Bound to Change: A Limited Edition Spring Shifter Romance Collection

by Margo Bond Collins

  Carlyle snarled, weary of keeping these two on track, especially Menin. “Shut up, you fool. She’s the power we need to finish our plan—everything we’ve worked toward over the last ten years. We just have to coddle her along a little more. Once we fix the scales of Maat to our favor, we won’t need her anymore. We do this before her eighteenth birthday. Then we’ll have ultimate power.”

  Protus asked, “What do you intend to do?”

  “We keep her away from anything associated with the constellation Orion and continue to foster her love. Right now, Zephyr is the light of her life. We maintain her focus upon him, which keeps her attention off us; we continue building the spell to capture the scales and everything will work out as we’ve planned. As it is, all we have to do is maintain the status quo.”

  “You two play with fire,” Menin complained.

  Carlyle shot him a quelling glance. “You knew the karmic risks in stealing the scale of Maat when you signed up.”

  Menin stared vacantly at the last place Aija was seen. “Karma isn’t the fire I speak of.”

  Silence grew, rife with static and turbulent thoughts. Emotional energy ricocheted about, louder than words.

  Carlyle pointed at Menin. “I can smell your anxiety. I suggest you work on a spell to tone down your fear.”

  “She’s more powerful than all of us,” Menin spat vehemently in response. “If that doesn’t give you pause, you’re the fool. I’m sure she’s cloaking her powers. We have no idea what she can do.”

  Protus snapped, his usual calm manner strained by Menin’s agitation. “You agree to dare a universal force like karma, yet you quake in the shadow of a young girl. Get a hold of yourself, Menin. We’re all in this together. Success will provide us material wealth, enormous power and eternal freedom from karma.” He delivered this with a meaningful glance. “And we’re all connected.”

  “He’s right,” Carlyle added. “Our strength is measured by our weakest link, and right now that looks like you.”

  “Perhaps it’s best if you go into isolation. Stay away from her,” Protus suggested.

  Menin exhaled heavily. “Gladly. I’ll go into sequester, available only to you for the spell work.”

  Waves of relief rolled off Menin as he stepped away to leave. When his footsteps echoed his retreat, Protus whispered, “Do you have her under control?”

  “Control a child the legends have deemed a goddess?” The laughter of a maniac bubbled in Carlyle’s throat, but he swallowed the madness and rocked back on his heels. Needing to control his own trepidations, he repeated his words from the night of her birth. “I certainly hope so.”

  ORION FLOATED IN THE high thermal currents above the valley beyond the usual fields they hunted in. Nasri had asked for pork, so they ranged farther away from the trees and into the tall grasses.

  Tracking the animals in the high grass was ridiculously easy. With the girls handling the hunting, he turned toward the wagon to collect their kills. While he flew, his bird nature constantly scanned the ground near and far for items of interest.

  On the edge of the trees bordering the fields, he saw a blur of movement. The girl and her horse sped as if the beast lifted from the ground.

  He flew overhead, still high in the thermals and tracked her. Even from this distance, he detected the shine in her hair, the sparkle in her laughter, the muscled strength in her limbs.

  She’s spectacular.

  Wanting to see more, he came lower, skirting the trees as she drew the horse to the edge of the shade. He landed in a treetop nearby and watched as she unpacked her bags.

  First came a blanket she placed beneath a tree. Next, she brought out cheese and bread and meat, along with a skin of drink. And lastly, an apple from the bottom of the bag for the horse, who eagerly took it from her hand. “Zephyr, you’re the love of my life, did you know that?” She scrubbed the long black forelock that fell into his eyes. Laughter rose, a pure sound so magical, Orion wondered if she was real.

  He stayed with her as she hummed and prepared her feast. When she spoke to the horse, her voice mesmerized him, as did the color of her hair and her lean, muscular legs. ‘You’re beautiful!’he squawked.

  She glanced up, showing him her ice blue eyes and the beauty of her face, the line of her jaw, her high cheekbones and full questioning lips. He shrank against the tree, hiding in the shadows, yet he felt like she looked straight at him with curiosity. A moment later, she returned to her meal.

  Soon the girls began calling him, and he lifted out of the tree, circling south, thinking about the girl with the beautiful eyes.

  By the time he reached the wagon, his birds waited for him impatiently. Sorry, but I found something. He hastily collected the piglets, loaded the wagon and headed home, all the while with one image in his mind ... the girl on the horse.

  He forced his thoughts into routine, and settled business at the market and fed the girls. As they tore into their meal, the girl on the horse rose in his thoughts again. “Wealthy by her appearance; who is she?” he mused. Her manners and grace indicated wealth as much as her attire and horse. But she was beyond wealthy. She was simply—

  The most exquisite creature I’ve ever see.

  His chin sagged open as he recalled the arch of her eyebrows, the clarity in her eye, the silken fall of her hair. His heart pounded and his mouth went dry, wanting to know more about her. “Stop,” he commanded. “She’s obviously beyond your reach, so let her go.”

  But the command was difficult to obey.

  He refused to think about her all the way home. Once settled in his small hut beyond the city animal grounds, he prepared a simple dinner of flatbread and roast quail with greens and radishes. For all his earlier hyped-up state of mind, he munched quietly, gazing into the fire while his mind processed his day’s emotions.

  I’ve never seen anyone with so much elegance and beauty. What else? It’s like she saw me—no, saw into me and touched me.

  “Mother, I wish you were here,” he said softly, missing her deeply since she passed last winter from a sickness. “Is this girl my destiny? She’s certainly turned my life upside down.” Just the thought of her set his heart racing with desire to be close to her, to hear her voice again and touch her, to know all about her.

  He rubbed his left thumb over his right palm as though he could remove the mark and the stain on his life placed by the shaman’s decree.

  “What does a delirious, babbling old man know?” he protested, wishing he could throw off the weight of his curse, whatever it might or might not be. By virtue of its presence, it burdened him. Wondering how different his life might have been, he said, “Too bad the shaman didn’t choke on his words.”

  In spite of his command to let her go, the girl became his obsession. Every day while his birds hunted, he wandered farther afield in search of the girl and her horse, sometimes going out of eyesight by miles until he spotted her. When he found her, he hid nearby and gazed at her with bird eyes and a human brain. At times, he wondered if she came to these remote places to be alone.

  One day she sang a soft song, lulling him with her voice and the unmitigated joy of being near her, when a shriek of pain and fear erupted in his mind. Recognizing one of his girls, he cried out, Falcon!

  When the bird gave no return answer, terror struck his heart, for he knew she was dead. Her mind link had gone empty. Falcon! he cried again and lifted off, racing for his lost girl, knowing her death was his fault.

  He reached the wagon. Her carcass lay on the ground. In his absence, she’d returned to the wagon with her prey, only to be struck down by a larger predator. Her kill was gone and she was torn to shreds, likely as she tried to fight off the thief.

  Dropping to his knees, he wept. “Falcon, I’m so sorry. I should have been there, should have protected you.” He stroked the sleek feathers on the top of her head, releasing tears heavy with guilt.

  Knowing the bird’s death was all his responsibility, he never wanted to see the girl on the b
lack horse again.

  AIJA RODE TO HER FAVORITE picnic spot and spread her blanket on the ground. Unpacking, she glanced about, searching for the raven with not only her eyes but her mind. “I know you’re out there. Come on in. Don't be afraid,” she muttered under her breath. She passed the time talking with Zephyr, her greatest confidant. “Z, where’d our friend go?”

  Do you smell or hear him?

  The stallion snorted and flicked his ears, but shook his head.

  Yeah, that’s what I thought. He’s gone.

  She returned from her afternoon ride. Zephyr received his ration of grain and she settled him into his paddock for the night. After the evening meal, she sat before her mirror, brushing her hair, thinking about the missing presence.

  “He comes every day for weeks, then just disappears. I wonder who he is?” She’d first detected him the day he squawked. She hadn’t seen him, but her mind found his, guarded and protected even though he hid deep in the shadows. Every day after, she attempted to breach his mind, but he was locked up. “Probably never linked with another human,” she mused. “He just doesn’t know how.”

  She settled in her bed and allowed her mind to relax even though curiosity lingered at the edge of unconsciousness. Eventually, she drifted to the dream state, below theta and delta, the state where all the Universe was within reach.

  Who is he? Where do I find him?

  The dream state shifted and she was flying, not on Z’s back or on the west wind, but on the wings of an emotion she’d never experienced. A warm giddy sensation collected in her core and flowed out through her limbs. She writhed with an unanswered need for something she couldn’t identify, something she’d never experienced.

  Heat coursed through her body like molten desire—for what she couldn’t say. All she knew was she needed this consummation, needed this joining, needed this unknown element as though her life depended on it.

  Still she sped through the clouds, the ground a dizzying distance below, until she noticed the others who flew with her. A hawk, an owl, and a raven. They moved over in flight, allowing her to take the empty space in their formation.

  The raven. It’s you!

  But he ignored her until he suddenly looked at her with human eyes. Amber colored human eyes filled with anger. The air swirled around her, mixed with her thoughts, and replaced her curiosity with discovery.

  Now I know what you look like.

  AIJA TOOK TO THE STREETS in search of amber eyes. She set her internal awareness to anger, searching for not just the eyes, but the energy signature of that emotion.

  Why is he angry? Did he lose someone? Perhaps the missing member in the flying formation?

  Her fascination with this raven shifter amused and surprised her. For all she knew he was an ancient shaman who liked to play games.

  No. These eyes were young and hot, untouched by the chill of a long life.

  Her mission to find him began in the market place. She moved on to the stables, the classrooms, and the craft associations searching the faces of blacksmiths, potters, spinners, embroiders, clothiers, bakers, candy and candlestick makers. Finally, she made it to the butchery in the late afternoon.

  After searching one end of Atlantis to the other, she had nothing. With hands on hips, she scanned the dispersing crowd that scurried about completing late day business. Purveyor stalls were shutting down and small game hunters were leaving after having unloaded the proceeds from their day’s hunt.

  She huffed with impatience. Then the crowd parted, leaving her with the rear end view of a wagon pulling away. In the back, an owl and a hawk sat in cages side by side.

  An owl and a hawk from my dream.

  Pointing to the retreating wagon, she asked a passing merchant, “Do you know him?”

  The man craned his neck to see. “Oh, that’s Orion. He’s a hunter with three rather fine birds, or at least he had three birds. He’s the best hunter in the fields.”

  The wagon got smaller and smaller as it pulled away. “Does he have amber eyes?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, he does. Very striking and intense—like he is. Have you met him?”

  “Briefly,” she answered. “He was angry. Do you know why?”

  “He recently lost one of his birds to a predator. Maybe that’s why?”

  The merchant turned away, leaving her with her thoughts.Having heard all she needed, she cloaked herself with a flick of her fingers and ran after the wagon.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Aija slipped off the back of the wagon, silent and cloaked, undetectable except for her breath and her tracks. She kept to the short grass so her footsteps wouldn’t show and her breathing couldn’t be heard. From the outside corner of his abode, she watched as he set the fire, pulled a plucked bird from his ruck sack and staked it over the fire. She watched close, impatient for a good view of him as he set about doing his chores.

  Come on, let me see you.

  From her stationary position, the opportunity finally came.She got a full-on view of his face when he froze and whipped around, staring her way at one point. She held her breath, fearing he could somehow detect her, but he turned back to preparing his meal.

  It was a good thing she held her breath, for she’d have gasped otherwise. Shoulder length raven black hair tied back from his face highlighted his sculpted cheek bones, strong nose, and full lips over a cleft chin. In the center of all this male beauty, his amber eyes simmered.

  What drives you my beauty?

  After his meal, he moved inside and brought his birds in. She watched through the open window as he lit a solitary candle. He settled the birds, saying goodnight with sorrow lacing his voice. “I’m sorry we lost her, girls. It was my fault.”

  The eagle nipped at his fingers and he stroked its head. The owl fluttered its wings, drawing his attention; he smoothed her ruff back down. The bird trilled and moved closer for his touch.

  “We’ll find another falcon. And I promise not to wander off like that again.”

  Aija drew back, understanding.

  The falcon was lost because he followed and watched me.

  Death was a part of life. But she didn’t like death to come because of her. With him being one bird down that meant his ability to hunt had been impacted.

  In a sense, my fault.

  Having covered the bird cages, he poured water in a bowl and removed his leggings and shirt. When he reached for the soap, the candlelight shone across his right hand, dark and stained from handling the birds.

  No, the glove should have left his hand less exposed and pale.

  He took the soap and cloth and lathered his face, torso and arms before rinsing the cloth and wiping away the suds.

  Her breath caught in her chest and she forced herself not to gasp again as the soapy cloth slid over bulging arms and firm chest muscles. A sudden firing of energy in her core registered her appreciation of his form. Her nipples tensed and her knees sagged as her legs yearned to open for this incredible man so he could lay claim to her.

  He dropped his short pants and soaped the cloth again. As her mouth went dry with longing, he lathered each leg then drew the cloth over his considerable manhood, cupping his sack.

  She wanted to cry out, to see him up close, wanted to touch his exquisite body. But she was held captive in a silent and invisible cloak. She allowed him to rinse before she snapped her fingers to stop time. She darted in beside him, but held her palms back as they screamed to caress him. His male flesh attracted her eye. His muscular legs begged for her to climb on for a ride, and his solid buttocks left her empty hands aching. As she circled around him, she got another view of his hand.

  Peering up close, she struggled to accept what her eyes told her. She took a step back.

  Not possible! He bears the same mark as I.

  After scurrying out the door, she snapped her fingers. Time flowed again. Orion shivered and looked about before grabbing a towel.

  She had seen enough. Perhaps too much. She backed into the dar
k of night, leaving behind the beautiful body, the molten eyes, and the mark of Orion.

  The next morning, she cloaked herself and waited for him next to the wagon. She stayed out of his way as he loaded the bird cages and started out. When the wagon rolled over a pot hole, she eased onto the back gate.

  He was a quiet man. She wondered what he thought about in the long stretch of silence as the wagon left the city behind. She could try to mind tap him, but as closed as his raven mind was, she doubted she could reach his human mind without causing a stir.

  The wagon edged into the trees and he unharnessed and hobbled the horse, then freed and launched the birds into the air. Aija tip-toed closer, knowing he was about to disrobe. He dropped his shirt and leggings, leaving his short pants on top of the stack, revealing his incredibly beautiful human form for bare seconds. With a sound like the wing of a passing bird, he became a raven and lifted into the air.

  I know what you look like, where you work, and where you live. But who are you, Orion?

  Knowing he would be gone for the day, she returned to the city. She went to the stables and took Zephyr to the grove of trees for a brushing; she had much to tell him.

  She stroked the brush down his back and across his flanks, reminded of the fine form on Orion. She’d never met a man she wanted ... until now. Until now, she thought she’d end up a high priestess. Until now, that made her happy.

  “He’s spectacular, like you Z. Muscles in all the right places. And he’s good to his animals—that says a lot about a person.”

  A smile teased her lips into a grin. “And he has a nice ... you know. Down there.” She flicked her eyebrows with knowing as she gazed at the ground. Thoughts about a man’s private parts had never entered her mind. All her life there had been lessons and classes and new things to learn, keeping her too busy to think about ... the passionate side of life. This new line of thought rushed into her mind, exposing a question.