Predator's Kiss (2 page)

He stopped to say hello to a couple of outdoorsmen who were reading the local paper in the lobby. That was when he heard the familiar come-on. He turned to the side to see the front desk. His reception clerk Marci was practically drooling over the tall blond man who leaned on the desk in front of her. Ryland had to keep from groaning as he eyed the man from top to bottom.

Designer boots. Jeans so tight they were practically indecent. A scarf thrown oh-so-casually around his neck. So many skulls on his leather jacket, Ryland suspected a few pirate ships were missing their standards. And was that a fedora?

Soren.

“Hey, Marci,” Soren said in his smoothest I-wanna-fuck-you voice, “if I book a room with you today, what will you do to ensure my satisfaction?” He grinned at the girl and Ryland could see his teeth glint.

Marci, an innocent twenty-two-year-old with a mouth full of braces, really was dribbling a little. More than usual.

Ryland stalked over. “Soren. Harassing my staff and you haven’t even been here more than five minutes. That might be a new record.”

Soren looked at Ryland and smiled. “Big brother!” He slapped Ryland’s shoulder a couple of times, a gesture that passed as a hug among the men in their family. And then he eyeballed Ryland’s gut, as if there were something there to actually eyeball. “You packin’ on the pounds?”

Ryland felt his lips grow tight, and did his best to ease them into a grin. “I haven’t put on any weight since you bothered to show your face last. But thanks for concerning yourself with my health.”

Soren looked around the lobby, scanning the fishing trophies on the broad mantelpiece. As he turned back to Ryland, he rolled his blue eyes. “I see we’re still going for that high-class hick type of decor.”

“I’ll have you know we’re the top vacation spot for shifter families, and the biggest employer in the area.”

“Cool,” Soren responded flatly, no interest in his tone. He reached down and clutched his luggage. In his other hand, he twirled an expensive set of drumsticks that were so slick they would have made Lars Ulrich salivate. “So, have you taken my advice and built a presidential suite in this palace yet?”

Ryland turned to Marci as the girl wiped her mouth. “Marci—please put my brother in Cabin 12. Out in the woods.”

Soren started. “A cabin?” He winked at Marci. “Maybe I want to be here in the main lodge … near Mary.”

“It’s Marshee,” Marci corrected, lisping through her braces, touching the name tag that clearly listed her name as ‘Marci.’”

“You’ll stay in Cabin 12,” Ryland reiterated, brooking no opposition. He took the key from Marci. “It’s quiet there, in case you feel the need to hit something with your sticks.” He walked off, headed for the cabins, and Soren followed, waving at the smitten desk clerk.

“She’s cute and I like the braces. Just no blowjobs for now.” He cut off his brother with a hand in the air before Ryland could object. “I have to say, Ryland,” Soren teased. “I expected surly from you, but still, this is not exactly the welcoming reception you advertise in your brochure.”

Ryland stared straight ahead. “Let’s just say I’ve learned your visits are usually more trouble than they’re worth.”

Soren gasped in mock horror. “And you, my older, much, much older brother!”

“I’m thirty-four and you’re thirty-two,” Ryland replied with a sniff. “And anyway, can you blame me? On your last visit, you were accompanied by seventeen crazed fans who followed you everywhere. Nonshifters, I might add.”

“Seventeen’s not bad, considering my fan club has at least a thousand members.”

“And,” Ryland continued, not listening, “the time before that, you were stalked by that insane human woman you scorned. Remember? The one who alerted the press as to your whereabouts?”

“Yes, yes, I know. You like your privacy here. I get it.”

“I work hard to maintain our privacy.” They continued along the wooded path until they reached the clearing in front of Cabin 12. Ryland then turned to his brother and expelled a huge breath of anticipation. “So, what is it this time? Whose wife did you sleep with?”

Soren at least had the dignity to blush at his misdemeanors. “Uh, Floro Valdez.”

Ryland racked his brain. “And should I know this Flower Valdez?”

Soren gave him another of his patented eye rolls. “Not Flower, you ass. Floro Valdez, the famous conductor. Hello? Don’t you ever get out from under your rock? The man is huge in the music world.” He considered. “Unfortunately for his lovely wife, Gina, he’s also about a hundred and seven years old, four-eleven in his lifts, and can’t get it up anymore.”

“So, you decided to help her out.”

Soren frowned. “Look, Ryland, any man would have done the same thing. Gina is young and…” His eyes glazed over as he thought of her. “Uh, well, she’s really stacked. And quite desperate to scratch her itches, if you know what I mean.”

“Jesus Christ, Soren,” he muttered. “Can’t you keep it in your pants with the married ones?”

“She needed me.” Soren gave his head a solemn shake, as if he were a freaking doctor without borders, who’d just emerged from the jungle on his latest humanitarian mission. “I helped her, just as much as I helped myself. However, I have since learned that Floro Valdez is not only famous, he’s connected to some bad people.”

“Oh, for…”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure it’ll all work out in the end. I just need a place to crash until this mess blows over … and until he calls off the hit.”

“A hit?” Ryland shouted. “Are you shitting me?”

“Relax. I’m sure it won’t come to that.”

Ryland stammered in anger. “H-how do you even know this … Floro Valdez took a hit out on you?”

“Oh, I know,” Soren replied, his deep voice laced with mysterious undertones. “Word travels quickly in the orchestral community. Valdez was the conductor on my latest tour. Gina was one of the flutists. Let’s just say we had a bit of trouble remaining discreet. He, uh, came upon us one time during a quick grope behind the brass section.” He paused and whispered, “For an old dude, he sure was stealthy.”

“Soren, focus! The hit?”

“Oh yeah. Well, right there, Valdez walked up to me, gave me a kiss on both cheeks and smiled. Then he walked away. Anyone who knows him knows that’s his way of saying, ‘You’re
finito
.’ Ryland, that little old dude gave me the kiss of death.”

Ryland winced as a stab of pain shot behind his left eye. “A kiss? It might not mean anything more than this Valdez is farsighted and was aiming for his wife.”

“Look, I just know, okay?” Soren shook out his hands at his sides, as if hoping to release some tension. “The last two dudes who messed with Gina have disappeared off the face of the earth. Valdez
took care
of them and now he wants to take care of me.”

It was just like his brother to get mixed up in something like this. “Soren, this is not only my workplace, it’s my home. What were you thinking? What if you’ve led the hit man here? Almost every cabin and room at the lodge is full. There are families vacationing here. I’ve got teenagers running around for the mentoring program. Of all the irresponsible, selfish…”

“Hey,” Soren countered. “I might be a little selfish, but you’re a stick in the mud. Would it kill you to expand your horizons beyond this island? Maybe see a bit of the world? Hell, maybe sleep with a woman once in a while?”

“I sleep with women.”

“Yeah, shifters. Pardon me if I like girls who shave their legs.”

Ryland stared as fury took root in his system. Soren knew just how to push his every button and did it exceedingly well. It was like him to color his whole species with the same paintbrush. Soren liked to play the urbane, sophisticated man-about-town. He tried not to dwell on his shifter heritage, finding that side of his nature distasteful, almost barbaric. He couldn’t have people thinking he had animal urges anywhere outside the bedroom, could he? “You’re so disrespectful of what you are.”

“And you refuse to progress, Ryland!” Soren eyed him up and down, little flashes of red flaring on his cheeks. “And would it kill you to wear something other than plaid flannel? Paul Bunyan is spinning in his grave. He wants his shirt back. It’s not a good look for you.”

Ryland looked down at his worn henley shirt, jeans, and hiking boots. He knew Soren was trying to get a rise out of him. It was working. Suddenly, the animal in him wanted out. He just wanted to pummel his brother for using his cock more than his brain. And for making fun of a perfectly good shirt. “What kind of shifter are you anyway?” Ryland circled, his adrenaline coursing. “You probably haven’t shifted in years. Think you still can?”

That was all it took. Soren was leery about giving in to his inner bear, but he was still a competitive son of a bitch. Within seconds, their clothing was ripped to shreds as both men allowed their bodies to undergo the change. Ryland relished the satisfying pull of his skin stretching as his grizzly self-manifested. Through dilated pupils, he watched in amazement as Soren shifted too, becoming a huge polar bear.

Okay, maybe having it out like this was a bit extreme, but he wouldn’t deny a big part of him really wanted a piece of his self-centered brother. How many times had he been forced to clean up after Soren? How many times had he been compelled to make excuses for him? Well, no more. Soren needed to see the repercussions of his actions. And he needed to be shown by a hard, pissed-off grizzly bear.

With a roar, Ryland lumbered toward him, teeth bared. It would be a formidable battle. For although Ryland was a natural-born fighter, Soren was no less imposing. And in their shifted forms, they were both enormous. They both had the muscle power.

And, on some level, both had been waiting for this.

But before they could make contact, there was a noise in the woods behind the cabin. A shuffling—no—a desperate pounding on the ground. As if someone was running in their direction, running in fear.

What was that?
asked Soren, using the telepathy common to their kind.

How the hell should I know?
Ryland replied, his anger still high.

I smell human woman, not another bear,
said Soren.

What would you know about bears? You turned your back on your own kind years ago.

The pounding got closer, accompanied by the sound of a woman gasping for air. Ryland felt a strange foreboding, a prickle of unease. What was a nonshifter doing on Gemini Island? He went to great pains to ensure his resort was only patronized by shifters. Still, if it was a human, they’d better shift back or they’d terrify her. From the racing beat of her heart, she was already frantic.

There was no time to shift. She was almost upon them. Ryland glanced at Soren and they both then scanned the veil of trees.

Chapter 2

Lia Goodblood was in pain. The worst she’d ever felt in her thirty-one years.

Man, I need to get off my ass more and join a spin class
.

A searing, white-hot torment stitched up her side as she ran. She’d never moved her body so much in her entire life as she did racing through these damned trees. Her breathing had become so shallow, she almost felt blinded. Still, she knew she had to keep going or he’d find her.

He may have already found her.

She had to get away. She had to escape. There was no way she could live like this anymore. She couldn’t write, could barely think with her “super fan” and the rest of the world breathing down her neck. Clutching her backpack, she kept moving.

If only her escape route hadn’t led her into the forest. God, she hated the outdoors with all its creepy-crawlies and strange fuzzy things. With every step she took, she made sure not to brush up against any sojourning squirrels. When a large bunny hopped in front of her, she had to force the bile back down her throat. To anyone else, it might just look like a fluffy rabbit, but to her, its proportions were grotesque, unnatural.

She kept running so the thing wouldn’t mistake her ankle for a carrot.

Lia could make out the light of a clearing between the trees and forced her aching body toward it. Maybe there was an abandoned house nearby, one she could crawl into and die.

She pushed through the bushes in front of her and stopped in her tracks. She wasn’t alone after all.

There were two enormous bears ahead, staring at her. A black one and, strangely enough, a polar bear. The big fellow seemed a long way from home.

Oh, shit! This was so worse than what she was running from.

As searing panic set in, her tongue dried out and felt like a useless lump in the cavity of her mouth. Hateful chills infested each limb, making every hair on her body stand out. She knew it was ridiculous, this irrational fear of animals. However, ever since “the incident” when she was a kid, Lia hadn’t been able to look at a mammal without prickly fear taking hold.

And these weren’t your average fuzzy woodland creatures. These were bears … like, the person-eating kind.

As Lia’s jaw fell open, she desperately tried to recall everything her summer camp counselors ever told her about what to do if you meet a bear in the forest. Was she supposed to lie down and play dead? Was she supposed to make herself appear larger and howl at them? Or was she just supposed to hightail her fat novelist ass out of there?

She couldn’t remember.

In the split second she stared at them, they seemed to assess her in return. The black one actually looked guarded, his dark eyes wide. And if she didn’t know any better, the polar bear seemed to be grinning at her tits.

Clearly, she was losing it.

Her body took over, and without really considering the consequences, Lia quickly picked up the nearest stick and threw it at her hairy adversaries. It clunked the black one on its head, not hurting him in any way. The bear gawked at her and expelled what appeared to be a huff of surprise.

Oh, no! Don’t piss them off, you moron!

There was only one plan of action racing through her frazzled brain now. Screaming seemed appropriate.

Shaking in terror, Lia dropped her backpack, let her mouth fall wide open, and did her best to scream her head off.