Predator's Serenade (6 page)

As determination once again flitted across Soren’s features, he turned to Gunnar and called out. “Hey kid, would it bother you if I take your mother to dinner? You can come too.”

All the blood drained from Gioia’s head. No one ever included her son in anything back home. They all recognized there was something different about him. The human kids made fun of him, and human adults avoided him.

Gunnar stared. “Nah. I’ll practice and grab some pizza later.”

Wait. What?
A smile wiggled its way onto her face as her heart leaped. All of a sudden, her kid was loquacious. “Sure, honey. As long as Mr. Snow doesn’t mind.” She looked at Soren.

“Take as long as you need, Gunnar,” Soren said. “Hey, maybe tomorrow I can teach you some of my technique.”

Gunnar’s mouth fell open. He nodded and went back to happily causing a racket.

Soren grinned at her, and his cerulean eyes lit up. “So, I guess that frees us up for dinner. I just need to grab a shirt. Do you mind if we stop at my suite on the way?”

Gioia nodded, her speech still incapacitated. His suite. She was dying to tell him that dinner without a shirt sounded good to her, but she followed him out of the room like the good girl she was.

* * * *

A few moments later, newly-clothed, Soren sat across from Gioia at the resort’s Italian restaurant. It was a new addition to the lodge and had become the most popular eatery there, with its white tablecloths, many candles, and incredible northern Italian specialties. Soren liked it because it boasted a few quiet, dark corners. He’d asked the host to direct them to the quietest and darkest, and he realized immediately Gioia was stunning when bathed in candlelight. Of course, standing in the conference room with her snot all over her face, she’d been pretty cute too.

Sadly, the shadowy ambience of their little corner was doing nothing to dissuade some of the other men in the restaurant. As soon as they’d entered, several waiters turned to Gioia and gave her a good sniff. Soren had seen their pupils dilate; he’d glimpsed their hunger for her.

And wasn’t impressed.

Trying to keep a lid on his need to introduce the male wait staff to his claws, he took a deep breath and looked at her. He was feeling a little better than before, but not by much. Ryland had been right. As soon as Soren told himself to keep an open mind about this mate malarkey, the pains in his gut had settled down. And now that he was sitting with Gioia in relative harmony, his bear rumbled his approval inside his rib cage.

His bear seemed to like her. After years of neglecting what his animal needed, after so many years of pretending he was human just to avoid conflict, perhaps he owed it to his bear. Maybe it was time to throw the bear a bone, so to speak. Or a woman. “So, Gioia, tell me about yourself.”

She blinked at him, her long lashes almost sweeping the inner surface of her glasses. “Not much to tell.”

A trio of waiters crept over to their table, eyeing Gioia’s breasts. “Can I get you a drink?” they asked as a horny unit.

“Back off. We just sat down,” Soren replied, feeling the rolling growl at the back of his throat. He glared at them, ignoring Gioia’s horrified expression at his rudeness, and they took off. He returned his gaze to her. “Oh, come on, Gioia. Everyone has a story. I know I do.” He offered her a multigrain roll from the basket on the table.

“Weren’t you a little hard on those waiters?”

What the fuck?
“I’ll stop being hard on them when they stop eyeballing your chest.” He thrust the basket at her again. “Roll?”

“I shouldn’t. Starches don’t agree with my hips.” She frowned at the bread as if it were her mortal enemy, and then reached out a tentative hand. No willpower whatsoever.

Good,
his bear murmured his approval. It liked her apparent lack of willpower. Soren gave his bear a mental swat, and the animal backed into a corner. “We were talking about stories.”

“Oh,” she said on a nervous giggle. “I know all about
your
stories.” And then she clapped her mouth shut, as if worried she’d offended him. She returned her gaze to the roll and buttered it with a savage grace.

Damn
. The whole world had heard about his liaisons. And for the first time in his life, Soren regretted it. “Yeah,” he said, grabbing his own roll and spreading a thick layer of butter on it. “The press loves me.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Did you really date the blonde from
Beverly Hills Nannies
? The one who’s in rehab now?”

“Nah. They made that one up.”

“Oh,” she murmured, her relief palpable.

The conversation stalled as they both mulled over Soren’s sordid dating history. He tensed when the waiter arrived again. Seemingly unable to remove his gaze from her crossed legs peeking out from under the table, the man offered Gioia some wine. While Soren clutched the tabletop so hard his knuckles showed white, she ordered a beer instead. He followed her lead. Ready to pummel the waiter, who was now leaning over and sniffing Gioia’s fragrant head, Soren forged ahead and ordered dinner. A massive T-bone for himself, as he had the distinct need to bite into flesh right now. Gioia chose a risotto flavored with rose petals.

What a girly meal
.

As the air around them crackled with a sexual tension Soren neither understood nor fully welcomed, he struggled for something to say. The weather, her favorite movie, her thoughts about rising gas prices, all these things occurred to him but didn’t seem to matter. He decided to go for the nitty-gritty. “Ry told me Gunnar’s dad passed away. I’m sorry.”

Gioia fiddled with her fork, running a pensive finger over the tines. “Thanks. It’s been hard on both of us.”

He reached for her hand, suddenly needing to touch her. His bear uttered a low, keening moan upon feeling her skin. The question which had been plaguing Soren spilled out of him. “How are you managing…you know, without your mate?”

And how is it you never became a shifter?

Gioia tried to pull her hand away, but he and his bear retained a tight grasp. It felt good enfolded in his, and he wanted to keep it for a while.

“Paul and I had a complicated relationship.”

“From what I’ve been told,” Soren pressed on, “finding your mate is supposed to make things less complicated. More black and white. Boy meets girl. Boy needs girl. Girl needs boy. End of story.”

Gioia tugged out of his grasp again, and he let her go this time, with reluctance. “Black and white isn’t something I had with Paul. We had more of a muddy brown situation.”

Soren felt an ominous rolling in his chest, an asthmatic lurch. Something about her story felt off. He’d never known any shifter to describe their mate in anything less than glowing terms. What about Paul had put the pain in Gioia’s eyes?

And could he fix it?

Fuck. He’d never been one for fixing anything or anyone. He hired people to change light bulbs in his condo, for Christ’s sake. And yet, suddenly he wanted to plaster up all the cracks in Gioia’s existence and sand them until they were soft and smooth. Like her skin. “Tell me.”

A new waiter arrived with their beers. He placed them on the table and hung around drooling over Gioia. Soren gave a vigorous nod toward the kitchen, warning off the man with as much fury as he could muster. The waiter saw the threat in Soren’s eyes and backed away.

Gioia took a sip of her drink, oblivious to the fact that she had the entire wait staff practically hemorrhaging over the need to get to her. She continued her story. “My husband had issues.”

Soren stared at her. He didn’t like where this was going but let her talk.

She must have noticed the deep furrows in his brow because she was quick to continue. “Don’t get me wrong. I loved Paul with all my heart, and he loved me. We married young. I was only twenty when I had Gunnar.”

That
was
young. Gunnar was twelve, putting his mom at thirty-two. She was Soren’s age. And while he’d spent his formative years playing drums and fucking fans and empty-headed models, Gioia had been home with a small child and a mate with
issues
. “Go on.”

She breathed in and out. “It became clear early on in our marriage that Paul suffered from…” She stopped, clearly choosing her words. “Well, mental lapses. When I met him, he was an energetic young shifter, full of life and eager to commit to me. He shared the truth about what he was, but it didn’t matter to me. I embraced him. Shortly after we married, I began to notice small changes in his personality, things other people might not see but were glaring to me. His temper flared a lot. He’d run from hot to cold in the course of five seconds. And if something upset him, it really made him mad. At first, I chalked it up to being passionate, but it got worse over time.” The left side of her mouth curled up in a half-hearted grin. “There were a lot of pots and pans thrown in my house.”

Soren’s bear charged against his rib cage, howling in rage. On the outside, Soren the man fought to keep cool. He reached for his dinner roll, noticed it was already eaten, and grabbed another from the basket. Shoving the second roll into his mouth without stopping to butter it, he gnawed so hard his teeth hurt. An unstable male shifter with tremendous strength and a penchant for throwing crockery at his wife. He was not happy hearing this at all. Soren swallowed his overly-masticated chunk of pumpernickel and spat, “Did he hurt you?”

Gioia looked at him, her eyes widening at the vehemence in his tone. Once again, she picked up her fork and clicked the tines with her fingernail, keeping an eye on Soren. Her olive skin turned pale. “Not at first.”

Not at first
. So help him God, Soren had never felt faint before in his life. Right now, he was ready to pass out from rage. He licked his dry lips. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered.
Get a hold of yourself. She’s here, alive and well, and Paul is dead. This story has a happy ending. Stop freaking out, you psychotic loon
. “But he did hurt you eventually?”

“Soren, you have to understand. He was sick. And no one could help him.” Her lashes fluttered behind her glasses, and her eyes watered, but she blinked any tears away.

“Why? Why could no one help him?”

“Paul was a shifter. You know as well as I do human medicine doesn’t have much of an effect on those of your kind. We tried a few different drugs, but they just made him more erratic. And it wasn’t as if we could visit with the local shifter shrink, because he doesn’t exist.” She shook her head, clearly lamenting the sadness of it all. “There was something wrong in his brain, something that wouldn’t show up on a brain scan for humans. We didn’t exactly have a lot of resources to consult. I just tried to keep him on an even keel as much as I could.”

“There was no one in the shifter community you could talk to?”

Her shoulders shrugged. “Oh, we tried. No one had ever heard of a healthy shifter becoming bipolar. Shifters are supposed to be immune to such human diseases. People thought we were exaggerating the symptoms, that Paul was just hot-headed. The only person who listened to me was Wes, my second cousin. The man you saw me with.”

Soren felt heat color his cheeks at the reminder of how he’d flipped out on Gioia and her relative. “Did he know what to do?”

She looked him right in the eye. Soren wove a little, even though he was sitting at the table, and grabbed onto the hard surface. Her eyes were just so pretty and so dark. Tons of clichés about bottomless pools of desire floated through his brain.

“No,” she confirmed quietly. “No one did. But at least Wes was a support system for me. He spent a lot of time with us, ate meals with us to keep me company. If it hadn’t been for him taking Paul out for a beer every few evenings, I would have gone insane.”

“Why didn’t you leave Paul?”

Her lips compressed, making her appear determined and all too sexy for his peace of mind. “Because he was my husband and a good man. If he’d understood what he was doing to me, it would have destroyed him. He had a gentle soul. Besides, I don’t give up on those I love.”

They stared at each other for long seconds while Soren’s heart palpitated. Who was this woman? She resembled a cute bird but had tenacity the likes of which he’d never known. Gioia was so kind and strong it put him to shame.

The waiter arrived with a steaming platter of food. As hungry as Soren was, he was tempted to tell the man to piss off. He didn’t want any more interruptions. He wanted to know more about Gioia, and about Gunnar too, and then he wanted to see what he could do to make her really smile again. Not the sham smile she used in polite company. A genuine, knock-your-socks-off, feel it in your wobbly knees, happy smile.

“Madam ordered the risotto,” intoned the waiter with the sexed-up voice of an announcer at a strip joint, while carefully placing the platter in front of Gioia. “A wonderful choice.” He didn’t even look at Soren as he thrust another plate toward him. “T-bone.”

“Thanks.” His bear grumbled at the waiter.
Piss off, piss off, piss off
.

Just as Gioia leaned in to inhale the rosy scent of her flowery risotto, Soren heard a crash at the restaurant entrance. Someone was making a commotion. He looked up, only to see the host restraining someone at the door.

“I don’t have a goddamn reservation! I just need to come in for a minute.”

Gioia’s head snapped up at the man’s voice. Any color in her cheeks drained quickly. She whispered, “Oh, no.”

As Soren’s protective instinct took hold, he assessed the situation. He checked out the man and recognized him as Gioia’s cousin Wes. There was no mistaking the muscled shifter. Only there was something different about him. Earlier, he hadn’t looked quite so crazed, but there was now a bright desperation in his eyes. Soren knew that look. It was a quickly growing hunger.

The man craned his head, noticed Gioia, and called out to her. “Gioia! I need to see you.” He broke free from the host’s grip and dashed into the room, stopping at their table. His nostrils were flared, and his eyes were narrowed on her in lust.

Oh, no, you don’t
.