Читать книгу Lying with Wolves - Cynthia Cooke - Страница 8

Chapter 2

The pressure in Celia’s chest was unbearable. Malcolm was here. She could feel him. Close. The shop’s walls closed in on her as she circled the room. She couldn’t face him. Not yet. Damn, why was he here?

Concern widened Jade’s all-seeing blue eyes as she watched her pacing from behind the counter. “What is it?” she asked.

“I—” Celia didn’t know what to say. How she could explain? The man who broke my heart into a million pieces is here, and I’m too much of a coward to face him? Yep, that would sit well. Hell, she wasn’t a baby; it was high time she stopped acting like one.

And then she saw him through the window, and her heart leaped into her throat and strangled her.

Jade followed her gaze, then turned back to her, a smile twisting her lips. “Is that Malcolm?”

Malcolm. The one Celia could barely think about, let alone talk about. The man who had carelessly ripped out her heart and fed it to the buzzards. How could he still affect her so deeply? She backed away from the window. “Tell him I’m not here.”

“What?” Jade blurted, astonished.

“I know, I’m the biggest kind of coward. And I will deal with him. Just...not...yet. Tell him I’m gone. Anywhere. The store. The moon. Please.”

“But, Celia, he came all this way. Don’t you at least want to know why?”

“No. Not really.” Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good. Not for her. She shook her head as she backed through the door at the rear of the shop that led into a storage room.

“You can’t keep running,” Jade said, her voice annoyingly maternal. “One of these days you’re going to have to face—” Her words broke off as the bells chimed above the door.

Maybe, but not today. Celia shrank back into the darkness behind the door.

“Hi,” Malcolm said to Jade, the warm timbre of his voice reaching inside Celia, twisting and turning, and slicing her heart to shreds.

What was wrong with her? Why was she hiding in the closet like a coward after everything he’d done to her? She’d given him her heart, given him everything she’d had, and he’d tossed it away to marry another woman in his pursuit of power and greed. An arranged marriage in name only, he’d said. As if she’d be okay with that? As if she’d be his “plaything” on the side after all their years together? Anger fueled her once more, reminding her why she fled, why it had been so important to rebuild her life in Sedona. So she could discover who she was, alone, without him, without the influence of the other shifters.

She should go out there. Face him.

“She’s hiking,” Jade said to him. “In the canyon. She goes there to collect wild herbs for our products. Would you like to try—”

“Are you sure?” he asked. “I could have sworn—”

Celia took a step forward, her hand on the knob ready to pull it open.

“Positive! Really. Here—” Jade picked up the notepad and quickly wrote something down. “Here’s a map to where she likes to hike, but I’ll be happy to tell her you stopped by. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to try—”

“Yes, I’m sure.” Impatience rang thick in his voice. “Tell her it’s Malcolm and tell her it’s important. Critical, in fact. Now, if you could give me directions to this canyon...?”

Celia opened the door enough to peer through and sucked in her breath. How could just the sight of him, his thick dark hair, his muscular frame, that tight butt, still do things to her? It wasn’t fair. The universe was testing her, that was all. Jade pointed out the window toward the canyons in the distance and Celia pushed out a relieved breath. He was leaving.

The canyons should keep him busy for at least a few hours. She leaned her head against the doorjamb. She had only a few hours to pull herself together before he came back. And he would come back. The crystals’ dark energy in his bracelet was no longer forming a protective field around him.

* * *

Heat seeped into Malcolm’s skin and red dirt filled his nose. He’d been walking around this dry dust bowl for more than an hour and had seen no sign of Celia, nor had he felt her anywhere. The longer he looked, the more miserable he’d become. He hated the scruffy bushes and sparse trees of the desert. The mountains, if you could call them that, looked more like deformed fingers pushing up through the earth than actual mountains.

How could Celia stand it here? This dry, barren land couldn’t compare to the lushness of their forests back home. Towering cedars and redwoods laced the air with the scent of pinecones and the richness of evergreen. Here all he could smell was dry, dusty dirt.

Perhaps it wouldn’t be so hard to convince her to come home after all. Once he found her. If only he could transform and run free. He’d be able to use his wolf senses and cover more ground. But there was nowhere to hide in this large expanse of open land void of thick bushes or large trees. Out here in the open, he could be seen by anyone passing by.

He continued walking down the trail, searching the canyon for another twenty minutes, but still no sign of her. He stared down at the crudely drawn map the girl from the shop had made him. He was where he was supposed to be. Celia wasn’t here.

As he looked at the barren land around him, he realized she probably never had been here. He’d been duped. Anger tightened his fists, crumpling the paper clutched in his hand. Time was running out for the shifters at the Colony, and for him. The crystals protecting the Colony needed to be rejuvenated, and she was the only one who could do it. He didn’t have time for lies and games. He spun round and stormed back down the path toward his truck. They couldn’t waste time like this. He had to get her back to the Colony. He started to run, down one path after another, skirting around a large boulder. He almost plowed into another Abatu.

Damn. They were everywhere.

He hurried past, aware of the black shadows surrounding the man’s head and what was moving within them. A beefy hand clamped down on his shoulder. Malcolm’s eyes squeezed shut. He didn’t have time for this. He had to find Celia. He had to tell her the truth about her mother, and about what was happening back home. If he didn’t, none of them stood a chance. He jerked out of the man’s grasp, turned and crouched down just as the man swung at him. And missed. The second swing didn’t. Malcolm felt the blow to his head, like a hammer pounding against a nail. The ping echoed through his brain, sending a spray of white dots behind his eyes.

Malcolm wasn’t a big man, but he was agile and quick on his feet. He managed to avert the third blow and the fourth, jumping to one side and then the next. The man swung again, this time landing the blow, knocking Malcolm flat on his back.

The Abatu fell on top of Malcolm, pushing the air from his chest in a painful whoosh. He hit him again, a series of blows, pummeling his face. A burning pain stitched his face as his eyebrow split and blood poured into his eyes. He had to get away. He reached forward blindly, searching for the man’s eyes, hoping if he could just grab hold, push his fingers deep enough, he could get the beast off him.

The pressure on his chest from the man’s knees was becoming unbearable. He felt a rib snap as the man pushed down, leaning forward, using his bulk, his weight, as a weapon. Pain screaming through his system, Malcolm jerked up, snapping his head forward, smacking it into the man’s cheekbone and nose with a dull, squishy thud.

The sound of crunching bone was immensely satisfying. He rolled quickly, jumped to his feet, then attacked the Abatu viciously with his feet, kicking him over and over until finally he had the upper hand. The demon lay on the ground, groaning in pain and clutching his middle. Knowing he wouldn’t be down for long, Malcolm turned and ran back down the hill and toward his truck. He glanced over his shoulder and couldn’t believe the Abatu was back on his feet, chasing after him. What the hell?

Malcolm reached his truck and unlocked the door, the Abatu almost on him. He could practically feel the big man’s hot breath rushing down his neck. Without looking, Malcolm jumped inside his truck, slammed and locked the door and turned over the engine. The Abatu slapped a meaty hand against the side of the truck with a loud thunk as Malcolm peeled off down the road.

He’d made it maybe a mile when he caught sight of his wrist. Staring in disbelief, he hit the brakes and the truck screeched to a stop. The string of crystals, his protection against the Gauliacho, was gone. Should he go back and try to find it? Would the Abatu still be there? Could he make it all the way home without it? No! Every Abatu for miles around would be coming for him, and if they didn’t get him, the Gauliacho would.

He would have to go back.

* * *

Like a bug trapped in a jar, Celia paced the small shop. She had to run. But where? This was her home. Her shop. Her new life. She wasn’t going to let Malcolm chase her out of it. Besides, she couldn’t disappear without rejuvenating his crystals. If she did...well, that was more than she wanted to be responsible for. She didn’t want anything to happen to him. She just wanted never to have to see him again. Why couldn’t he have just stayed where he was?

“It’s going to be all right,” Ruby said, patting Celia’s back.

“I know,” she whispered. But she didn’t know.

“You want us to stay?” Jade asked.

Celia shook her head, though part of her wanted to say yes. To have them as a buffer. But she had to face Malcolm on her own. They couldn’t hear that conversation. “No, thanks.” Celia watched her cousins walk out the door and was sorely tempted to call them back. But she didn’t. Instead she squared her shoulders, lifted her chin and sat back down behind the counter to wait for Malcolm to arrive.

* * *

By the time Malcolm pulled to a stop in front of the shop, he was furious and hurt everywhere. He was still bleeding, and worse, he’d never found the stones. He was working on borrowed time. Time he couldn’t afford to lose. He jumped out of the truck, wincing at the arc of pain slicing through his ribs, and hurried toward the shop.

He pulled open the door, cringing as the bells pierced his throbbing brain. “Celia!” he bellowed.

Silence greeted him. He was about to call her again when the door to the back room opened and she stepped into the doorway. His breath caught in this throat, strangling the yell that had been perched on his tongue.

“Hello, Malcolm,” she said, her warm, brandy-laced voice washing over him. She walked into the room. As if nothing had happened. As if he weren’t covered in red dirt and blood.

“Celia,” he said, not trusting himself to say more.

She walked forward, her long, gorgeous legs hidden beneath a gauzy dark blue skirt. Graceful. Elegant. And yet, as her chocolate-brown eyes caught his, they were filled with wariness. He’d done that to her. Her eyes used to be wide-open and filled with joy. Now they were guarded and hard.

“It’s good to see you,” he said. She looked beautiful, her copper hair a wild mane bouncing around her shoulders. How he’d missed that hair tickling his skin. How he missed her.

“What are you doing here, Malcolm?” A note of coldness entered her voice, and she clasped her hands tightly in front of her.

“I needed to see you—”

“That’s not a good enough reason to intrude on my life. I don’t want to see you. To have anything to do with you. Not now. Not ever.” Fire flashed amber in her dark eyes as they took in the cut on his brow, the blood on his face. “I would have thought your little field trip into the canyons had made that clear.”

Anger fired like a .22 bullet ricocheting off his insides, bouncing within him. “You sent me there on purpose?”

“Of course.”

What had happened to her? The Celia he knew never... “You could have got me killed,” he said evenly.

“Oh, please, men like you don’t die, Malcolm. They live on to make everyone else suffer.”

Her sharp words cut him deep. “My protection is gone. I lost the bracelet of crystals in the canyon when I was attacked by an Abatu.”

“Then you’re in a helluva lot of trouble, aren’t you?”

He sucked in a quick breath, disbelief thick in his throat. “What are you saying?”

“Get out, Malcolm. And don’t ever come back.”

He stared at the hard, cold fury in her eyes and wondered what had happened to the soft, caring woman he loved.

He was what happened. He’d made her like this. “Do you really hate me that much?” he asked, his voice breaking over the words.

“Yes,” she said without missing a beat.

He didn’t believe it. He couldn’t. She was being absurd. Childish. “I made some mistakes...some misjudgments—”

“Don’t kid yourself, Malcolm. You are a coldhearted, self-absorbed, power-hungry ass, and as far as I’m concerned, I don’t ever want to see you again. So I’ll tell you what. I will find your bracelet. I will rejuvenate your crystals. I will do whatever it takes to get you out of here. To go back to the Colony and never return. Is that clear?”

He took in the stiffness in her spine, the hardness in her jaw, the white knuckles of her clenched fingers, and knew there would be nothing he could say or do that would get through to her. And right then, he wished he could leave. Wished he could turn around and not have to face her, not have to break her heart any further. But he couldn’t. The Colony needed her. And they needed him to bring her to them.

“I’m sorry, Celia, but I can’t leave without you.” He took a step toward her, his hand outstretched.

She backed away. “Stay away from me,” she warned. “I will hurt you.”

“I know that I deserve your anger. I would leave you here in peace, if I could, but I can’t.”

Uncertainty and fear flashed through her eyes.

“I have to take you back to the Colony.”

“Why?” she asked, her voice rising in pitch. She could tell something was wrong; he could see it in the fear creeping into her face. But she didn’t want to face it. Didn’t want to know. And he wished like hell he didn’t have to tell her.

“The Colony needs you,” he said, his voice not much louder than a whisper.

She shook her head. “I won’t go back. I can’t,” she insisted, and turned away from him.

He took a deep steadying breath, steeling himself. “You have to, Celia. And not just for me, but for everyone. The stones surrounding the Colony need to be rejuvenated. There isn’t much time....”

She was still shaking her head. Her anger and bravado were gone now, replaced by something desperate. Something afraid. “Why can’t my mother—” She stopped midsentence as her eyes widened with a whisper of understanding.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out Jaya’s necklace, the long purple crystal hanging from a silver chain, and held it out to her. Guilt and shame burned through him. How would he say the words that would shatter her world? How could he confess the ugly truth of what he’d done?

He didn’t have to. He knew it was written all over his face.

Her head started swinging violently back and forth as a low keening wail broke free from somewhere deep inside her. The sound exploded into the air, filling the room. “Tell me!” she insisted, her hot, shimmering gaze glued to the purple stone dangling from his hand. “What happened to my mother?”

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, stepping toward her. “She’s...she’s dead, Celia.”

Her loud cry ripped his soul apart. Her knees buckled and she collapsed, slowly falling to the floor. He caught her in his arms and together they fell as she cried heart-wrenching sobs, her hands clutching his shirt as she tried desperately to hang on even as her grief overwhelmed her, pulling her under.

He had done this to her. To her mother, Jaya. To them all.

None of this should have happened. He’d still be Pack leader. Jason would still be his best friend and right-hand man. Jaya would still be alive and regenerating the Colony’s crystals and Celia would still be in his house. In his bed. He wouldn’t be sitting in a heap on the floor far from home holding the woman he loved while she broke into a million pieces, shattering in his arms. Knowing he’d broken her, and there was no way he’d be able to put it all back to together again. No matter how he wished he could.

Some mistakes could never be fixed.