Predator's Serenade (7 page)

Soren stood and positioned himself before her. He addressed the man. “You need to take a step back, buddy.”

Wes pulled himself to his full height. “I could say the same to you,
buddy
.”

“Stop!” Gioia jumped out of her seat and tried to look around Soren. She glared at the other man. “Wes, what are you doing?”

“I needed to see you.”

“You see me every day. You could probably use a break from me.”

“I don’t want a break from you, baby.”

“I’m not your baby,” she shouted. “I’m your freaking cousin!”

Ew.
“What’s going on here?” Why would her relative be pining over her? Ah, he realized.

The fucking pheromone!

She turned to him. “I’m sorry, Soren. Dinner’s over. I can’t deal with this now.”

“Gioia, you’re so stubborn. If you’d only spend some time alone with me,” Wes muttered. “Look, you won’t get rid of me. Please come to my room and…talk.” The lowered tones of his voice indicated his intention to do a whole lot more than talk.

“Step back, jackass,” Soren threatened the man. He grasped Gioia. “Do you wanna get out of here?” he asked her.

She nodded, her brow creased with worry. Soren tossed a hundred on the table to cover the meal. With Wes still stammering about needing to see her, and with the wait staff echoing the same sentiment, Soren spirited Gioia away.

The next morning, Soren paced in his brother’s office at the lodge. While Ryland sat at his desk, his fingers steepled in front of his face, Soren wore a hole in the floor. “You need to kick him out of here…this Wes.”

“Bro, would you please stop pacing? You’re making me feel sick now.”

Soren halted for a second and then resumed pacing.

Ryland huffed his frustration. “Look, my security has spoken with Wes Clementine. He’s promised he won’t cause a fuss, and he’ll stay away from Gioia.”

“Promises,” Soren stammered. He was ready to pull his hair out. “What if he’s a sex fiend or…something?”

“Like you, you mean?” Ryland’s shoulders lifted and fell in a silent laugh.

Soren shook his head, the farthest he’d ever been from amused. “This is your resort. You need to do something to make sure she’s safe from all the blue-balled men around here. And I want Clementine checked out.”

“I called in a favor with Drew, my friend on the police force. He did a background check on the man. He’s clean. Not even a speeding ticket to his name. Nothing to indicate he’s a violent deviant in any way.”

“That means nothing. What if her pheromone drives one of these men crazy with the need to mate with her?”

Ryland got red in the face, clearly at a loss. “I’ve told security to watch her. And before you ask, yes, I assigned my
mated
guards to watch her. They won’t be affected by her scent. They’ll make sure no one gets too close. Okay?”

Soren dropped into a chair, feeling the slump of his shoulders as if cinder blocks were sitting on them. “This is a madhouse.” He chewed his bottom lip. “Thanks for posting Lloyd outside her room last night, by the way. I appreciated having one of your
mated
guards there.”

Ryland grinned. “Yeah, well, there probably wasn’t any need with you hovering outside her suite.”

“You noticed?”

“With the way you were pacing, everyone in the wing had to notice.” He arched a brow in his direction. “So, I suppose this means you’ve accepted Gioia is your mate?”

“No.”
Yes. No. Sort of. Oh, hell
. “This is new to me. Don’t pressure me.”

Ryland deadpanned, “Right. I wouldn’t want to intimidate the big, old bear. Look, Soren. I can appreciate you’ve always been the irresponsible younger brother and that your lifestyle provides you with endless self-indulgence and pieces of ass. But I’m telling you, if you even suspect Gioia might be your mate, you’ll need to grow up fast. Because frankly, that woman will want a man in her life, not another boy. And if you plan to act on this, you’ll need to tell her about the pheromone thing. For her safety.”

“It’s just so fast,” Soren mused, mystified. The emotions swirling around in his gut were unlike any he’d ever felt. He didn’t know whether to feel sick or enraged or grateful. And his fucked-up cock wouldn’t give him a moment’s peace. Every time he so much as caught the scent of her peach vanilla shampoo and her skin, he wanted to pounce on her and make her his. Everything in his body was clenched, poised. Shit, even his teeth hurt. He was no better than the randy waiters.

“That’s how it is with our people. I fought it with Lia too. But when I was with her, everything seemed right. And when I stopped fighting, everything made sense.”

Soren shook his head. “I never wanted this.”

Ryland chuckled softly. “No. But maybe you needed it.”

He glared at his brother. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you? You could try to love my agony a little less.”

Ry leaned back in his chair, hands folded behind his head, smiling from ear to ear. “Not a chance.”

“Fuck this. I’m outta here.” Soren stood just as the office door opened. When he saw the woman who walked in, he had to pretend he had something in his eye so it wasn’t so obvious they were bugging out of his head.

“Mr. Snow, I’ve brought you those customer service survey results you asked for.”

Ryland took a pile of papers from the woman. “Thanks, Marci.”

Marci? No way
. “Marci who used to be the front desk clerk?” Soren asked, his voice rising on each syllable. He stared at the vision. The last time he’d seen Marci, only a few short weeks ago, she’d been a meek, mousey creature with braces and the worst lisp in the world. What had happened?

Several amazing things from what he could see. The braces had come off, leaving her with a gleaming set of straight teeth. She’d shot up a couple of inches too, and her body was somehow more feminine, with curves in all the right places. Her formerly mousey hair was cut in a new style that swung around her face and showed off flattering highlights. Her skin had cleared up, a perfect complement to expertly applied makeup. Quite the stunning, young woman, indeed.

She eyed Soren through half-closed lids and licked her rouged lips. “I finally shifted for the first time a few weeks ago. All these changes started happening in my body.” She caressed her hip with the tawdry sex appeal of a pole dancer. “I guess shifting agrees with me.”

Hell, he suspected warring nations would agree with her she was so hot now. He scratched his head. “Uh, congrats on your promotion, Marci.”

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.”