Bound to Change: A Limited Edition Spring Shifter Romance Collection

by Margo Bond Collins

  Isaiah released the breath he hadn't known he was holding. "Not really. Are you craving any particular foods? Feeling any overwhelming urges to bury a bone in the yard or take flight from the roof?"

  "Ha ha, very funny." Poppy stirred some coconut sugar into her coffee thoughtfully, her eyes unfocused as she gazed out the window. "Other than being tired and wanting a bowl of cantaloupe, no."

  "Sounds fairly normal to me," Legend said. "But I ain't a doctor. Hey, Owen! Good mornin'!"

  Owen nodded succinctly to each of them in turn and waved them in to the living room where Asveen had joined them sometime earlier. The darker-skinned man stood at military ease, hands clasped behind his back, feet apart, a serene smile on his face. His black curls were tied back loosely with a bright red scrunchie that seemed out of place with his rather no-nonsense character. Poppy offered him a quick, uncertain smile as she perched on the edge of the couch, while Legend barely suppressed a suspicious glare. Isaiah seemed indifferent to the foreign shifter's appearance in their home, although he assessed him carefully in his own way. Only Owen seemed truly at ease in the man's presence.

  "Hello again," Asveen said softly, tilting his head respectfully at the room in general. "I am only here for a short time, I promise. Once I have heard the tale your Alpha is to spin for you, and shared what information you all deem pertinent, I will continue on my way. It is, unfortunately, too dangerous for me to remain in one place for too long at this time. Perhaps one day I may return."

  Owen nodded subtly at him and motioned the man to sit as he lowered himself into an overstuffed and rather lumpy recliner that looked like it had seen better days. It was several dullshades of green, in a tartan pattern accented with frazzled-but still sparkly-gold threads throughout. It must have been with Owen for a very long time, as the tension visibly melted from him as he sunk deeper into the cushions with a lengthy sigh.

  "Now," the older man said, his gruff voice settling into the tone which Legend and Isaiah recognized as his 'storyteller mode' as they joined Poppy on the couch, "this is a rather boring recounting of our origins, Poppy, but you've not yet heard the tale and it is quite a crucial bit of information. Especially as it pertains to your, em, aunt. Please, no interruptions until I've finished. Wouldn't want me to lose track and have to begin again. Ahem.

  "Sorcery is a term often used by the uninitiated and ignorant to explain away the practice of black magic, powers utilized to manipulate the universe for the sorcerer's own ends. The alleged exploits of such characters stretch so far back in time that their true origin can never be truly known, though for the purpose of this tale we may trace them to Italy and Greece.

  "Please understand, not all sorcerers had malicious intentions. One notable benevolent sorcerer in particular was a Roman poet, Publius Vergilius Maro. You would probably recognize him better by a shortened version of his name, yes? Perhaps you recognize the name Vergil, eh? I see by the quirking of your brow in disbelief that his shortened nomenclature is one you do, in fact, know. He was said to have learned his magic from twelve devils whom he released from a bottle found in his vineyard. He reputedly furthered his knowledge of the arcane by visiting a famous sorcerer who lived in a place known as the Mountain of Sorrows; he later founded a school for sorcerers in Naples.

  "One of his students, a man with a dark and tragic past-because don't they all have a dark and tragic history?-became a powerful sorcerer in his own right, if not so well known. Veranius Septimus grew swiftly in his abilities, and eventually withdrew into the ruins of an already ancient village to practice his malign magics, which included nefarious practices like transfixion (all the easier to pick pockets), divination (to locate future victims-even far into the future), and even zoomorphism (the practice of becoming an animal in order to learn more about it-which was accompanied by some interesting side-effects).

  "Veranius took on two apprentices at that time-a young woman named Hestia Praxxos, and a man nearing his dotage called simply Actaeon. When asked, the old man merely said that all his family were gone and he was the last. (It was later learned by Hestia that he was, in fact, the very same Actaeon of mythology; the hunter who had been torn apart by his own dogs and was then transformed into a deer, thus becoming the hunted.

  "In actuality, he had survived, turning on the pack of dogs and beating them all to death with his hooves, goring them with his antlers. He suffered weeks of severe fevers, hallucinations, and uncontrollable shifts between his human and animal forms. When his symptoms at last subsided, he was left with heightened senses, greater vitality, and longer life-but accompanied by outbursts of fur, antlers, and hooves. And something else.

  "Upon his arrival at Veranius' school, Actaeon was nearly four-hundred years old.

  "Veranius demanded that Actaeon reveal to himself and Hestia the secrets of becoming an animal, but though Actaeon tried (under duress) he didn't know how. In a fit of rage, Veranius attempted to kill the old man with an antimony dagger dipped in deadly poison, then turned the blade on Hestia. The brittle blade sliced her arm and broke off in her flesh. The intense pain caused the volatile mixture of Actaeon's blood, antimony blade, and the subtle poison to surge through her system, reacting with her magic. She shifted, rather dramatically, into a huge brindled Mastiff-and subsequently ate Veranius.

  "Hestia stayed on with Actaeon for many years after their Shifter bodies purged all of the poison. They learned many things unique to their "race" and penned several scrolls and books detailing items and articles which would prove of interest to any others suffering their "ailment".

  "After a few decades, Hestia (still young and beautiful) fell in love with a human named Markus. They had four children, three of whom carried the Shifter blood. The fourth was seemingly human, although the gene merely remained dormant. Hestia lived on long after the passing of her husband, hiding her eternally youthful face behind a veil and going into seclusion with Actaeon until his eventual death. She watched and guarded her bloodline, occasionally guiding them back into the Shifter community when they went astray. Eventually her immortality drove her quite mad-it happens sometimes as we age, that our minds and hearts can no longer keep up with our bodies-and she became Yasmeena, then Jasmine, both times attempting to ingratiate herself with sorcerers and Shifters who shared some of her madness."

  Owen fell silent, and the room was still as the Shifters within allowed his story to sink in. At long last, Asveen stirred, seeming to shake off the lethargy brought on by Owen's raspy voice and the subtle magic it carried.

  "A wondrous tale, my friend," the darker man stated softly. He tipped his head at the Alpha and unclasped his hands from behind his back, stretching slightly as he prepared to leave. "I must be off, alas. It would be nice to be able to remain and make some new friends. The world at large is not always friendly to those of us who are different. Poppy-", he turned his gaze toward the young woman. "You have matured beautifully in the space of only a few hours. The Shift will be kind, I think. As it seems to be with the Takala line. Though I believe that you are the first redhead among them since...hmm. If memory serves, the last Takala to have such brilliant hair was Kana Akane, She of the Black Blade. She was kitsune, and had hair like the fox she became, with a face scarred black across the right eye and cheek from the timbers which fell upon her when the family shrine burned with her inside. She trained with obsidian weapons until she was more deadly than any Samurai. All the men of Japan were terrified of her. You remind me of her, although she passed from this world to the next over four-hundred and thirty-seven years ago."

  Poppy studied him silently, understanding dawning in her eyes.

  "You loved her, didn't you." She stated, and Asveen nodded, a single tear escaping as he sighed.

  "I did. In many ways I still do. There will never be another for me. Farewell, Poppy Marie Takala. May you always walk tenderly in the skin which finds you."

  With a nod of farewell to the other males in the room, Asveen left as silently as a shadow, the door only
making a soft snick as it closed. Poppy turned to Owen.

  "Owen...you know those dreams I told you about before? About Cato?" Legend and Isaiah looked surprised-they hadn't known that she had spoken to Owen much at all, but Poppy was good at keeping secrets-but wisely kept quiet. "He showed up again last night. He told me that his alpha had met with Jasmine recently, that all of the North American packs are now searching for her. That she's gone into hidi-"

  "Poppy? Poppy!" Legend was the first out of his seat and at her side. Her eyes had gone blank, her mouth slack as she gazed unseeingly straight ahead. Isaiah too crouched before her, waving his hand back-and-forth in front of her face. He looked at Owen and shook his head, and the Alpha smoothed a hand which trembled only slightly down his bearded face.

  "Perhaps this Cato has found a way to communicate while she is awake. We shall wait. Give it a few moments, before we worry overmuch."

  POPPY TOOK A LONG, deep breath and blinked rapidly upon coming back to herself. She drew back on realizing that all three males were in a tight semi-circle around her, and giggled, covering her mouth as she did so. Isaiah smiled softly at her as he gently took her hand.

  "Doing okay?" He asked, and she nodded.

  "Was it Cato?" Owen asked, leaning slightly forward. "Did he have more information?"

  Poppy nodded, her hand slipping away from her pink lips, her cheeks warming with a soft blush. "Yes. Jasmine met with his alpha again. It was supposed to be secret, but there are some other shifters in their pack who are growing mistrustful of the alpha and his lack of proper leadership. They tracked him and witnessed the meeting, then brought the news back to Cato." She sighed shakily, then smiled, her eyes meeting Owen's. "My parents are still alive! Jasmine has them secreted away, under some kind of a stasis spell deep in-get this-a cornfield. In Iowa, of all places. Hidden-Cato said they may even be underground somewhere, if she wanted to ensure that the pack couldn't easily find them. But-oh, Owen!-they're alive!"

  The Alpha laid a warm hand upon her shoulder and gave her a gentle squeeze. "That is very good news. If they are further away, it will take Jasmine longer to return to check on them-it gives us time to locate and extract them before she knows that we're on to her. Legend, you will come with me to bring Poppy's parents home. Isaiah will remain here with you, my dear-"

  "I don't need a babysitter-"

  "And so you don't. You are approximately twenty-three now, after all." She felt Owen's grin before she glanced up and saw it. "However, you have entered the beginning stages of your first Shift. I cannot, and will not, leave you without assistance. It can be dangerous, even deadly, without preparation and assistance. Many younglings have died during their first Shift, as they attempted to get through it-or were forced to-alone. Isaiah is a seasoned healer. And you trust him. He will stay with you, and that is final." Poppy blinked as she felt the power of his Alpha-command, soft-spoken though it was. She offered a tiny, abrupt nod before averting her gaze to the study of her nervous hands, her fingers playing at undoing a knot in the frayed edge of the couch blanket between her knees. Owen patted her shoulder as he stood, and Legend ruffled his long fingers in her hair.

  "See ya soon, kid," he said, smirking. "Don't give Isaiah too much trouble while we're gone, a'ight?"

  He and Owen left swiftly via the back door, the sound of the engine revving and gravel crunching being the last thing either Poppy or Isaiah heard of their exit. They turned their eyes on one another, and Isaiah offered her a warm, reassuring smile.

  "Are you interested in trying to bring on your Change faster?"

  Poppy grinned. "Wouldn't it be wonderful if I knew my new shape before they come back? Yes! How?"

  Isaiah stood, wincing as his knees crackled, and offered his hand to her, drawing her up. Her bare toe caught the edge of the oval braided rug, sending her stumbling forward into Isaiah's chest, and his arms immediately encased her, holding her close for a moment. The pair stood that way, shock keeping them from moving. Poppy could hear Isaiah's heart thrumming, and the whoosh of blood in his veins. The motion of his breathing soothed her, and she found herself closing her eyes to listen. His scent embraced her like a warm blanket-the smell of leather, woodsmoke, snow, and the pine forest. Nothing like Cato, yet it set her pulse racing and drove the butterflies in her tummy wild. She brought a hand up, resting it on his chest for a moment before gently pushing him away.

  Isaiah himself had been very slightly nuzzling his nose into her hair, breathing deep of the scent that was uniquely Poppy. Vanilla, berries, honey, and something creamy and sweet but unidentifiable, like milk and sugar. He sighed when she pushed him away, but he released her anyway. She was precious, she was everything-but she wasn't his. He wasn't worthy of her. He studied her for a moment, then turned away, shoving his hands in his pockets as he led the way into a side room.

  Poppy followed uncertainly. Isaiah had grown suddenly quiet, the moment grown awkward-but she soon forgot that when she saw the room he led her into.

  The walls were covered in floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, every book a medical or reference text. A large mahogany desk took center-stage, the pens and other objects upon it each seeming to have their own purposeful place. There was an ostentatiously ugly orange fainting couch sitting at a rakish angle in front of the desk. Isaiah waved his hand at it in disgust, quirking a smile at Poppy.

  "Owen's. I don't know where he found the gods-awful thing, but it has been living here in my office for years. I'd get rid of it while he's away, but I think he would make me pay for that decision for years. And I have no wish to be punished for what may well be centuries. Come." He gestured at the couch as he took his place behind the massive desk. "We should make a plan of attack, if you want to be able to show off your new form when your parents come home."

  Poppy grinned and plopped down, drawing her legs up and tucking her feet beneath her thighs as she clasped her hands beneath her chin, elbows resting on her knees and her eyes twinkling with excitement.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Hey, Diary, me again. I know I haven't really written much for-well, like, a month. But sooo much has happened! Mom and dad are still out there somewhere, Aunt Jasmine turned out to be this insane witch-shifter hybrid and she kidnapped them and hid them in Iowa somewhere. I met these really amazing guys-they're Shifters, too, but like, the IMPORTANT kind. They're strong and handsome and they smell AMAZING. Oh, and guess what? I'm one too. Not a dude, lol, but a Shifter. I don't know what I turn into yet-something with dark red fur on my body that craves fruit like you wouldn't believe-but I haven't been able to make the full Change yet. Isaiah says it'll probably take a shock to the system. Like what, I don't know. Maybe seeing mom and dad again? Shoot-Isaiah's calling me down for dinner. Gotta go!

  Love, Poppy

  "I FINALLY WROTE IN my diary again." Poppy said, sailing her spoon through the cilantro soup Isaiah had set before her. He glanced up at that, surprised.

  "I'm glad," he told her, making sure to catch some of the rice from the bottom of the bowl in his own spoon along with the savory broth. "It'll be nice to have something to look back on after you've gotten your parents back and successfully made the Change. I wish I had thought to keep a journal when I was younger. Or at all, really."

  "You never did?"

  Isaiah shook his head thoughtfully, swallowing his mouthful of food before continuing. "No. Never saw the need. What can I say? I wasn't a studious young man. It took me a long time to become interested in learning, even longer to find my niche as a healer. Don't worry," he said as Poppy turned pensive, her brow furrowing. "You'll find what your calling is. Believe me-you have time."

  Poppy grinned and dug back into her soup with gusto.

  SHE WAS RINSING OUT her dishes when she felt a tingle in her brain and vertigo drove her to the floor. The bowl clattered to the bottom of the soapy water in the farmhouse-style sink. Poppy pressed the heels of her hands into her temples as she grimaced and squeezed her eyes shut, doubling over and trying desperately
to hold herself together. After a few head-splitting seconds of tingling and vibration and something like static, she saw something approaching from the shadows behind her eyeballs.

  "Hey, it's okay! It's just me! Here-" Cato helped her to her feet in the space that was her mind, gripping her arms until she was steady. "I didn't mean to hurt you-"

  "No, it isn't that," she said, tilting her face upwards and gazing into his eyes. "It didn't exactly hurt, but it's always unexpected when I'm awake. Makes me dizzy."

  Cato nodded and led her over to a crumbling brick wall, lacing his fingers through hers as they sat together quietly. After some time, he turned to her, concern etched across his features.

  "I have some more information." He studied their conjoined hands intently. "About where we are. The pack, I mean. It's-the situation-it isn't good, Poppy. He's killing us. One by one, sadistic and brutal and utterly senseless murders. Even the younglings who are helpless because they haven't reached their majority yet and are incapable of the Change. I need you to tell Owen. We've tried to contact the Sovereign, but he's MIA, it seems."

  "The Sovereign?"

  "Shit. I keep forgetting that this is all new to you. The Sovereign is the Shifter above all others. Only he has the true power to put a definite stop to things like this. He could probably end Jasmine in the matter of a few moments, as well-but he's unreachable. Owen is his heir."

  Poppy found herself flabbergasted. She took a deep, calming breath-and at that moment heard Isaiah's voice as though from a long distance away. Cato tilted his head.

  "There isn't time. Listen-I may have to run, and soon. I won't let Seth kill me. I'll try to save as many of the others in our pack as I can, but-listen. I'm going to give you this information directly, mind to mind. It's faster and easier for Purebloods like me and, if I've been right about your heritage, for you, too. Hold still."