Predator's Kiss (8 page)

In that second, Lia forgot to breathe. She eventually found her voice and knew she needed to say something to ease the obvious sexual tension. “I don’t think you dress funny.” Indeed, she wanted nothing more than to run her fingers over his soft plaid shirt, and get at the hard plane of his chest underneath.

Ryland took a step toward her, his gaze focused. Predatory, but in a very good way.

He took the plate of fried fish out of her hands and set it on a picnic table. He then grabbed her hand and pulled her to the makeshift dance floor set up by the water’s edge. “Dance with me.”

The hitch in her breathing was obvious to her, and she prayed it wasn’t apparent. “Okay.”

He led her to the dance floor, right in front of where the band was set up. The musicians finished playing a quick country song and launched into a melodic ballad. Ryland gazed at her, his face inscrutable, without a hint of a smile on his face. And as much as she wanted to tickle him, just to see him smile again, the expression he bore made her want to peel. The way his eyes narrowed on her made her imagine her very clothing wanted to roll right off her skin. He pulled her in against his hard body and leaned over to make up for their almost comical height difference. He was over a full head taller than she was and bigger than her in every other way. And while dancing with him should have felt awkward, Lia couldn’t help feeling their bodies fit together like puzzle pieces. He slid one arm around her waist, holding her other hand in his. He began to sway and she followed.

He leaned farther in and she didn’t pull away. His breath danced over the exposed skin of her neck, and she found herself wishing she could feel it all over her body. That she could lie back and relish the sensation of his hot breath on her nipples, her stomach, between her legs.

Oh, God. Don’t go there, Lia
.

She realized she ought to say something, anything, just to stop herself from attacking him in lust. “So, I hear you like the circus,” she blurted out.

Oh, no, you didn’t
. Why did she bring that up?

Ryland frowned. “Where did you hear that?”

It wasn’t the reaction of a grief-stricken man who was weeping inside. Suddenly, everything seemed a little clearer. She breathed in and out. “Soren.”

Ryland’s eyebrows twisted in about three different directions, such was his surprise. “What the hell?”

“He told me about your girlfriend,” she said softly. “He also told me she died in a trapeze accident.”

Ryland blinked a few times, his mouth open. “That little shit. He’s just stirring up trouble.”

“Why would he do that?”

He spoke in a low, unamused voice. “Because my brother lives to cause trouble.” He then chortled. “A trapeze artist. That’s a new one. On his last visit here, he told a female visitor I was a leper. Every time I asked about her accommodations, she ran from me, her hand over her nose and mouth.”

In spite of herself, Lia burst into laughter. And within a few seconds, Ryland did too.

She liked laughing with Ryland. Liked it a lot. And she liked dancing with him in a way she’d never liked anything before.

The musicians hit the cadence of the song with a flourish from the fiddles and Ryland stopped moving. He stared intently, as if he didn’t quite know what to do with her. And Lia did everything in her power not to fall to the ground with her jellyfish legs.

Luckily, or unluckily, he was holding her tightly.

“You’re a good dancer,” she whispered.

“Lia,” he murmured. He lowered his head.

Her heart commenced a pounding so forceful she was sure he must feel it through their layers of clothing.

Soren chose that moment to reappear, his leather-jacketed arms laden with paper dishes full of sausages on buns and homemade french fries. “Check it out, Lia. I come bearing gifts, sweetheart!”

Ryland stepped back, breaking contact, and looked away. Again, he looked peeved. And Lia realized she was feeling a little peeved herself. What was she thinking? There was no use entertaining thoughts of sleeping with Ryland. She was on the run. And if her experience with men had demonstrated anything to her, it was they were usually just interested in her as some sort of fantasy plaything for freaks.

Soren put all his culinary packages down on the nearest picnic table and walked over to her as Ryland watched. “Baby doll, I think I deserve a hug after carrying all that deep-fried goodness to you.”

And before she knew what was happening, Soren engulfed her in a big bear hug. Dazed, she realized it really
was
a big bear hug. He ran his hands up and down her back, and then relaxed his hold a bit. He looked at her, grinned, and brought his lips to hers.

Somewhere behind them, a camera flash went off, illuminating the dark sky.

Shocked, she and Soren turned toward the source of the flash. Just as shocked, Ryland gawked at Soren. “You kissed her!”

“He certainly did!”

Lia stared at the man who’d made the last exclamation. She knew him. She’d know that smug smile and fox-like stare anywhere. Harry Little from
The Examiner
. One of the paparazzi who’d been hounding her. “No.”

“Ciao, Lia, babe. You’re a slippery little thing.”

“Why won’t you just leave me alone?”

Little shrugged, still snapping photos from a distance even though her hands were raised in front of her face. “Because right now you’re hot. Don’t worry, princess. As soon as the next Hollywood starlet gets a DUI, you’ll be yesterday’s news.” He took a few steps back.

Ryland gaped at her and at Little as he quickly connected the pieces. “This is one of the little shits who’s been stalking you?”

But before she could answer, Little disappeared into the woods. All they heard was his taunting voice calling back to them. “Lia Goodblood and Soren Snow together! I’ll tell the world about your tawdry affair and about your little love nest!”

Soren blanched and grabbed Ryland’s arm. “Ry! We can’t let him.”

“Scott will find out where I am,” Lia murmured.

“I’m already on it,” Ryland grunted.

Lia listened in a muddle as she watched Ryland pull a walkie-talkie out of his pocket, one she hadn’t even realized was there. He quickly muttered some directions, presumably to his security staff. Then he turned to Soren. “Stay with Lia.”

Without another word, Ryland began tearing his shirt off and ran into the woods. Lia stared after him but couldn’t see him in the darkness. Within seconds though she heard an ominous grumble of warning.

He’d become a bear again.
Oh, God
.

Suddenly light-headed, she leaned against Soren, and he put an arm around her shoulders. “Ry will get him. Don’t worry. He knows these woods better than anyone.”

“But he’s a massive bear. Wouldn’t he be faster running as a man?”

Soren made a hum of amusement and narrowed his eyes at her. “Don’t be fooled by the cuddly exterior. Bears are deadly. We have an excellent sense of smell and we can move faster than you’d imagine.” He paused, considering. “Especially when our territory’s threatened.”

Territory? Surely he meant the fishing lodge.

Lia didn’t question Soren further. She couldn’t. Not while Ryland was out there in the pitch blackness, chasing down a sleazeball because of her. What if he got hurt in the process? What if Little was packing a weapon? It would be just like the scum to do so. She’d read that he’d pulled a knife on Sean Penn the last time the actor tried to seize his camera.

While Soren eventually sat down at the picnic table and dug into a sizable hunk of fried halibut, Lia just stood at the edge of the woods, appetite gone. Waiting for Ryland to reappear.

Chapter 6

Before another evening had passed, all hell was breaking loose at the lodge. And it was no wonder, Ryland thought bitterly. The picture of Soren kissing Lia had gone viral overnight and now the celebrity world was abuzz with the news the playboy percussionist was having an affair with the reclusive erotica author.

Ryland sat in his office, nursing a headache of monumental proportions as he stared at the footage for the hundredth time that day. His brother, wrapping Lia in his arms, the way Ryland had wanted to do. It was enough to make him sick. Without thinking, he once again clutched the bottle of Pepto he’d kept close all day.

And the worst part was he didn’t understand why it pissed him off so much. So she was pretty; so what? The world was full of sexy women.

But at that precise moment, she was the only one he wanted to kiss. And Soren had beaten him to it. It had been like that all their lives.

In high school, Soren lured numerous girlfriends away from Ryland, even the ones he didn’t particularly want to steal. He’d done it for the thrill, mostly, and to put a bee in his brother’s bonnet. And to get laid as much as possible. Since Soren had taken over the music world, Ryland had to deal with women asking about him on a constant basis. And Soren treated them like worn mattresses when he was done with them. He had no respect, not for family or shifter heritage, and certainly not for women.

And now his name would forever be linked with Lia’s.

He swore quietly.

To make matters worse, Ryland never caught that Harry Little and it stymied him. He’d completely lost the man’s scent, which was unlike him. The only thing to which he could attribute it was being so rattled by the sight of Soren kissing Lia. He’d had to break the news the previous evening to her. She’d been shattered, worried her stalker would locate her, and he felt so responsible for her pain.

His head throbbed harder and he released his grip on the Pepto, reaching instead in his desk drawer for a bottle of ibuprofen. He popped a couple of pills without any water, grimacing as they crept down his throat.

Loud noises outside at the reception desk caught his attention, and he shut his laptop. He stalked outside to see if Marci needed help. “Oh, hell,” he muttered upon seeing the situation at the front desk.

Soren’s human fans had descended.

A throng of excited nonshifter women was lined up in front of Marci, pushing to get closer to the desk, crying out Soren’s name. Poor Marci cowered behind the desk, trying her best to maintain a hold on the situation while still shielding herself from the women.

“Shoren Shnow ishn’t shtaying here,” she shouted as well as she could behind her braces. She turned to Ryland, her eyes bugging out. “Mr. Shnow, these women won’t go away. They’re inshane!”

Ryland leaned over and whispered into Marci’s ear, telling her to go take a much-needed break. He watched as the girl scrambled away and dived behind the snack bar. He made a mental note to replenish the Malteser supply, knowing Marci would demolish it in the next few minutes.

He gripped the front desk. “Ladies,” he called, getting their attention. “Shoren Shnow … Soren Snow is not at this lodge.”

One of the ringleaders, a diminutive gal with buttons of Soren all over her front, pointed at him. “That’s a lie. We saw the picture. He’s here and you’re hiding him!”

Another woman called out. “And he’s with that Lia Goodblood! The little slut.” There was a chorus of shouted disapproval at this, even though they were clearly all here in the hopes of getting slutty with Soren themselves.

Ryland resisted the urge to shift and scare the bejesus out of all of them. As he heard a few more women denigrate Lia, he struggled against the impulse. He breathed in and out a few times.

All of a sudden from around the corner came Donna Moore, dressed in her cleaning lady garb. She wandered toward the horde of women, a friendly expression on her face. “Ladies, it’s true. I clean the rooms and there’s no Soren Snow. Last I heard, he escaped to the mainland.” She leaned in conspiratorially and whispered to the ones closest to her. “One of my friends told me he’s holed up at the Mariposa Inn, but don’t tell them I’m the one who told you. I clean rooms for them on the weekends and don’t want to lose my job there.”

The women stared and then huddled as they conferred. They broke their huddle and the one with the buttons smiled at Donna. “Thanks, sister.”

“What can I say?” asked Donna. “We girls have to stick together. Go get ’em!”

Ryland watched in amazement as the throng vacated, hell-bent for leather for the Mariposa Inn. Mentally, he said a prayer for the elderly innkeepers there. He turned to Donna. “Thank you.”

“What can I say?” she repeated. “We shifters have to stick together.” With that, she smiled and pushed her cleaning cart down the hallway toward the elevators.

Ryland breathed a sigh of relief and went to reassure poor, terrified Marci, from whom no Malteser was currently safe. And then, because he didn’t want to do anything else, God help him, he went looking for Lia.

* * * *

Lia sat like a board on Ryland’s bed, bunching up his duvet in her fists, and stared around at his room.

She was in Ryland’s suite, had been holed up there all day. The thought made her mind spin with the delicious possibilities, as his name streaked over and over through her consciousness.

“No,” she whispered to herself. “Look what your presence here has already done.”

But as much as she tried to deny her strong attraction to the bear man, every item in his room, every inconsequential nothing, only served to remind her of him and his hungry gaze. His fresh, woodsy scent was clinging to his bed, and she wanted to bury her face in it and soak him in. A couple of his big shirts were tossed carelessly over a chair back, and it was all she could do to not grab them and put them on. And peeking out of what must be his underwear drawer was a pair of sexy black boxer briefs, the kind that looked so soft to the touch.

Being in his room was nothing short of torture. Especially for someone like her who needed to come like it was nobody’s business. It had been so long since she’d been lost in the throes of an ecstatic orgasm, she doubted she had the ability to come anymore at all.

Maybe she could persuade him to put her back in her own room, but she knew he’d never agree to it. He’d been so upset at losing Harry Little he’d insisted Lia stay in his room so he could watch over her.