by Rosanna Leo
Soren’s hand gripped her thigh. This had to be killing him. She laced her fingers with his, not losing sight of the inconvenient fact that her heart was still hammering out of her chest for him.
“I haven’t had…an episode for a long time. The Merciers, the people I stayed with, made me drink a lot of sage tea, among other things. They even used it in cleansing ceremonies. They said it’d drive away the evil spirits from my soul. I know it sounds like horseshit, but I haven’t had a relapse.”
“And how did you find Gioia here?” Soren asked.
One side of Paul’s lips curled up in the hint of a grin. “Oh, come on, Mr. Snow. You’re a shifter too. You know we can be resourceful when we want to be.” He stared at Gioia. “Anyway, there’s more I have to tell you. About…”
“You know what really bugs me?” Soren said, interrupting. “You come out of nowhere and think you can just pick up where you left off.” Soren stood, planting himself in front of her chair and presenting Paul with his wall of a chest.
Paul stood, just as big, his temper simmering just as effectively. “She’s my wife.”
Soren grinned. “But she’s my mate. You forgot to mark her, remember?”
“Don’t do this,” Gioia begged, a hand on her brow.
“Oh, I can do this,” Paul threatened.
“Bring it on,” Soren retorted, steam practically coming from his nostrils.
As Paul sucked in an angry breath, Gioia thrust herself in front of Soren and called for Ryland’s help. As he and Lia piled into the room, she addressed the two men in her life. “I will not have this…this Alpha male posturing, so you can both forget about a pissing contest!” She turned to Soren, wanting to shake him for making this about marks and all that macho crap, as much as she wanted to slap Paul for thinking he could just walk in and take her back. “You aren’t two little boys fighting over a dump truck in the sand box. There are lives and feelings at stake here, not to mention a young boy who still has no clue his dead father is alive.” She swiped at her angry tears. She whipped around to face Paul. “How dare you? How dare you think you could just sweep back into my life? And Soren, you may have marked me, but Paul did too in his way. And last I checked, neither of you owns me!”
Cursing her mess of a life and wanting to disappear from all the men in her life, she fled the room. She had to find Gunnar before Paul did.
* * * *
Soren followed her to the conference room. Gunnar was already in there, trying out a new drum riff. His mom was begging him to listen to her for a second.
“Gunnar, put down your sticks,” Gioia said. “This is important.”
The kid, totally in the zone, kept playing.
“Gunnar,” Soren said. “Stop for a second.”
Gioia turned to him. “I’ll handle this! Leave me alone, Soren. I’ve had enough of territorial men for a while.”
“I’m not leaving you alone while he’s out there!”
“I can handle myself around him.”
“Which is why you ran off, right?”
As she glared at him, Gunnar decided to pipe up. “Who are you talking about?”
Gioia moved closer to him, sidling up to him as if approaching a predator whose cage door was hanging open and he didn’t know it yet. “Gunn, there’s something you need to know about your father. I don’t know how to tell you this, but…”
There was a crashing sound outside the conference room. Paul burst in, followed by Ryland and Lia. “I just want to see my son!” Paul shouted. He stopped short inside the door and gazed upon Gunnar. “Hey, champ. It’s me. I’m okay.”
Gunnar took one panic-stricken look at his very lively dad and shouted in fear. No doubt stressed to the max, he gave into his bear, shifting before them all and causing yet another outfit to end in tatters. A huffing, wounded bear Gunnar loped to the back of the room and huddled in the corner, as far from the ghost of his dad as possible.
Soren was next to him in a flash, his hand on the bear boy’s massive shoulder. “Remember what I taught you, Gunnar. You can control your feelings. I know this situation is severely fucked up, but just breathe and listen to your mom. You need to hear this.”
Paul pulled away from Ryland, his eyes blazing in anger and what had to be some level of self-hatred. He ran up to Soren and Gunnar. “Get your hand off my son, Snow!”
Soren glared at him. “You don’t tell me what to do. What’s wrong with you, bursting in here like this? Couldn’t you give the kid a minute to hear his mother out?”
Paul bit his bottom lip so hard he broke the skin. He swallowed the blood. “I just wanna see my son. I just want to explain.”
Gunnar turned his muzzle into the corner of the room, moaning like an injured animal who’d sought out the spot to curl up and die.
Soren touched the bear’s back. “It’s gonna be okay, Gunnar. I promise.”
Paul exploded, his nerves so clearly on edge already. “You don’t get to promise my kid anything. You hear me?” He grabbed Soren by the elbow and tossed him into the middle of the large room.
Soren went flying right into his drum kit, sending cymbals and drums of varying sizes scattering across the floor. He watched in shock as his prized bass drum rolled over to where Paul was standing. With a malicious grin, Paul raised his booted foot and brought it down on the drum, smashing the well-loved skin. In seconds, the man had destroyed his most prized possession, the drum that symbolized his work and achievements. Soren stared at the broken flaps which used to be part of a beautiful wintery scene. Even his signature hung in tatters from the expensive birch shells.
From somewhere behind him, he heard Gioia gasp. Ryland whispered, “Soren, don’t.”
Too late.
Soren got on his knees and allowed his body to shift, bringing forth his infuriated polar bear. He knew Paul had issues, but no one, and he meant no one, trashed his drums and got away with it. And if Paul thought he could just drop in and collect his family, Soren’s family, well, he had another think coming.
He’d hurt them long enough.
Soren reared up on his hind legs, relishing in the stretch of his animal muscles, and roared. As he’d expected, Paul let out his own anguished cry and shifted into his brown bear. The two bears charged at each other. As they grappled, well-matched in size and strength, Soren found he was grateful for the opportunity to let out his frustrations on the man who’d hurt Gioia.
Damn, pummeling Paul Clementine felt way too good to be healthy.
If only the other bear weren’t quite so capable a brawler. They both stood, front paws clamped onto each other’s shoulders and snapped at each other. Soren wanted nothing more than to taste the man’s blood, and it seemed Paul was equally hungry for his.
Out of the corner of his eye, Soren was aware of movement in the room. Before he knew it, Ryland had shifted, followed by Lia. Their bears circled him and Paul, waiting for things to get out of hand, watching for the moment when they might have to intervene. It seemed to Soren in that moment the room was filled with the sound of ursine blood pumping. It echoed in his ears, drowning out the sounds of a still-wailing Gunnar bear in the corner.
All of a sudden, Gioia ran into the middle of the room. Little Gioia, little human Gioia, took up a spot amidst all those growling bears and let out an angry shriek. “Enough!”
It was a piercing, pitiful sound, and she succeeded in getting everyone’s attention. Soren let go of Paul, and his adversary did the same.
Poor Gunnar shifted back into his terrified human form and ran to his mom. She grabbed one of the extra towels Soren kept in the room to mop up his sweat during practice and threw it around her boy’s waist.
Gunnar eyed Soren from the comfort of his mom’s arms. “Please don’t kill my dad.”
Soren’s heart fell. It dropped right through the floor and kept falling until it reached Australia and landed in an Aussie toilet. He shifted back, and the others all did the same, following him in quick succession. “I’m sorry, Gunnar.�
�� He looked at Gioia, desperate not to lose his mate. Feeling as if she were already slipping through his fingers. “Gioia…”
She took turns glaring at him and Paul, but it was on Soren that her disappointed gaze finally rested. Her rage sliced into him, as fatally cutting as Paul’s teeth would have been. “Stay away from us. I mean it,” she warned on a whisper.
He stepped toward her. “Baby…”
“No! You don’t get to call me that anymore, neither of you,” she warned. “I’m taking my son and getting off this goddamned island. Today. I don’t want to see either of you animals ever again.”
With that, she turned and fled with Gunnar. And Soren wove in his spot, stricken by the worst pain he’d ever experienced. But also knowing, come hell or high water, his mate was not getting away from him.
The knowledge was the only thing that stopped him from chasing after her. He’d let her go, for now, and would let her think she had the upper hand. Yes, he regretted getting physical with Paul, if only because it hurt her and her son. But he knew in his heart that separating from him would only hurt her more. They were mates, and not just bear mates, but soul mates. He couldn’t lose her.
And he knew exactly how to keep her.
With a small smile, Soren turned to his drum kit and picked up the fallen instruments.
Chapter 12
Gioia stomped around her room, throwing her clothes into their two worn suitcases. She scratched her head, wondering why the cases seemed less full than when their retreat started. Of course, her son had destroyed a couple of outfits.
Bears.
Stubborn, territorial, greedy bears. She was done with the lot of them. Well, not Gunnar. It wasn’t his fault he was one.
She tossed her set of white lace underwear into the luggage, and her mind drifted toward Soren, as it always seemed prone to do.
Damn. Why was her heart hurting so much? She clutched her chest and gave it a vigorous rub, but it didn’t deaden the pain. The low, hungry throb in her chest cavity was already getting the better of her, making her want to seek relief in his arms.
“Forget him,” she muttered, knowing she might as well forget her own name or eye color.
She was having trouble picturing her eye color at the moment, oddly enough, but could envision Soren’s startlingly blue gaze. In her mind’s eye, she could see every detail of his cerulean irises, streaked as they were with fine lines of white, making them seem to shine. It was as easy to remember as the feel of his strong arms around her and the sensation of his strength moving between her legs.
She would never forget him.
She loved him.
Placing one of her blouses in the luggage, she raised an absent-minded finger to her cheek, the one he’d bitten. How could she leave him bearing his stamp? Her bones were already creaking, crying to be returned to him.
No. She had to concentrate on her son now, and only on him. Gunnar had been her focus in coming to this lodge, and she never should have lost sight of it. She’d been star-struck, just like him, and it made her weak. His attentions had flattered her and messed with her normally sensible mind.
God, it had been so hard talking to Gunnar about Paul. The poor kid had been convinced he’d seen a wraith in the conference room. When she broke the news about Paul’s resurrection from the dead, she’d seen relief flit across his features, but also sadness at being ignored by his dad for so many months. She’d tried to explain Paul’s predicament, but it didn’t make sense coming out of her own lips. Every response she gave Gunnar just sounded like another question.
As Soren had said, the situation was “severely fucked up.” There may have been more eloquent ways to put it, but none more effective.
And where did they go now? Were they supposed to prance into the sunset with a father and husband they thought they knew? Or was she supposed to pick up with Soren, the man she desired above everything, and pretend Paul didn’t exist? Or was she supposed to run from both of them and start anew? Each option gave her a headache.
Gunnar had suffered from his own massive headache after hearing the news. She’d given him some ibuprofen and he’d fallen asleep, unready to deal with his father. Even from her part of the suite, she could hear his deep breathing.
Good. At least one of them would sleep tonight.
There was a knock at her door. Gioia froze and stared at it.
It was Soren, she just knew it. She could almost hear his steady heartbeat from behind the wooden barrier. She padded over to it in her bare feet and listened for movement on the other side.
There was a low huff and then a soft growl. And then his voice, deep and demanding. “Gioia. Open the door before I tear it off its hinges.”
“Bossy bastard,” she muttered, making no move to reach for the handle.
She heard his quiet laugh, so full of evil promise. “Oh, you have no idea. Open it.”
She wanted to ignore him but knew he’d kick it in. She wanted to stomp and swear at him and shoot him with Ryland’s tranquilizer gun, but she hadn’t really planned ahead and pilfered the weapon. She couldn’t let him in. She knew exactly what would happen if she did and couldn’t give him the satisfaction. Soren would love it too much, the demanding beast.
“Gioia,” he threatened.
She stared at the door. Well, she couldn’t have him destroying Ryland’s nice resort, could she? Frowning at her clear weakness, she unlocked the door and turned the handle.
As soon as the door cracked open, Soren slid in on a wave of needy energy. He dug his fingers into her hair, reached behind him to lock the door and pressed her up against the nearest wall. His lips met hers, nipping and biting in near madness, and she fought to catch her breath. As the first whimper, a patent sign of her weakness, escaped her, he smoothed his hand up her torso and tweaked her nipples through her clothing. Agonized delight hurtled through her body, as much as she wanted to hate him. “Get off me.”
“No.” He twisted her nipple with an agonizing beauty.
Fuck nuggets! He felt too good. She needed him, craved so much more of him. Inside her and all over her.
Now.
They fell apart as he whispered her name. Gazing at her with such crazed want, Soren placed one hand over her heart and one on her marked cheek. “Tell me you can live without me and I’ll go.”
Gioia closed her eyes and tried to articulate the words, but they would not come. She wasn’t capable of uttering such a vicious falsehood.
He leaned in and feathered his tongue over the spot on her cheek where his teeth had left their invisible imprint. “Tell me you don’t want me. Tell me your heart doesn’t pump in time with mine. Tell me I don’t drench your pussy with desire.”
“I can’t,” she said, ruing the truth of her statement.
He wound his arm around her waist and pulled her flush against him. His cock slammed against her belly. His lips brushed against hers in a kiss so tender and so at odds with his other urgent motions. “Tell me you don’t love me as much as I love you.”
Her heart almost stopped. She could feel it seize in her chest and lurch once more, straining to catch up to its regular rhythm. “You don’t love me, Soren. You just think you do.”
His eyes, so beautiful with their tapered corners and azure depths, crinkled as if he didn’t understand her words. “How can you say that? I love you with everything in me, Gioia. I adore you.”
Really?
“Well,” she murmured, shaking her head. She stared at his chest, taken by staggering emotion, and then slowly looked back up at his face. “I thought you were driven by the mate bond, that you were with me because there was no choice. I never dreamed there was any real feeling behind it. It’s not as if you chose me, Soren. Your bear did.”
“That’s bullshit. My bear might have been on the ball a little sooner than I was, but don’t kid yourself that there’s no choice involved. From the first moment, I wanted to run to you.” He reached for her hands and enfolded them in his larger ones. “You�
�re the only real thing in my life. The rest is artificial and superfluous. You’re all I need.”
“Oh, Soren,” she cried. “God help me, I love you too.”
She saw the tick in his jaw as he clenched his teeth and noticed how his eyes grew wet. He blinked hard and frowned at her, clearly overcome. Even still, that wonderful frown was worth a thousand smiles because it belonged to Soren, and he loved her.
He pulled her in tight, practically smothering her in his embrace. His tongue found her neck, and then his teeth did, gently nibbling. She could lose herself in his kisses as easily as sliding into a welcoming, hot pool. But life wasn’t as simple as that. Her husband was out there. “Wait, Paul…”
“Look,” he said, his angelic face reddening like a devil. “I can’t lose you to Paul. I won’t. And if I need to fight to the death over you, I will.” He laid his forehead against hers. “I would give my life to keep you and Gunnar safe.”
“I’m just so confused,” she admitted. “Paul was my husband. And if he’s really better, do I have the right to keep him out of my life? He was never a bad man, just broken.”
“I don’t think he’s fixed, Gioia. Not by a long shot. Not because some stranger poured sage tea down his gullet.”
“But…”
“No buts. Do you still love him? Because that’s what it comes down to.” He stared at her, his stark gaze challenging her, waiting for an answer.
Did she love him? Paul was her first passion, the sweet bear shifter who’d swept her off her feet with his rugged good looks and dark secret. When he’d trusted her with that secret, he’d opened up a new world to her. She hadn’t run from him; she’d wanted to join him in that world, but due to circumstances she didn’t understand, she’d never fully become part of it. And then he’d begun to change into a frightening man she no longer recognized. Without knowing so, she’d begun to erect walls then, for her safety as well as Gunnar’s. She’d detached herself from Paul, emotionally and mentally, remaining with him because of the love they once shared.
