“Do you hear it, too?”
With a whoosh, Shay's chest filled with air. She gasped in, quick shallow painful breaths. Jason's aura was strong, bright. Chasing away the darkness in her eyes as she hung on to him.
“I'm afraid something … in the walls is making me sick,” she confessed.
“It's going to be all right. I'll take care of you,” he said, and before she could respond or even contemplate his words, Shay was up in his arms, cradled against the too-good-to-be-true stranger's warm chest. She didn't know if the whispering had stopped or if she was so consumed by his body heat and by his heady, earthy scent that she no longer heard the disturbing whispers. She breathed Jason's scent deep, holding it within her, as if it alone could protect her from the darkness …
Many years ago, CYNTHIA COOKE lived a quiet, idyllic life caring for her beautiful eighteen-month-old daughter. Then peace gave way to chaos with the birth of her boy/girl twins. She kept her sanity by reading romance novels and dreaming of someday writing one. With the help of Romance Writers of America and wonderfully supportive friends, she fulfilled her dreams. Now, many moons later, Cynthia is an award-winning author who has published books with Mills & Boon and Steeple Hill Books.
Running with Wolves
Cynthia Cooke
MILLS & BOON
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This book is dedicated to my good friend
and critique partner, Kelly Keaton!
Contents
Chapter 1
Shay Mallory felt the sensation of being watched as she walked down her long driveway, her tennis shoes crunching on the sparse gravel. Late morning fog hovered in the branches of the tall redwoods forming a canopy above her. She breathed deep the briny scent of ocean air and willed herself to relax. Not an easy task.
A twig snapped behind her. Tensing, she peered over her shoulder at the deep shadows lengthened by the soaring trees, but saw no one. She was being jumpy. There was no one there. Nothing to be afraid of, and yet she was. Fear clung to her back, digging its long sharp claws into her shoulders, a constant reminder of its needling presence.
She’d spent her whole life jumping at imaginary threats, constantly moving until one town blurred into the next. But her paranoid father had been dead a long time now. For years, there had been just her and Grams in these woods, and no reason to be afraid. No reason to jump.
A whimpering sounded behind her. Smiling, she stopped and turned.
“Hey, Buddy.” She squatted next to the large husky that had been shadowing her and rubbed the thick brown fur on his cheeks. He looked more like a wolf than a dog and had been her only companion since Grams died last year. If it weren’t for him, she’d be completely alone. She brushed off the thought and the sense of deep sadness that came with it. Until she figured out what was going on with her, spending less time around people would be better anyway.
Buddy sat and she patted his head. “You can’t come with me, Buddy. You
