LycanMate Page 4

  His face was grim. "Not really. What part of my past are you referring to?"

  She didn't need to be psychic to know he thought she was bringing up the death of his son. Stella stiffened. Gunnar was a sceptic, he had told her so himself, and he assumed she was inventing this reading using the bits and pieces of him she already knew.

  He was wrong. The cards were very clear. He needed to face his past.

  "The number two stands out. Two years. Your son's death." There she'd said it. Stella braced herself.

  Gunnar clenched his hand on the table into a fist and remained silent for a long time as he stared at her, his blue gaze darkening. "I faced my past, head on, for the longest time, longer than you can imagine. I couldn't accept the fact he was gone and I held onto hope he was somehow still alive." His face tensed. "I even went to a few psychics to help me, but a few thousand dollars later, I realised they were only looking to make a quick buck. None of them could give me any details on my son, his favourite toy, his favourite food. All they told me was what they thought I needed to hear. That he was in a better place. He was happy. He loved me. So you see, when I told you I didn't believe in psychics, I was talking from experience." He gave her a pointed look.

  Her sympathy for him won over her need to defend herself. "I'm sorry, Gunnar. I'm just telling you what I saw and felt." She paused, trying to find the right words. "And I see your past is not resolved."

  He ran a rough hand at the nape of his neck, his gaze almost furious. "What you saw and felt? Are you telling me you're psychic?"

  She bristled under his glare. "You agreed I read for you and that's what I did."

  "You didn't answer my question. Are you telling me you're psychic?"

  "I prefer to use the word gifted. Psychic has a rather unfavourable nuance attached to it."

  He leaned back in his chair, expelling a harsh breath. "Unbelievable. Out of all the inns I could have stayed at, I chose yours."

  "Why did you choose mine?" she asked in a small voice, but she already knew the answer. She believed in fate, in destiny. It was not a coincidence he chose hers. There was a reason their paths met and Stella was beginning to feel it was her healing powers he needed.

  What, then, did she need from him?

  "I chose yours because of its name, The Serenity. I need some peace in my life, some calm, and your name attracted me."

  Again, not a coincidence, she thought, but she couldn't tell him that. She tore her gaze away from his and looked back down at the cards.

  "You have a very busy few weeks ahead. Clarity and resolution seem to be surrounding you, a discovery with the help of another. Something very important will resurface in your life and it will change the course of your future."

  "Can the cards tell you what it is?"

  The images were too jumbled and she couldn't separate them. She saw water, a zebra, and a bowl of cereal. Stella frowned, but the overall message was there. He was going to resolve something vital in his life, but what did a zebra and cereal have to do with it? "No, only that it will bring you joy and release." She released an exasperated breath. "I guess this reading's not much help for your book. I'm sorry I wasn't able to give you any details--and the details I did see made no sense." She laughed self-consciously. "A zebra and cereal." She gathered her cards and stilled when his hand shot out and grabbed hers. She gave him a questioning look and stiffened. He was regarding her with disbelief.

  "What did you say?" he asked in a dangerously soft tone.

  His voice drew shivers on her back. "I said I'm sorry I couldn't give you de--"

  "Not that," he ground out. "The other thing."

  She was flustered. "What? The zebra and cereal?"

  He removed his hand from hers and drew back in his seat, his expression a curious mixture of anger and anguish. "Yes. That." His eyes bore down on hers. "Do you remember when I told you no other psychic could give me details about Tyler? That they couldn't tell me what his favourite toy was or what his favourite food was? That they only told me what I wanted to hear?"

  "Yes." She grew cold.

  "His favourite toy was a stuffed zebra I bought him he called Stripes and he loved cereal, any cereal. He'd eat it any time of day." His face turned grim. "My question is where did you get this information?"

  Fear and anger darted up her spine. Fear because of the dangerous look on his face, and anger because he thought she was lying. "Gunnar, I didn't read that information anywhere. I saw those images in my mind." She held his unwavering gaze, refusing to cower under his dark expression. "And I resent your implication."

  "You saw it in your mind."

  Her shackles rose. "Yes." She wasn't surprised. Gunnar was no different from all the other people she gave readings to. No one felt comfortable sitting next to someone who could see things.

  And then it hit her. Why would Tyler appear in her reading?

  "What is it?"

  "I…I was wondering why…" she began slowly, afraid to tell him what was on her mind. Any other Tarot reader would have assumed Tyler appeared because Gunnar would finally find closure with his pain, but she wasn't just another Tarot reader. She was a bona fide psychic and the connection was more daunting. Tyler appeared because there was something about his death that wasn't quite right. That didn't fit. "Something's off. There's information, a discovery, you'll make about Tyler."

  He rubbed the back of his neck with a rough hand. "What discovery? That he suffered when he drowned and the ocean carried his body deep into its depths never to be found again?" He paled, rising unsteadily to his feet. "Thank you for the reading, but I think I've had enough. I'm not saying you lied, but I am suggesting somewhere buried in your subconscious you connected my need to heal with his favourite toy and food."

  "I'm certain I've never read about you and Tyler," she said quietly.

  "Doesn't your sister own a bookstore? The paparazzi had a field day with me for months and printed every little detail about my life. It's possible your sister mentioned it to you in passing and you buried it in your subconscious."

  "No. You have it wrong, Gunnar."

  He grabbed his mini-tape recorder and straightened. "It doesn't matter now. Your reading shed some light for me and I think I'll go back upstairs and revise what I wrote," he said. "If I still need your help and require your assistance for another reading, will you be available?"

  She showed her surprise. "You still want me to help you?"

  His expression was dry. "Yes."

  "Of course I'll help."

  "Thank you." He turned on his heel and left.

  Chapter Five

  She saw him again a couple of hours later when she was straining her pasta. He strode into the kitchen, running an agitated hand at the back of his neck.

  "Stella, do you know of any stores close by that sell USB keys? I seem to have misplaced mine."

  She chewed her lower lip as a flash of green popped into her mind. "Maybe in town, but it's a good thirty minute drive." Another vision danced before her. Jeans, specifically a pocket in a pair of jeans. "Er…what colour is your USB key?"

  "Green. Why do you ask?"

  "I…I think I saw it near your jeans yesterday. It was lying on top of them."

  "Let me see if it's there." He left.

  Stella stirred the tomato sauce and added her special blend of spices. She heard Gunnar return a couple of minutes later.

  "It wasn't there. About that store. Can you give me directions?"

  Stella knew he hadn't checked the pockets otherwise he would have found it. She stifled a sigh. "Is it possible you slipped it into the pocket of your jeans? It would be a shame to drive all that way for nothing."

  He gave her a strange look and disappeared again. This time he returned holding his green USB key. "You were right."

  She laughed lightly. "That's great. At least you don't have to drive all the way to town."

  "Yes," he commented.

  She could tell he was disturbed.

  "How did you know where my USB key was? The jeans I wore yesterday were in a drawer."

  "Lucky guess," she replied.

  His face turned grim. "Have you been in my room?"

  Stella felt cold. "Excuse me?"

  "I said," he began slowly, folding his arms across his chest, "have you been in my room?"

  She bristled. "Are you accusing me of something?"

  His hard expression didn't relent. "How else could you have known where it was?"

  Stella didn't know if she should feel angry or defensive. Angry because he was accusing her of snooping, or defensive because of what he'd say once she explained she could find things. Common sense won because she didn't want him to think the worst of her. She braced herself. "I saw it there."

  "When did you see it there?"

  She saw a muscle working along his jaw. "Just now. When you told me you misplaced it."

  He clenched and unclenched his jaw. "I didn't see you leave. So how could you see it now?"

  She stiffened, even though she understood how he came up with the notion she'd been snooping. "If you must know," she began tautly, "I saw it in my head." She ignored the surprised, then sceptical look on his face. "I…I find things."

  "You find things," he said slowly.

  She squared her shoulders. "Yes."

  "So when I just told you I lost my USB key, you saw where it was in your head."

  She swallowed. "Yes."

  "All right." His eyes narrowed. "Where is my passport?"

  "What?"

  "Where is my passport?" he asked slowly.

  She could tell he was still quite angry. "You don't know where it is?"

  "I do."

  "Then I can't tell you where it is. I find lost or misplaced things. Things you want to find, things tha
t are hidden." She cringed inwardly. God, she sounded like a lunatic even to her own ears.

  "I see."

  She mirrored his stance and crossed her arms across her chest. "I was not snooping. There's no reason for me to snoop." Her eyes were smarting and she chewed her lower lip to stop it from quivering, wishing she could erase the last few minutes with him.

  He stared at her, long and hard, before he ran a hand at the back of his neck. Finally he released a ragged breath and said, "I believe you." He paused. "I've had problems in the past with hotel staff who wanted to sell stories about me to the paparazzi." Her expression mirrored her surprise and he continued. "I recently went through a very nasty divorce and public tragedy and I'm afraid I've been looking over my shoulder the past two years. Being a bestselling novelist has its pitfalls. That's why I came here instead of a huge, fancy hotel. I wanted anonymity. Privacy."

  "I understand," she replied gently.

  "My writing is all I have now. It keeps me sane." He cleared his throat abruptly as though he said too much. "Thank you for helping me find my USB key," he offered, his tone curiously hoarse.

  Her kitchen phone rang. Not now, she thought, tossing it an annoying glance. He was finally opening up to her and she didn't want this moment to end. She gave him an apologetic look. "Excuse me for a minute." She answered the phone. "The Serenity. How can I help you?"

  "Stella, it's me."

  Her spirits lifted despite her annoyance at having their moment interrupted. "Elissa! How are you? I missed you."

  "I'm fine. I miss you, too, sis. I should be home by the weekend."

  They chatted about Elissa's vacation and Stella looked up and saw Gunnar had left.

  "Any customers this week?" Elissa asked.

  "One. Do you know Gunnar Eriksson, the writer?"

  Elissa laughed softly. "I own a bookstore, remember? Of course I know him."

  Stella chewed the underside of her lower lip. "What…what can you tell me about him?"

  "No one really knows much about him, except that he's written a string of bestsellers. Paranormal thrillers. And what I do know I read in the papers. His ex and son died two years ago. Their car went off a cliff into the ocean. Their bodies were never found and after an extensive search, they were pronounced dead a few months later. Gunnar nearly lost his mind over it. He turned into a recluse after his son's death. I don't know much more about him except that his ex wasn't the faithful type and spent more time going out clubbing than spending time home looking after her son. Rumour has it he married her only because she got pregnant. Not an ideal marriage. I remembered hearing there was no love lost between the two of them." Elissa made a sympathetic sound on the other end of the line. "Poor man. He hasn't written a book since and has been hounded by the paparazzi. Is he…er…is he as gorgeous in person as he is on his book jackets?"

  "More." A stab of longing coursed through her body and she squeezed her eyes. Her sister would be shocked if Stella told her she was falling for a man she'd just met. She concentrated on what Elissa was saying.

  After their quick chat, she set the table for lunch, her thoughts straying to Tyler. She lost her grandmother two years ago and still missed her like crazy. She could just imagine how it felt to lose a child.

  It was a shame Gunnar didn't believe in psychics because all he had to do was sit down with Elissa and have her channel Tyler's spirit. As a medium, Elissa was the best. She was genuine and authentic. She could talk to Tyler and--Stella wanted to kick herself! Why hadn't she thought of that before?

  She would call Elissa and have her take a peak to the other side and speak to Tyler herself. If Gunnar knew his son was all right and Tyler gave his father some words of comfort, maybe that would help ease some of his grief and he could heal faster. She grabbed the phone and dialled Elissa's cell, her heart racing.

  "Hi. This is an emergency," Stella said as soon as her younger sister answered the phone. "I need you to go to the other side and speak to Tyler Eriksson."

  "Who?"

  "Tyler Eriksson."

  There was a pregnant pause. "Eriksson, as in your customer?"

  "Yes. Tyler is Gunnar's son." She paused, inhaling. "Do you contact little children? He was two when he died. He would have been four years old now."

  "The connection is not as long as it is with adults, but I have spoken with children before. It's hard to explain, but when they're very young, I connect with them on an emotional level. If they're an infant, they speak to me through their hearts and minds."

  "So they do respond to your questions," Stella said, trying hard to understand Elissa's gift.

  "Oh, yes. All the time."

  Stella pursed her lips. "Okay. I need you to find out if he's okay. Tell him his father loves him and misses him."

  "Do you need this right away?"

  "As soon as possible. Preferably within the next fifteen minutes."

  "That's more like right away."

  "Please. It's really important."

  "You know I'm on vacation to get away from all that stuff."

  Stella felt guilty. "I know and I wouldn't ask you to do this if it wasn't urgent."

  "Okay. I'll call you right back."

  Stella paced the floor for what seemed an eternity before Elissa called her back. She grabbed the phone on the first ring.

  "What did he say?" Stella asked without bothering to say hello.

  Elissa's voice sounded odd. "Uhh…are you sitting down?"

  "Why?"

  "Stella, Tyler Eriksson is not on the other side."

  Chapter Six

  Stella felt her legs grow weak and sat down. "Are you sure?" she whispered.

  "Yes," Elissa said quietly.

  She couldn't think straight. The implication was too great to ignore. How was she going to tell Gunnar? How did she tell a man the son he thought dead for two years might somehow still be alive?

  Stella covered her face with a trembling hand. "Elissa, what am I going to do? What do I tell Gunnar?"

  "You like him, don't you?"

  "Yes. A lot."

  "Then tell him the truth."

  Stella shook her head. "I can't. Not until I know for sure what happened. I don't want to give him any false sense of hope. He's been through so much as it is."

  "Okay. Just call me if you need any more help," Elissa said softly.

  * * * *

  Gunnar flipped through the pages he'd just printed and leaned back in his chair. He inhaled slowly. The woman downstairs who'd pole-axed him since the first moment he met her had managed to erase his writer's block in one sitting. He shook his head slowly. Unbelievable. Now he needed to add admiration to his growing list of feelings he had for her. He twisted his mouth wryly at the thought. Feelings. It was hell enough trying to fight his need to claim her as his own, but now these other damn feelings were getting in the way.

  Dammit. She was slowly finding her way into his heart.

  Guilt ripped through him as he recalled the look on her face when he'd accused her of going through his room. He'd hurt her and he wished he could take that moment back, but it couldn't be helped, dammit. She would have found too many things that would have made her raise questions: A gun and a box of silver bullets, a wooden stake.

  He didn't want her to know the truth about him. He didn't want her getting close to him. His gut clenched. And if she spent more time giving him a reading she may have discovered the truth.

  Damn she was good, a true psychic. With a gift like that she could have been raking in big dough, opening a psychic line on TV, giving readings to celebrities who doled out big cash, anything that spelled big bucks, but she didn't.

  Instead she ran a small bed and breakfast out in the middle of nowhere, living a quiet life. Anonymity. She was a lot like him, hiding from the world.

  His cold heart thawed.

  Then reality hit him in the gut. She wasn't anything like him. He was a beast. She was human. He was a monster. She was a saint.

  He rose abruptly and went to his nightstand. He picked up his son's picture and stared at it. Everyone he'd ever loved in his life had died because of him. Gently, he put Tyler's picture down, shoved his papers in an envelope, and went downstairs.

  He found her at the front door taking four boxes of chocolates from a young girl in a Girl Scout outfit. She closed the door and turned around with a smile on her face. When she saw him, she pulled a face.