered, mesmerized by the innocently seductive movement of her lips as she talked. “Just dandy.”

  * * * *

  Lunch had proven to be an exercise in excruciating pain. Wes had monopolized the entire conversation, and Soren had had to excuse himself to have a number of not-so-polite chats with unmated males who kept swerving by their table. It was exhausting. He was so relieved when some other mated dude approached the table and challenged Wes to a game of darts. Gioia had urged her cousin to go. Right on cue, Gunnar disappeared, heading for the conference room once more.

  Soren and Gioia eyed each other over the table, the remnants of their fish and chips between them. Taking the bull by the horns, Soren stood and reached for her hand. “Walk with me.”

  She stumbled after him out of the restaurant. “I don’t want to take up your time. I’m sure you have things to do.”

  He did have things to do. He owed a composition to the New York Philharmonic, and they’d want to collect it soon. Soren realized he hadn’t given his work a thought since arriving on Gemini Island. He’d been too taken up in Gioia’s family and plight…and her scent. He couldn’t even think about composing now. Not with his bear creating such a damned furor inside him. Did she taste as good as she smelled? “We won’t be long.”

  “But Gunnar…”

  “Your son is fine. You can spare a few minutes. I just want to walk with you.”

  “Oh.” Her whispered response put him even more on edge.

  I need to know if she’s my mate. I can’t continue like this.

  Soren almost dragged her into the woods and toward one of the hiking trails. It was his favorite trail on the island, if he had to pick one. It boasted a boardwalk that ran along a peaceful stretch of the lake. It was quiet there, with few hikers, as most of the serious outdoorsy types preferred the trails that delved into the deep woods.

  He listened to her soft footfall on the wooden planks below them, and all the while her scent called to him. Peaches and vanilla and something else…

  She was wet. Upon sensing the musky, feminine perfume, his cock pummeled the seam of his jeans. Jesus Christ.

  Desperate to touch her with some sort of intimacy, Soren slid his arm around her waist as they walked. He waited for her to jump away, but she didn’t. In fact, she almost leaned into him. Good. He suddenly had the desire to be her freaking Rock of Gibraltar. “You’re a good mom, Gioia,” he whispered.

  Her bottom lip wobbled and formed a smirk. “Not everyone agrees with you. People have made comments…”

  He frowned at her. “Fuck those people. What do they know?”

  She arched a black brow at him. “And what about you? Have you ever wanted kids?”

  He put the back of his hand to his brow in mock horror. “God, no.” He grinned, until he realized she wasn’t grinning in return. He got serious again. “But I still know it’s a hard job. I know our mom and dad had a rough time with Ry and me when we were growing up.”

  “They did?”

  “Sure. I wasn’t always the pillar of confidence you see before you now,” he joked. “I may not understand everything Gunnar’s going through, but I probably understand most of it. It’s not easy being different in a world of people who seem the same.”

  “How did you handle it?”

  “With my fists,” he said laughing. “Not the best approach, I admit. But for my brother and me, it was sometimes the only approach, especially when confronted by big, human bullies.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” she said quietly, her shoulder brushing under his.

  He grinned at his remembered follies. “Oh, don’t worry. We usually gave what we got. But it wasn’t easy for our folks. Not only did they have to deal with two grouchy bear sons, they had to deal with bear sons who weren’t even the same species.”

  “You and Ryland aren’t the same sort of bear?”

  “Nah. He’s a grizzly. I’m a polar. Freaks of nature, huh? Fact is, your bear isn’t decided by family history or coloring. I guess it’s more spiritual than that. You become the bear you need to be.” He allowed his gaze to rest on her eyes, drinking her in. “What were you like as a child?”

  She smiled. “Boring compared to you.”

  “I don’t believe that for a second.”

  “I guess I went through my rebellious stage when I was sixteen.” She looked down, but her smile was wide and noticeable, even as she tried to hide it. “My mom caught me necking with Ralph Ambrose in the alley behind our house. I think his hand might have been up my shirt when she caught us.”

  Soren grinned but had to admit the image made him even hotter. “Lucky Ralph.”

  “Not really,” Gioia replied. “My mother reacted in true Italian fashion. Wielding a pan, she dragged me away by my ear and told Ralph if she ever saw him near our house again, she’d roast his nuts. Each time I bumped into him at school afterward, he ran in the opposite direction.”

  He laughed, enjoying the bubble of amusement inside him. “I see where you get your protective instincts.”

  “I hope I’m not that bad,” she said softly, and the sweet, scratchy tone in her voice made his cock throb even harder.

  “You’re not. And Gunnar’s a good kid, thanks to you.” He smiled, mentally comparing the young Clementine’s behavior to some of his own old antics. “He’s not a little hell-raiser like I was.”

  She stared at him for a long moment and then looked ahead. Her body inched away from him. “Something tells me you still are.” She slid out of his grasp, making his pulse stop and start. It continued to jerk at a pace that would put a cardiac nurse on edge. “Look, Soren. You’ve been really kind, but I need to get back.”

  “Why?”

  “Because.”

  “Because why?”

  She stopped moving and glared at him. He could see she wasn’t sure of her own answer. From her furrowed brow and tense shoulders, he could tell the desire to stay with him was winning over the need to flee. “Because…I don’t go wandering in the woods with men I barely know. Because we have nothing in common. You run with the jet set. I walk with the bargain basement set. You go to gallery openings and play to concert halls. I knit, and yes, I still get a kick out of The Price Is Right. You’re wearing Polo. I couldn’t even tell you how to play polo. You live in New York and hang with glamorous people. I live in Calgary. The highlight of our year is a stampede. We’re not really cut from the same cloth.”

  “Are you judging me because I have money? Because I may live in New York, but I come from small-town Ontario.”

  “No, I’m judging you because you sleep with a new fashion victim every week!”

  Ouch. “Not every week,” he grumbled.

  “I appreciate what you’re doing for my son. I really do, but
it doesn’t mean you have to entertain me.”

  He thought they were having a nice time. Weren’t they having a nice time? It was hard to keep the harsh tone out of his voice as he replied, “I didn’t bring you into the woods to entertain you.”

  Her eyes flashed. “Then why are we here?”

  Why were they there? Because as much as he didn’t understand it, she moved him. Even though, as she’d so succinctly pointed out, they had nothing in common, he still wanted to taste her. The idea of having Gioia all to himself for a while appealed to him on a base level, a primal level, and he needed to follow through. “Because…I’m…”

  “You’re what?” she demanded.

  “I’m…ah, fuck. I’m hungry for you, that’s what!” And before she could close her gaping mouth, Soren gave into his craving and backed Gioia up against the boardwalk railing. Just a small taste. One little taste, and he’d know for sure.

  She let out a soft cry upon being pressed into the wooden rail. Immediately, he backed off so as not to hurt her. For a moment, he almost walked away, but in that second, Soren realized her hands were bunched up in his shirt, and she wasn’t showing any sign of letting go.

  “Did I scare you?” he asked, worried.

  “No. You just surprised me,” she replied in a breathless voice.

  He removed her glasses and placed them on a nearby bench. “And where do you stand on surprises?”

  “I’m…I’m good with them.”

  He crushed his body against hers, letting her feel his arousal on her belly. “Good.” Entangling his hand in her soft hair, he held her head still and smashed his lips against hers. As delirium consumed him, he traced her lips with his tongue, coaxing her to open to him. She did and he slid inside, savoring her warmth and her taste, needing to absorb her into his every pore. She met him, glide for luxurious glide, and Soren sucked at the tongue she’d poked out at him earlier. And the whole time, he wasn’t sure which of them was moaning harder.

  Crashing, frenzied sensation took root in his body, shaking his soul.