Bound to Change: A Limited Edition Spring Shifter Romance Collection

by Margo Bond Collins

  “Maybe we could paint together sometime,” Grant said.

  She turned in his arms and looked into his kind, rugged face. “I’d like that.”

  He kissed her—softly, sweetly. When he pulled back, Caitlyn felt as if she’d gotten a hit of some kind of drug. It was a giant serotonin hit.

  “Kiss me again,” she said, and he did.

  Maybe it was serotonin. Or maybe it was magic. What had he called it before? Fate?

  Finally, they pulled apart, and Caitlyn said, “I think it’s bedtime.”

  “I think so, too,” he said, kissing her once more, a soft smack on the lips that made her crave another.

  When he went inside the trailer, she hesitated. This nightmare situation—trapped in some kind of invisible dome with dangerous beast-men—had somehow turned into a fantasy. No, she wouldn’t be happy, she couldn’t rest, until she and Grant were free. But while they waited, they didn’t have to be miserable.

  She would only be miserable without him.

  He was what she needed—his love, his companionship. Her aunt had died alone, and Caitlyn had decided she wanted more out of life than her career and casual friendships. Now she’d found what she needed. She’d found Grant.

  Grinning to herself, she opened the trailer door to go inside.

  Grant was coming out, and she collided against him.

  “Careful, there,” he said, grabbing her shoulders so she wouldn’t fall.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  “I’ll stay outside tonight, to guard you.”

  “Carter said they wouldn’t come back tonight, didn’t he?”

  “Yeah. I think you’ll be more comfortable and secure without me in there. I figured you’d want some space.”

  She touched his arm. “You figured wrong.”

  He stared directly into her eyes, his green irises captivating. “Why, Caitlyn Dorsey, are you inviting me to spend the night with you?”

  “Yes—”

  The word was hardly out of her mouth before he picked her up. Automatically, she wrapped her legs around his waist. He pressed her against the doorway and kissed her breathless. When he moved along her jaw and down to her neck, she gasped and clutched him more tightly against her.

  More. She wanted more. Always, with him. Was there a version of Stockholm Syndrome where two prisoners fell in love? Because she had no other explanation for the desperate feelings she had for this man. The need and desire had come out of nowhere.

  They had to get out of this place—the Junkyard—so she could see if the feelings were just as strong outside of this fucked-up situation. Which reminded her...

  “There’s one thing we haven’t talked about yet,” she said, pulling back from his kisses.

  “Yeah?”

  “That white crystal that the...witch wants us to get?” She nearly tripped on the word witch. It still felt bizarre to talk about witches and shapeshifters as real people, not pretend Halloween caricatures. Would she get used to it, or would she forget all about this place after she was free?

  She never wanted to forget Grant.

  “It’s not going to be easy to get it,” Grant said. He ran his fingers through her hair, which sent delicious tingling feelings all through her body. “I know where to find white crystals—along the boundary, past the pond where we talked to Phillip yesterday. It’s practically in Alleman’s and Buenevista’s back yards.”

  “But, if you’re the dominant one, can’t you go in and take it?”

  “Not if it’s their personal space. Unless I want to challenge them again. And it wouldn’t be just those two fighting me, but everybody over there.”

  “So,” she said, walking two fingers up his muscular pecs, over his neck, and up to his lips, “we’re going to go in, all sneaky-like?”

  “Close.” He took the tips of her fingers in his teeth and gave them a gentle bite. As she shivered and felt her brain short-circuit with lust, he added, “I’ll be going in, all sneaky-like, while you stay here where it’s safe.”

  She thought of arguing with him, but she knew her strengths. She was not sneaky. A shifter could probably hear a mouse fart at three miles away, and Caitlyn couldn’t compete with that.

  “Are you worried about this?” she asked.

  He grinned down at her. “Not at all.”

  “Good. When are you going to do it? Tonight?”

  “Nope,” he said. “Tomorrow night.”

  “Then let’s go to bed.”

  “I like the way you think.”

  When she raised her mouth toward his, he pressed his lips to hers.

  “Kissing you is like coming alive again,” he whispered.

  It was the same for her—like she’d been sleepwalking through her life up until now. But instead of pulling away to tell him about it, she showed him with her lips, her tongue, and the rest of her body.

  Chapter Nine

  “You’ll stay here, fight with anyone who gets close,” Grant said to Carter the following night. The woods were quiet, save for the occasional whoop of laughter coming from the dump, far-off. This late at night, way past midnight, most of the shifters were probably sleeping. All the easier for sneaking around.

  Carter nodded and his blue eyes flashed. “Yes. Fuck. How many times are you going to tell me?”

  Grant didn’t trust Carter for much of anything, but he was Grant’s only chance at a guard.

  Caitlyn stood in the doorway of the trailer, looking nervously between them.

  “Maybe you should shift to your bear now,” Grant said, “so you’re prepared if they come.”

  “I agreed to be a fucking babysitter.” Carter plucked a long piece of grass from beside one of the wooden blocks holding up the trailer and stuck the end in his mouth. “I didn’t agree to be bossed around by an overprotective mate.”

  Alarmed by Carter’s use of the word mate, Grant flicked a glance at Caitlyn again. She mouthed the word with a question in her eyes, but Grant said, “Later.”

  He didn’t know how he was going to bring that up to her. He was hers, forever. That was how it worked. But she was human. Did she feel the same things he felt?

  He was hers, forever...but was she his?

  Carter parked in the old lawn chair and leaned his head back against the side of the trailer, looking more like an old cowpoke with hay in his mouth than a brutal bodyguard.

  “You’re not inspiring my confidence,” Grant growled.

  Shrugging, Carter said, “You’re not inspiring my desire to sit here and take your shit.”

  Caitlyn laughed. “Go, Grant. I’ll be fine—I’ll stay inside.”

  “This’ll take me half an hour, tops,” he said, marching forward and kissing her on the mouth.

  “See you soon.” Her eyes sparkled with playfulness, so he reached behind her and pinched her ass. She yelped and swatted his arm.

  Carter made a fake retching sound.

  “Okay, okay, I’m going,” Grant said.

  He planted one last kiss on Caitlyn’s nose, ignoring the gagging noises coming from Carter, then jogged west through the woods that would lead him past Carter’s place and all the way across the Junkyard to the dump, where Mathers and a few of the others had created their dens.

  When he got closer to the dump, he slowed his pace and kept to the shadows. The moon was just a sliver in the sky. Grant inhaled, exhaled. He watched the edges of the dump, where old trucks and cars had been piled together in a grotesque, rusting kind of fence. He didn’t see anyone patrolling, but really, why would Mathers put anybody up to that? The only guys who lived outside of the dump were Grant and Carter. As far as Mathers and the rest of them thought, Grant and Carter had no reason to come here.

  Grant darted forward and paused next to a rusting school bus. The stale beer stink of Derrick Alleman was all over the place, and it was fresh, but Alleman was nowhere in sight. Grant edged around the bus and ran to a pile of sheet metal leaning against some other junk.

  The sound of
heavy mouth-breathing was the only warning he had. Ducking, he dodged the blow to his neck. The jagged ends of a broken bottle caught him in the shoulder instead.

  “The fuck?” he hissed.

  Derrick Alleman stood in front of him, a sneer on his face. “Why are you sneaking around our territory?”

  “Just going for a walk,” Grant said, before swiping against Alleman’s ankles with his foot and taking him down. He clocked Alleman hard in the face and nodded in satisfaction as Alleman’s eyes closed.

  “You give mountain lion shifters a bad name,” Grant added.

  His shoulder hurt like hell and he was probably bleeding everywhere, but he wanted to get that crystal and get the fuck out of here.

  He passed the giant pile of wood and metal that was Stetson’s den before he came to another ring of rusted vehicles. Alleman and Buenevista lived somewhere in here. Jase, too, if Grant wasn’t mistaking the scent of sandalwood.

  Behind Alleman’s and Buenevista’s places was a pile of rubble dotted with clear and white crystals. Grant had seen it once or twice when combing through the dump for cans of paint. On those trips, he’d been here with permission. Now, they’d just as soon as kill him as look at him, as Alleman had demonstrated with that broken bottle.

  He heard talking nearby, but the dump was strangely quiet, and that bothered him more than anything else. Hurrying forward, he snatched a shining crystal from the pile of rubble and retraced his steps. The sooner he could get back to Caitlyn and send Carter on his not-so-merry way, the better. He jammed the stupid rock in his pocket for safekeeping.

  On his way out, he passed Alleman next to the bus. Kicking the asshole was a temptation, but Grant restrained himself and kept moving. Once he was back in the woods, he relaxed out of stealth mode and moved faster, no longer concerned with discovery.

  Something niggled at his mind as he hurried to the trailer. A feeling of urgency. He let it propel him forward even faster until he was running.

  There was his trailer. He came around to the front of it. Carter was nowhere in sight.

  “Carter,” he said.

  Had he abandoned his post?

  “Caitlyn?” Grant yanked open the door and went inside. Her vanilla rose scent met his nostrils, but it was tinged with the acrid scent of her fear.

  And the sour scent Mathers carried.

  “Caitlyn!” Fuck. Fuck. Where could she be?

  It had been quiet at the dump—while he was going there, had they all been coming here?

  No time to waste. He followed Carter’s and Caitlyn’s scents. They mingled with Mathers’s sour scent, and then Caitlyn’s vanilla got fainter. She’d been carried.

  Mathers had touched her. Held her. Carried her away. She must have been terrified. Choking through his own fear, terrified that Caitlyn was hurt and scared, Grant ran forward.

  Loud shouting reached his ears. He abandoned the scent trail and followed the noise. It took him toward Carter’s place, which was smack in the middle of the Junkyard.

  He heard a grunt of pain, and Carter mumbled, “Sonuvabitch.”

  Grant rushed through the trees until he could see Carter’s ramshackle den, which was made mostly of fallen logs and rusted sheet metal. Next to it was a small clearing. Two lanterns rested on the ground, illuminating the scene, but one had been kicked on its side. Good thing they were electric lanterns—no forest fires today.

  Caitlyn was nowhere in sight, but Carter was shirtless and facing a shirtless opponent—Noah Ephraimson, a blond-haired wolf shifter with a long Viking beard. Another guy stood nearby, blood trickling from a cut on his eyebrow.

  Noah growled at Carter. He pulled back an arm, but Grant jumped forward and grabbed him before he could swing.

  “Where—is—she?” Grant demanded, throwing Noah to the ground and holding a foot over his throat.

  “Fuck, what the hell, man?” Carter said, pulling Grant away from Noah.

  Noah got up, growling. He looked like he was ready to tear off his jeans and shift into his wolf.

  “I got this,” Carter said.

  Grant stared hard at Carter. “You weren’t fighting him to get Caitlyn?”

  Carter threw back his head and laughed. “Why would I do that? She’s at the trailer.” Then understanding seemed to hit him. “Oh shit. She’s not at the trailer.”

  “No,” Grant growled.

  “Bummer.”

  Grant didn’t think. He hauled an arm back and swung. His fist caught Carter in the chin.

  “What the fuck?” Carter said.

  “Where is she?”

  “I don’t know.” Carter rubbed his jaw.

  “Why’d you leave?”

  “Why do I do anything?” Carter asked. “My bear wanted a fight. I rustled up a couple of guys so I could give him one.”

  Grant shook his head. “You’re disgusting.”

  “Try the south end of the dump,” Carter said, spitting blood on the ground. “Mathers probably took her there.”

  Grant started off, cursing under his breath.

  “For what it’s worth,” Carter called after him, “I hope you get her back.”

  It was worth nothing, coming from the mouth of a guy who couldn’t keep his fucking beast in control long enough to guard Grant’s mate. But Grant didn’t have time to fight with him.

  He had a whole different battle ahead of him.

  Chapter Ten

  Stars studded the night sky, and a crescent moon hung near the eastern horizon. It wasn’t dawn yet, and Caitlyn guessed there was maybe an hour to go before the witch could meet them. She gritted her teeth at the feeling of the rough rope binding her hands. She was in a cage with rusted metal bars. Other than that, she had no idea where she was. It had been dark before, when she’d been in Mathers’s trailer, but nothing around here looked familiar. She couldn’t see the thick gravel line that showed where the edge of the Junkyard was. How big was this place? Mathers had said something like it was less than a hundred acres.

  That meant Grant would be able to find her. She just had to trust him.

  A few men, four including Mathers, leaned against an old Mustang. It was a crime what had happened to that car—rust and years of neglect had turned it into a pocked relic from another era. And now people like Mathers were resting their ugly asses against it.

  The men passed a bottle back and forth, drinking clear liquid from it. From the way they laughed and got louder and louder, Caitlyn would’ve bet her favorite pair of scrubs that they weren’t drinking water.

  Mathers caught her looking at him and smiled. She glared harder, until he reached down and cupped his junk through his jeans.

  Disgusting. She looked away, and he cackled.

  “I think our prize is getting impatient,” Mathers said to the others.

  “I know I sure as hell am,” one of them said.

  “Just like last time,” Mathers said. “Last man standing takes her, claims her, and she’s yours.”

  “You sure Lewiston isn’t hiding somewhere, ready to steal her away?”

  “Let him try,” Mathers said with a growl.

  Yeah, let him try, Caitlyn thought. He’d be here, no question. It should’ve only taken him a half hour to get that crystal, and by now he would know she was missing.

  Why hadn’t Carter done anything? Caitlyn had been sitting in the trailer, wondering what to do with her time while she waited for Grant to come back. The next thing she knew, Mathers had yanked open the door and came inside. He’d half-dragged, half-carried her here, where all those other goons had been waiting.

  “You’re weak,” he’d said, his sour breath in her face. “And soon, you’ll be mine.”

  She’d been too terrified to cuss him out. Anger and fear still had a hold on her. But every time the emotions got to be too much, she’d think of Grant. He’d be here any second.

  While Mathers and the other guys argued over who would fight first, Caitlyn took a more careful look at her cage. The bars were old and a couple of t
hem looked fragile near the bottom. Carefully, Caitlyn inched sideways. Maybe she could rub the rope against one of the sharp edges, or kick the bar out entirely.

  When Mathers looked her way again, she slumped down to the metal floor of the cage and leaned against the rustiest bars. Let her seem fragile to him. Let her seem “weak,” like he’d said. Fuck him and his supposed strength. You couldn’t prove you were strong by bullying others.

  He immediately went back to organizing the first match, between him and one of the others. Caitlyn pushed and pulled on the bar directly behind her and felt a slight give.

  She just might have a chance.

  Mathers threw the first punch, and Caitlyn timed a big shove against the bar to happen while the others were calling out encouragements. It seemed they wanted the other guy to win so they could fight him instead of Mathers.

  The bar came loose, leaving a jagged edge. She began working the rope back and forth. While the guys fought, her arms grew sore. This wasn’t a motion she was used to making. Still, she wasn’t weak. She was going to keep doing this until she was free.

  “Caitlyn, don’t turn around.”

  It was Grant’s voice, coming from the shadows behind her. She almost cried with relief.

  “I need to know if they’re looking this way,” he whispered. “Don’t say anything, just lift up one of your fingers if it’s safe for me to come over there and rip another bar from the cage.”

  Her heart thumped wildly in her chest. She couldn’t let Grant get caught by the others.

  The other guy growled and leaped at Mathers. All of them were distracted by the fight. She lifted her pinky and felt the cage jerk as one of the bars was ripped away.

  Grant’s hands came over her upper arms and he helped lift her up, then guided her out of the cage. A second later, he tore away the rope binding her wrists.

  “How did you do that?” she whispered.

  “You got the break in the rope started,” he said, leaning into her and pressing his face into her hair. “Fuck, I was so scared for you. Here.” Grant pressed something warm and hard into her hand. The crystal. “Take this and go to the witch.”