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“You need to come back to the Colony. Now.”
There was no use fighting it. Celia looked around the shop that she’d worked so hard to create, and fresh tears filled her eyes.
“Don’t you see, Malcolm? I finally got away. I made my escape from the Colony. This shop you’re standing in is my new life. For the first time ever I’m on my own, discovering who I am, without you. Without the other shifters. Without my—”
She paused as the finality of her words set in. Without my mother.
Fresh pain seared her insides.
“I like it here, Malcolm,” she said, pushing through the words. “No, I love it here. And here you’ve come, riding back into my life, trying to take it all away from me.”
“I don’t want to take anything from you,” he said. “I wish I didn’t have to. But you don’t belong here in this dry desert. You belong at home.” With me.
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.
Lying With Wolves
Cynthia Cooke
MILLS & BOON
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I’d like to dedicate this book to my husband, Dale, who has taken this crazy journey with me, loving and laughing all the way.
Contents
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
As the first streaks of dawn lit the horizon, she ran. Her paws scraped along the fine red dust of the desert floor as she dashed through creosote bushes, snakeweed and prickly pear cacti, her nose filling with the honey scent of graythorn.
She paused, catching a different scent—the tangy musk of fear. Her sharp eyes scanned the area in the lingering darkness as she searched the desert floor for shadows, for movement, for something to chase. And there it was, frozen next to a sage bush, impossibly large ears twitching, its round eyes wide with fear. A jackrabbit.
She gave chase—the rabbit’s scent filling her nose, the rapid pounding of its small heart thumping in her ears. The rabbit jumped, launching itself at least ten feet, its long legs propelling it at impossibly fast speeds as it zigzagged through yucca and agave.
Exaltation urged Celia faster. She chased the little creature while the sun, cresting beyond the stark canyons, lit the sky in an explosion of color. Power pulsed through her body, with each step rejoicing in her freedom as she raced through the morning air. She wished she could run like this all day but knew it would be too risky here in the Arizona desert, where people rose with the sun.
Then she heard the sound she’d
