Predator's Serenade (11 page)

The boy nodded a third time, this time bursting with energy and enthusiasm. “Teach me to fight!” Gunnar ran into the clearing and took up a fight stance, his fists balled up in front of his body.

Soren laughed. He looked at Gioia, whose face was streaked by her drying tears. God, she was so beautiful she made his heart hurt. Unable to resist, he leaned over and kissed her cheek, licking at the salty tracks. She stared at him, dazed, and touched her cheek. “I don’t want to see you cry,” he whispered.

She offered him a smile so bright the sun seemed extinguished. “You just took away my reason for crying. You brought my son back to me.”

He stroked her cheek. “You never lost him. He was just hiding.” Before his burning desire to sweep her into his arms overwhelmed him further, he joined Gunnar in the clearing. “All right, as they say, the best defense is a good offense. And part of that is learning how to size up any threats.”

The two women sat on the beach once more and watched for the next while as Soren took Gunnar through some simple fight maneuvers. The kid already had good instincts, and his natural musicality gave him a rhythm on his feet most people didn’t possess. Soren taught him to weave and punch and duck, and they worked some more on controlling his inner bear. Within thirty minutes, Gunnar proved he could shift on his own terms and not on the bear’s terms. After an hour or so, there wasn’t much more to teach him. He was a shifter, and Soren had every confidence Gunnar could handle himself the next time some punk hurled comments his way.

And as they all walked back to the lodge later for refreshments, Soren realized he’d never felt quite so pleased. The sight of Gunnar’s arm draped around his mom gladdened him as few things did.

And her grateful smiles sent him soaring right into the stratosphere.

Late that night, Soren sat at the grand piano in the conference room while the rest of the guests slept. He’d asked Ryland to have the instrument wheeled in for him so he could compose his piece for the Philharmonic, and his work was way behind. Seeing as he’d spent all his days with Gioia and her son, he’d had no choice but to do his work at night. After personally checking out which security guard was posted outside Gioia’s door, ensuring the man was happily mated, Soren took the time he needed for his work.

Although Soren was a drummer, he played several instruments. He’d composed orchestral pieces before and usually didn’t have trouble. With this one, he just wasn’t inspired. With a frown, he stared at his blank staff paper and then down at the keys. Tickling the ivories was a nice change from rocking out on the drums and had always given him such contentment.

Tonight, it was nothing less than torture.

He fiddled again with a couple of notes that were plaguing him. It wasn’t often that he suffered from mental block as far as music was concerned, but it was happening now. For some reason, each harmony sounded discordant. Each melody sounded like one he’d heard before. Pitiful. Bland. Unimaginative.

Every time he struck a certain key, he was reminded of Gioia. The woman who, despite her gratitude, had still said “no” to him. How he longed to hear her scream, “Yes!”

Even though he’d washed his hands a couple of times since their fevered interlude in the woods, he could still smell her on him. The scent of his mate infused into his skin, calling to him. It cut him to the core. It ravished him. It filled him with raw, aching desire.

And it wasn’t just her scent. It was the way her vulnerability warred with her inner strength. It was her smile and the way it shot holes into his brash façade. It was the way she saw through him and how she was unafraid to call him out. She made him want to be better.

Her beauty spoke to him. He could imagine her now, splayed on his bed, her black curls tumbling on his pillow. Her nipples pebbled as he licked his way down her body. He could already hear her groans as he brushed his lips against her stomach, and then lower.

He ran his hand through his hair and attempted to clear his head.

Her dark eyes called to him with their seemingly endless depths. They were so unlike his own blue eyes, and they captivated him. He could have stared at them forever. Eyes like hers made you want to sing Van Morrison songs and make love under the stars.

Yet there was something else in those eyes, a pain he needed to dissolve. He’d made some headway today, but not enough. If only she’d let go of her perceived notions and truly let him in. But she’d put a stop to it, leaving him open-mouthed like a drooling idiot. She’d said “no” to him. He hadn’t heard that word come from a woman’s lips in quite some time, not since he was an awkward teenager. He’d sort of grown accustomed to hearing “yes.”

What did one do with “no” anyway?

“Stop it,” he warned himself. He grabbed the beer sitting next to him on the piano bench and wrenched off the cap. He took a swig and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Get back to work.”

He placed his hands on the keys and tried a few more chords. The passage still didn’t sound right. Why was this so damn hard? “Get her out of your head! Stop thinking with your cock, you animal.”

He decided to give up for the night, but stared at the piano for a moment. Then, unable to think of anything else, he allowed himself to picture Gioia again. As he indulged in remembering her, his fingers stroked the piano keys, and he pretended he was stroking her. He concentrated on the way she tried in vain to tuck her long curls behind her ear, and other notes began to fall into place for him. He remembered the searing heat of their kiss, and a new musical phrase formed in his head. A haunting melody was taking shape as he dwelled on the fine arch of her eyebrow. His gut stirred as he pictured the soft roundness of her breasts.

Bewildered, he stared down at the piano keys that had been grieving him. Thinking of Gioia seemed to be helping him overcome his musical writer’s block. When he had forced her from his mind, the music wouldn’t flow. Once he permitted himself to think of her, the music poured out of him.

“Well, what do you know? I do have a Muse,” he chuckled. “Better write it all down.”

Perhaps he could convince the little owl to kiss him again, just to get his creative juices flowing. Then he could write some more of the blasted piece.

With a laugh, he wondered if she’d allow him to screw her senseless so he could finish the whole damned thing.

* * * *

As Gunnar grunted in his sleep, Gioia’s eyes popped open. She’d been on the verge of finally falling asleep but was too attuned to her son’s sleeping patterns. Even at home, when they were in different parts of the house, she heard every moan and cry. Here, where they shared a suite at the resort, it was hard to drift off while Gunnar was reliving his pain. Ryland had kindly given them a suite, even though they’d only booked a standard room, but Gioia liked to keep the door open between the rooms.

She checked on him to see if he was having one of his usual nightmares. He’d been better since Soren helped him today, but she was under no illusion that things were perfect with her son. Yes, he’d made strides but still had a ways to go in forgiving himself.

He kicked at his blanket and muttered something unintelligible, and then he rolled over and snored. When he wasn’t having nightmares, the kid slept like the dead. Teens.

Rubbing her eyes, feeling sleepy and wide awake at the same time, she went off in search of a bottle of water from the minibar. She opened the small door, careful not to let it squeak, and spotted a Heineken at the back. “Ooh, much better than spring water.”

Grateful for the bottle opener attached to the minibar, she popped the top. Gioia took the bottle and opened up the patio door. She stepped out onto the fourth floor balcony and lowered herself onto a plush lounger that looked way more comfortable than her rickety old patio chairs at home. She settled into the overstuffed cushions and sighed. Her room looked out over the outdoor pool, where the waters twinkled even at night. In the distance, the dark woods formed a black wedge against the horizon. She could smell the pines, even from here. Soothed, Gioia took a sip of beer and laid back in her lounger with her eyes closed.

It was a warm, sultry night, the kind whose heat enveloped a body. If Gioia had been wearing any other type of pajamas, she’d be tempted to take them off. However, she was wearing Soren’s Hugo Boss shirt. The resort staff had laundered it quickly for her, and she luxuriated in its smoothness. The fabric was soft and had the feel of a well-loved garment. Somehow, even after cleaning, it smelled of him, and she lifted the collar to her nose to breathe him in. Sliding it on over her nude body had been a sinful temptation, one she hadn’t been able to resist. Now, in the black of night, her memories of him tormented her in the most delicious way. She slid a hand between her legs, remembering the feel of his big hand there.

“Soren,” she said, sighing.

Within moments, she heard footsteps on the pool deck below her. The pool closed at six o’clock. She couldn’t imagine who’d be out there now. It was almost three A.M. Leaning forward, removing her hand from her crotch, she glanced toward the sound.

And saw the object of her lust. What was Soren doing on the pool deck in the middle of the night?

Dragging her chair quietly to the edge of the balcony, she watched. He stared at the water in the pool as if hypnotized. He stood so still, lost in his thoughts. Was he thinking of her? She couldn’t help hoping so.

After a couple of minutes, he slowly reached up and yanked his shirt over his head. Damn. That incredible bare chest again. Only he didn’t stop there. With the soft, blue glow of the water reflecting off his chiseled form, Soren unbuttoned his jeans. Staring into the pool the whole time, he pushed his pants down over his hips and off his legs.

Holy Mother of God, he goes commando!

Gioia couldn’t look away, even if she wanted to. His abs had been something else. But this? She gawked at the evidence of his sexual prowess and felt a splash of cold on her leg. Jumping at the frigid sensation, she realized she’d poured beer on herself. Putting her bottle down, she forgot to wipe the liquid off her leg and just let it drip off. She was too enraptured by the sight of a totally nude Soren Snow.

He leaned over to run his fingertips through the water, and she immediately lamented losing a clear view of his pelvic area. However, he soon stood, and the vision was restored to her. Powerful thighs. Hips encased in brawn. And, oh God, that cock. She wasn’t sure if he was even aroused, but if he wasn’t, she worried how big he’d get when fully stimulated. It had to be painful, carrying around that massive organ. Gioia stifled a cry. She could almost feel it inside her, sweeping into her, stretching her wider than she’d ever been stretched.

Paul had been big too. Heck, she imagined all bear shifters were. But this was obscene. Soren was a monster. A lip-smacking, panty-drenching, mother-fucking monster.

Drifting away on a fast-flowing jet stream of desire, Gioia watched him dive into the pool and touched herself again. As his powerful body sliced through the Olympic-sized pool in a punishing series of laps, Gioia slid her fingers between her lips and imagined Soren’s tongue there. Growing wetter by the second, she plucked and tickled her clit, and wondered what it would feel like to have him suck her to orgasm. Somehow, she just knew it would be mind-blowing. Her gaze pinned on his swift movements, trained on his white ass, highlighted as it was in the water. He looked like a water god frolicking in the sea, and she so wanted to be his lascivious nymph. She plunged her fingers into her pussy, desperate to create the sort of sensation he could with his cock, and knew she wouldn’t be able to emulate him. Even still, she rubbed and poked and brought herself to breaking point. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the image of Soren fucking her with abandon.

And just as her orgasm was about to spill out of her on a hushed plaint, Gioia heard a noise on the balcony. Her eyes snapped open, and she removed her hand from between her legs. As her pulse raced, she saw the man. The unfamiliar man on her balcony, staring at her pussy.

She closed her legs and opened her mouth to scream.

He was too fast. He was a shifter of some sort. Of course he was fast. He clamped his hand onto her mouth to shut her up. His other hand landed between her legs, and he pried them open. “Now, now, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Don’t stop on my account. Why don’t I help you out?”

As he removed his hand from her mouth and plunged his tongue in, she let out a muffled scream.

* * * *

Soren burst out of the pool, splashing water all around. Was he hearing things? He sniffed the air. He knew that scent. He’d know it anywhere. It was Gioia. And she’d screamed.

He launched himself out of the pool and stood still in the evening air, sniffing for her direction. There was a shuffling noise on one of the balconies above him. And her scent was coming from there too.

She was in trouble.

He’d come back for his clothes later. He knew there was no time to waste. Eyeing the side of the lodge, Soren picked a route. Not caring who he woke up in the process, he jumped onto the first balcony ledge and hoisted himself up to the next level. His bare legs and arms scraped badly against the concrete edges, but he didn’t care. Scrapes were nothing if his mate was being threatened. Clambering up the next couple of levels like an enraged gorilla, Soren reached the fourth floor. The balcony he needed was a few doors down. He jumped onto the balcony ledge once more, taking care not to fall into the spaces between, and vaulted over to the next balcony and then the next.

When he reached Gioia’s balcony, he saw the patio door was open. And just inside, a man was on top of his woman.

His mate
.

The loser was wedged between her perfect legs and had released his dick, so close to raping her. Gioia had squeezed her eyes shut but was pounding the hell out of the man.
Good girl
. Still, she was human and no match for the shifter’s strength.

Soren, however, was only too happy to take him on.