by Rosanna Leo
He released a pent-up breath. “Then let me know you better, little owl.”
Little owl? “If you hate the specs, I’m sorry,” she said, wanting to frown and giggle at the same time. “I need to see.”
He brushed his lips against hers, his tongue tracing the seam with leisure. “Your specs get in my way, and they hide too much of your face. But, strangely enough, I find them as sexy as the rest of you.”
And while Gioia stood shivering in his wake, Soren embraced her, engulfing her in a huge bear hug. He sighed and pulled away with the labored motions of one whose body was not in accordance with his brain. His hands then smoothed down over her hips, tugging her skirt back over her thighs. He patted her bum. “I want to know everything, Gioia.”
Everything. It was a tall order.
*
He led her to the spot where the moss was thickest. As much as Soren was dying inside, he knew this was something he didn't want to rush. He'd touched his mate, intimately, and he could smell her juices on his fingers. Blood coursed through his body, a veritable wave of emotion, and pounded a path into his brain. Her scent felt like home. With her, he felt home. Even still, he didn't want her to regret a single moment with him. He'd take it slowly so she could unburden herself.
But when he took her, and he would, he would claim her heart and soul. He'd ruin her to the point of never needing to look at another man. He'd make sure he was her everything, as she had somehow become to him.
Gioia might not realize it yet, but she was his.
He sat on the mossy bed, leaning back against a fallen log, and pulled her onto his lap. She didn't move off him. He allowed one of his hands to snake over the curve of her plump thigh in a territorial grip while stroking the small of her back with the other. She leaned into his caress, and he urged her to talk to him.
"Once Gunnar turned a certain age," she began, "of course, he noticed Paul's quirks. And for years, that's all they were, quirks."
"Mood swings? Bad temper?"
She nodded. "For a long time, I swept it under the rug. After all, Paul wasn't hurting anybody, and I learned to maneuver around his flare-ups. In the beginning, he never behaved in a threatening manner, not to me or to Gunnar. Everything escalated over the past couple of years. Back when Gunnar was around ten or eleven, we went through a rough patch with his dad. I started sending Gunnar to spend time at Wes' place. He did a lot of sleepovers. Paul was more erratic, and I didn't want our son to be around him."
Soren stroked up to her head, massaging her scalp. "But what about you?"
"I wasn't worried about me. I was convinced Paul would never hurt me, that I was the only person who could talk him down from his ledge."
As Soren squeezed her thigh in nervous anticipation, she laid a hand on his. He knew what she was going to say, could just feel it, but he was still on edge waiting to hear her speak the words. "Gioia…"
"The first time he just shook me," she said in a small voice, her eyes glassy behind her lenses. "He just put his hands on my arms and gave me a good rattle. He was angry I'd sent our son to Wes’ for the day. Within two minutes, he was smiling and asking what I'd like for lunch."
"Shit."
"The next time, more of the same. It happened a few more times. And then one day when Gunnar happened to be home watching TV, Paul smacked me because he was convinced I'd hidden the TV remote. I froze. Gunnar froze. And Paul just stood there staring at me. His eyes looked dead. He blinked, and then he asked if we wanted to go get ice cream. It was surreal, and I knew he wasn’t aware of his actions. It became easy for me to convince myself each episode was just a weird dream."
"I'm sorry, angel. I wish I could go back and fix it for you." As much as he understood Paul had been sick, Soren wanted to throttle the man.
She looked at him, and her face reddened. With the need to lose herself in him, he hoped. "Thank you."
"What happened after that?"
"Gunnar was there the next time Paul got physical with me. I could see how scared he was. Paul had pushed me up against a wall in a rage. Gunnar, skinny kid that he was, put his hands on his dad. He warned Paul not to touch me again." She frowned, caught up in the scene in her head. "Paul came to his senses and let me go. And then one day not long after, he did attack me. He bashed my head against the wall, and as he did, he shifted. It had never happened before. Suddenly I had an enormous brown bear in my face and his claws on my throat."
The scene was so vivid in his mind Soren almost closed his eyes to banish it, knowing full well it would haunt him forever anyway.
"For the first time in his life, my son shifted. His body seemed to burst open, and he became a bear too. He was smaller than Paul but hadn’t learned how to contain his aggression. He roared at his father. Paul, in his changed state, wasn't thinking straight, either. He lunged at me, and Gunnar attacked him." Her dry eyes were red as she stared ahead, unseeing. “There was blood everywhere. Paul shifted back and somehow ran out the door and got away. I don’t even know how he found the strength. His wounds were horrible. We searched and searched but couldn’t find him. His trail just…disappeared. A few days later, a body was found outside town, mauled and unrecognizable. The only way I could identify him was by the bear tattoo on his arm.”
“Oh, Gioia.”
"Gunnar attacked his father to save me. And he's never been the same. He withdrew and withdrew, and I know he's consumed with guilt. Of course, no one blamed him, but I can only imagine the remorse he carries around. Today in the counseling session, that kid, Mike, made a comment about Gunnar being a freak and Gunnar snapped. And I’m so scared he’ll do it again and again. That he’ll hurt someone else.”
She looked down at her lap. Soren watched as her tears plopped onto her exposed thighs. “Hey,” he whispered. “We won’t let it come to that. We’re going to help him control his impulses.” He wiped her legs, smoothing the tears away.
She looked up at him and sniffled. She waved a hand between the two of them. “I’m not sure what’s going on here, between you and me, but I can’t deal with it right now. Not when Gunnar needs me.” She made a face, and he knew she was remembering how she’d placed his hand on her pussy. “What I did before…I shouldn’t have done it. I can’t do it again.”
Soren had to take a long, deep breath and clear his head. He wanted nothing more than to take this woman and plunge into her sweet heat, to claim her and put his scent on her. To warn off every goddamn unmated male in the freaking Western Hemisphere, never mind Gemini Island.
But for once in his life, he had to put someone else first. He would do it for Gioia and her boy.
“I understand what you’re saying.” As much as it physically pained him, he helped her off his lap and stood with her. “I’m going to do my best to help your son, Gioia. But let’s get one thing clear. This thing that’s happening between us? It will happen. And you’re going to love it as much as I will.”
And before her lust-struck look totally did him in, he took her hand and led her back to the lodge.
* * * *
Soren found Gunnar soon afterward, licking the caramel off his fingers like a baby bear licking honey off his paw. He smiled at the kid as a weird paternal warmth heated his gut. He wanted to help the boy, and not just because he needed to sleep with his mother like it was nobody’s business. He wanted Gunnar to find his inner strength and confidence and wanted to be the one who helped him find it.
He nodded at Wes. “Gioia said I could borrow the little dude for a while.”
Cousin bear frowned, his thick eyebrows meeting in the deep crease between them. Wes glanced at a nodding Gunnar and consented. “All right. If Gioia says so.” He stood and meandered down to the fishing area.
Just then, Gioia and Lia walked by, and Soren called them over. “Girls, come and watch. I’m going to teach Gunnar how to fight like a man.”
Gunnar’s eyes popped. He nodded vigorously, like a rubber ball colliding with the pavement.
Gioia put up a
hand. “Uh, Soren, do you think that’s wise?”
“You bet. Knowing how to fight is not just about going on the offensive. It’s also about knowing how to control yourself. Gunnar needs to learn this, and frankly Gioia, every shifter needs to learn how to fight for himself and others.” He turned to Gunnar. “We’re gonna make a man of you today, little dude.”
He led the group down to the beach and picked a quiet alcove sheltered by trees. Lia and Gioia sat on the sand and whispered to each other. He shot Gioia a comforting smile, wanting her to understand he wouldn’t do anything to hurt her boy. The umber warmth in her eyes gave him the confidence to continue.
He turned to Gunnar, who had his drumsticks tucked in his jeans pocket. “Those sticks are pretty shitty. Who bought them? Your mother?”
Gunnar’s voice reverberated with a confused growl.
Gioia piped up. “Excuse me! His mother did buy him those sticks.”
Soren turned to her. “With all due respect, I’m not talking to you right now. I’m talking to Gunnar.” He winked at her, and she settled down.
He turned a mildly interested eye back on the boy. “Dude, seriously, I kind of doubt your passion for drumming if you’re content to work with mediocre equipment. But maybe you’re okay with being a mediocre percussionist.”
Gunnar prowled toward him, his head cocked, his mouth bent in a snarl as he took the bait.
“What’s the matter, little dude? Cat got your tongue? You’re supposed to be a bear. What happened to your roar?” The young shifter glared at him, not quite as angry as Soren wanted him to be. He decided to bring out the big guns. “I’m sure you roared when you went after Mike. What did he call you, a freak?”
Gunnar let out a yell and ripped his shirt off, intending to shift. Soren watched carefully as the kid’s eyes dilated, so close to transforming. Before he could, he marched up to him and grabbed him by the arms. “Do not shift. Do you hear me? Control it!”
The boy wobbled in his arms as he fought to dominate his urges. He felt the goose bumps arise on Gunnar’s skin, threatening to open wide with thick bear fur.
“You are an Alpha male, Gunnar. Know what that means? It means you’re tough and strong and no one controls you. You are a bear, goddammit. King of the woods. Act like it.”
Soren glimpsed the brown bear in Gunnar’s eyes as it sought freedom. He let his polar bear address the other animal, making it understand the need to back down sometimes. Urging him to see violence was not always the answer, and he could win a battle with his mind just as easily as with his sharp claws and teeth. Gunnar let out a strangled cry.
“Put. The bear. Away,” Soren whispered. “You don’t need him right now.”
A shaky breath rippled through Gunnar’s frame, and he retreated into a sigh. He wiped at his sweaty face with the back of his hand and looked at his mentor. “Do you really think I’m mediocre?”
Soren felt his face break into a huge smile and let go of the now-tranquil tween. “Hell, no, little dude! You’re awesome. I was just trying to get your goat. Or your bear.” He glanced at a grinning Gioia and returned his attentions to his young charge. “When someone gets up in your face, and they will, you have to be able to take charge of the situation, Gunnar. People will always provoke you, especially humans who don’t realize what you are. They’ll sense you’re different but won’t understand why. And when they shoot off their mouths, you can’t claw their faces. You need to take a second, think of the consequences, and breathe. Your bear will always try to take over so he can protect you. You need to tell him to stay away unless it’s absolutely necessary. He doesn’t need to come out and play unless it’s a life or death situation. You can handle whatever comes your way.”
The kid’s eyes filled with tears. “It was life or death when my dad hurt my mom. But I didn’t mean to kill him.”
Soren put a hand on his head and looked him deep in the eye. “You were a damn hero that day. You saved your mother. Yes, a terrible thing happened to your dad. You did the only thing any honorable shifter would have done.”
“I did?”
Soren smiled. “You did.”
Gunnar darted a sheepish glance at his mom and walked over to where she sat with Lia. Gioia stood and met him, her arms already out to him, her eyes red. “I never blamed you, sweetie. You’re my boy.”
“You don’t hate me?”
She put her hand over her mouth and tears fell onto her fingers. She wiped them as they fell. “Gunnar, I love you more than anything.”
He fell into her arms, his thin frame trembling. “I love you too, Mom.”
Lia, her own eyes weepy, approached Soren and put an arm around his waist. “You did a good thing.”
He smiled at the Clementine family, suddenly desperate for the day when Gioia would take the Snow name. Whatever he’d done for Gunnar, it definitely felt like the best thing he’d ever accomplished. Not playing for the Queen. Not playing with Queen. None of those seemingly significant events compared to making Gioia and Gunnar smile.
Gunnar looked at his mom. “I’m so scared I’ll hurt you one day, like I hurt Dad.”
“Oh, honey,” Gioia said. “Is that why you’ve been running from me?”
He nodded.
“Gunnar,” she said on a breath. “You’re strong, and I know you’d never hurt me in a million years. We have a bond, you and I. We take care of each other, don’t we?”
He nodded again and smiled.
Soren approached their huddle and put a hand on Gunnar’s shoulder. “You do take care of your mom, kid. And I’m going to teach you to fight like a man so you can continue to take care of her. Are you with me?”
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.
Chapter 6
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 p
layed 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.”
