by Rosanna Leo
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.
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.
Chapter 4
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.”
