By Sharon Shinn
For fifteen years, Maria Devane has been desperately, passionately in love with Dante Romano. yet Maria is familiar with that Dante can by no means supply every thing of himself back—at least now not the entire time. each month, Dante shifts form, changing into a wild animal. He can’t decide on while he shifts, the transition is usually abrupt, and, as he will get older, the time he spends in human shape is steadily decreasing.
Maria has saved his mystery because the starting, understanding that their love is well worth the risk. but if a string of brutal assaults happens in neighborhood parks whereas Dante is in animal shape, Maria is pressured to think about even if the lies she’s been telling approximately her existence have changed into lies she’s telling herself...
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Additional info for The Shape of Desire (Shifting Circle, Book 1)
When at last Hazel had got him back to the ditch, he refused at first to go underground and Hazel had almost to push him down the hole. The sun set behind the opposite slope. The wind turned colder, with a scatter of rain, and in less than an hour it was dark. All color had faded from the sky: and although the big board by the gate creaked slightly in the night wind (as though to insist that it had not disappeared in the darkness, but was still firmly where it had been put), there was no passer-by to read the sharp, hard letters that cut straight as black knives across its white surface.
Evidently there were nesting holes in the sheer face below them, for as the light grew they saw three or four martins dart out over the stream and away into the fields beyond. In a short time one returned with his beak full, and they could hear the nestlings squeaking as he flew out of sight beneath their feet. The bank did not extend far in either direction. Upstream, it sloped down to a grassy path between the trees and the water. This followed the line of the river, which ran straight from almost as far away as they could see, flowing smoothly without fords, gravel shallows or plank bridges.
At this moment, as he was still wondering what to say to them, he suddenly realized that something had lightened his spirits. What could it be? A smell? A sound? Then he knew. Nearby, across the river, a lark had begun to twitter and climb. It was morning. A blackbird called one or two deep, slow notes and was followed by a wood pigeon. Soon they were in a gray twilight and could see that the stream bordered the further edge of the wood. On the other side lay open fields. 8. The Crossing The centurion ...