Bound to Change: A Limited Edition Spring Shifter Romance Collection

by Margo Bond Collins

  Cato placed his hands to either side of her head and touched his forehead to hers. She was inundated with a flurry of images and sounds, followed by the whitest light she had ever seen.

  SHE AWOKE TO ISAIAH cradling her head in his lap, smoothing the hair from her sweaty forehead. Her eyes met his with the most serious look he had ever witnessed from her.

  "We need to call Owen. Now."

  He asked no questions, merely flipped open his cell and pressed the speed-dial button. Poppy snorted at the old-school Nokia and he flashed her a sheepish grin. "Hey, if it ain't broke, don't fix it. Here-" He passed the phone to her as she sat up and he stood, his knee popping as he stretched his leg with a glance down at her. "You're heavier than you look. My damn leg fell asleep."

  Owen finally picked up on the other end.

  "There's no time, just listen. Cato told me that his alpha, Seth, is killing off their pack. One by one. It's torture, plain and simple. He said they've tried to reach the Sovereign, but that he's gone missing. Seth is working with Jasmine, and they're probably zeroing in on your location. There's no time for anything, not anymore." Poppy spoke fast, enunciating each word with precision in a businesslike manner which all but proved that she had, in fact, greatly matured.

  Owen's response was swift and sure. "We've already gotten your parents to safety. I won't say where, we don't know who may be listening. Legend and I will return home soon, and we will decide what to do about Seth. I remember a few weaknesses which may greatly help us in this situation. Reach out to Cato-if I'm correct, the connection he shares with you can go both ways. Have him bring those he can save to the house. They will be safe there. Isaiah knows a few protective wards that can be enacted using the Old Magic. Stay safe. We'll see you soon."

  The line went dead and Poppy returned the phone to Isaiah, who slipped it into the back pocket of his faded jeans. He took her hand and gently helped her to her feet as she passed Owen's message along the stream of her thoughts to Cato. Bring them. Bring them all. There is safety here. An image of their home, this sprawling manor house in the middle of nowhere, went with those thoughts, and then she smiled wearily at Isaiah and squeezed his fingers reassuringly.

  "Now we wait," she said softly, before a sudden violent shudder overtook her. She bit down on the cry that escaped her lips, and through the glimmer in the air Isaiah thought he saw her human form become that of a giant golden-crowned flying fox, a type of huge bat with a wingspan approaching 5.5'. She shimmered, the tips of her clawed fingers scrabbling for purchase on the tiled floor, clumsy with her newly lengthened arms, shorter and much, much lighter body, and leathery wings. Isaiah's eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline as Poppy squawked with what must have been confusion and consternation, before she again shuddered and glimmered, returning to her human form.

  Shoving her hair out of her eyes, she glanced bemusedly up at the older Shifter.

  "Well. I suppose we've got quite the homecoming to prepare, haven't we?"

  THE END

  About the Author

  AMANDA SIEVERT CURRENTLY lives in Wichita Falls, Texas with her two daughters. She is diligently crafting the next book in the All Her Shifters series, of which Between Worlds is the first.

  ORION OVER ATLANTIS

  Dana Lyons

  About Orion Over Atlantis

  Legend speaks of a Goddess that rises from Atlantis with Orion at her side.

  Aija, a power and force to be reckoned with.

  Orion, cursed at birth, or so he thought.

  Are they fated lovers?

  Or star-crossed and doomed?

  In a land long ago, a powerful young woman discovers a conspiracy of corruption that will destroy all. When a fated lover enters her life, she must decide what’s most important.

  It’s a game of love versus power. Can she defeat an evil that would curse them as star-crossed? Will true hearts win? Or will evil tear them asunder?

  CHAPTER ONE

  THE CONTINENT OF ATLANTIS

  Nasri panted in between labor pains, determined not to scream with the birth of this special child. In the corner of their hut, her husband Meta paced, his face rippled with concern.

  By the fire pit, the shaman spread a sacred cloth along with crystals, a vial of anointing oil, and sage to cleanse the babe’s aura after the trauma of birth. As her labor pains progressed, the shaman muttered and glanced at the fire, a disturbing frown on his face. Despite his worrisome behavior, her time was almost here and she grabbed the midwife’s hand. “Help me up.”

  The midwife exclaimed, “Madam, you are about to give birth. You can’t go walking about!”

  Nasri gave the woman a sharp glance. “Outside. I will have this baby under the night sky. Now help me up.”

  Meta rushed over. “Nasri, what is it?”

  “Fear not,” she soothed. “I merely want fresh air and a night sky for our son’s birth. I promise.” She smiled and squeezed his hand.

  He nodded and wrapped his arm about her shoulders. Between him and the midwife, they carried her outside and placed her on a blanket against a tree. Gasping with an oncoming pain, she glanced at the hunter in the sky, Orion, especially noticeable as the comet Corbo, named for its raven-like wings, flew across the middle of the constellation.

  Another pain cut across her abdomen just as the raven comet cut across Orion. Unable to hold back any longer, she screamed into the empty landscape.

  “Push, now, madam,” the midwife ordered. “Your babe eagerly fights to join the living.”

  Nasri threw her head back and pushed with all her might, screaming with the pain, with the need to have this over, with the determination of a woman birthing a special child. As the baby’s head emerged, a wave of relief came and she slumped against the tree, gathering her strength for the next push.

  “The babe is fine and the nose is cleared. Now, madam, give your all to bring this child fully into life.”

  As Nasri inhaled to gather her remaining strength, she noticed the shaman. He stood rigid and obviously possessed by a vision, with a large crystal clutched in his hands. But the time had come for her child and she closed her eyes, grunted and pushed, shrieking with the effort.

  A mass ejected from her body, bringing incredible relief. She sagged, crying, and held out her arms. “My babe. Let me see my—”

  “Son,” the midwife said. “You have born a son.” She wiped the boy clean and held him up for all to see.

  Nasri’s heart filled with incomprehensible love for this young life. She had dreamed of his arrival, dreamed of his future, dreamed of his destiny.

  The shaman walked over, his trance having passed, and grabbed the boy’s right hand. “Look.” He pried the tiny fist open and revealed a cluster of several dark freckles and moles in the shape of the Orion constellation in his palm. “Born beneath the light of Orion, he bears the mark.”

  “See,” Nasri told Meta, “I told you he would be special.”

  The midwife tugged the baby loose from the shaman’s hold, wrapped him in a soft blanket, and placed the boy in Nasri’s arms. “What will you name him?”

  She took her son and nestled him next to her nipple. The baby’s lips attached to her breast and suckled, sending a shot of reaction through her body. Her placenta contracted and passed free as her abdomen was massaged. Her nipples hardened, and a searing desire to protect this tiny life ripped into her as deeply as the comet overhead ripped into Orion. She gazed at the shaman with his threatening expression. “What means this mark of Orion? What do you see happening to my son?”

  The shaman drew to his full height. “The child is cursed, doomed.”

  Unimpressed with the shaman’s baseless declaration, she held her baby tighter. “Explain yourself.”

  “He carries the mark of Orion and the raven comet.” He leaned over to whisper in her ear. “He is a raven shifter.”

  She sighed with relief. Bearing a shifter child was a blessing, one she welcomed. “But why is he cursed?”


  “The comet will return to destroy Orion.” He glared at the babe resting on her chest. “Just as he is destroyed,” he said pointing at the child with a scrawny finger, “so shall the land of Atlantis break asunder and fall into the sea.”

  A chill ran down her spine. Atlantis had always been doomed. Multiple prophesies spoke of the continent rising and sinking into the sea. She glanced at the red faced, dark haired little slip of life she held at her breast and refused to believe her son was a part of any of the prophesies. “Prattle on, old man. As a shifter he is blessed, and I shall name him Orion after the comet that brought him this gift from the gods.”

  The shaman’s beady gaze raked over her and her son. “Heed my words, for a time comes when the gods will take their blessing away. Hide the mark. Hide him.”

  THAT SAME DAY FIVE Years Later

  Nasri steeped a mixture of tree bark and ground shells in water, creating a dark brown dye. In the open field beside their home, Orion and Meta played a rousing game of stickball, using a pair of stout tree branches to pummel the ball, a sheep’s bladder stuffed with old rags.

  “Papa,” Orion called out in glee as his quick little legs carried him closer to the ball and he swept it into an overturned basket. “I win, Papa,” he cried.

  She glanced away, tears filling her eyes. She never forgot the shaman’s warning, and although she knew Orion was a good boy, using the stain assuaged her fears somewhat. She removed the pot from the fire and poured the contents into a glass container. When Orion and Meta ended their game and came in for water, she pulled her son aside. “Come, Orion. It’s time to darken your hand.”

  He stood still and let her brush the dye on his flesh. “I have a secret,” he whispered as if she didn’t know.

  She examined his hand. While the stain didn’t erase the mark, it did make it difficult to see. When he matured, she’d have to think of something else. For now, they maintained the secret. Like all mothers, she wanted a long life and happiness for her son. Not a moment passed when she didn’t wonder if one day he’d somehow escape the shaman’s words and be free of his supposed destiny. “Yes. You’re a very special boy and you have a secret. Actually, you have two secrets.” He admired the new application of stain once she released him.

  “The mark of Orion is one secret,” she said. “And the second secret is that you’re a raven, just like the comet.”

  The hand was dry and the mark obscured. He hugged her and planted a loud smack of his lips on her cheek. “Love you, Mama.”

  “I love you, son.”

  As he scampered off to play, the old trepidation invaded her heart, bringing the chill from the night of his birth, when the shaman announced he was cursed. She gazed at her precious boy, unable to prevent the tears from filling her eyes.

  Meta placed an arm on her shoulders. “Care not for what the shaman said. Our boy is his own person.”

  “We shall see,” she said. But deep in her heart, she wondered ...

  What will his destiny be?

  THAT SAME DAY IN THE City of Atlantis

  Carlyle, head priest in the Temple of Light, inserted a sheet of crystal embedded with pyramid record keepers into a slot in a marble console. Beside him, his fellow priests Menin and Protus watched as the invisible screen brightened with energy and light, displaying multiple moving images from the future, along with rows of symbols and text.

  Three pairs of eyes followed the action; three sets of shoulders slumped at the end. “What a horrific cataclysm. Have you plotted paths with a change of events?” Protus asked.

  “I’ve tried multiple options. The biggest problem is here.” Carlyle pointed to a spot of light in the background of the cosmos. “Venus crosses over both their birth lines, twice. Not only before their births ... but again after the catastrophic event.”

  His companions stared at the light of Venus, their faces displaying mutual understanding of the impact this astronomical event brought.

  Protus asked, “How do we out maneuver that?”

  Dejection dragged at Menin’s shoulders even more. “The appearance of Venus makes them fated lovers.”

  “But,” Carlyle said, pointing at the configuration of stars and planets at the time of the cataclysm, “there are two possible ways for this to go. This first appearance of Venus makes them fated lovers, but this second appearance makes them star-crossed lovers. If we steer her away from the fated lover, we facilitate the star-crossed lovers outcome. With a little diligence and effort, we can manipulate her fate to achieve the events we desire.”

  “How do you intend to do that?” Protus asked.

  Carlyle sent him a sharp glance. Silence fell around them like wet cotton, allowing each one the time to remotely stare off. After some moments, Carlyle answered. “We’ll do whatever we have to.” Considering the many rules they’d broken so far, the frightening specter of just how far they might go edged a little closer.

  “We can’t harm her before we steal the scale of Maat to wipe our karmic debt clean,” Menin insisted. “But I fear this child. She’s too powerful.” He glanced about, misery heavy on his shoulders.

  Fear and desperation flitted across their faces, an anomaly for men of their power.

  “So, what do we do? We need her,” Protus said.

  “We keep her trust,” Carlyle answered, coaxing them along. “We bind her to us until she’d never dream of crossing us.”

  A collective shiver raced from back to back, for they knew her power ...

  Able to kill them all.

  A servant came rushing into the room, head bowed. “Masters. Alyria’s labor is proceeding. It’s time.”

  Protus glanced about, his face wrinkled with anxiety. “Do you really think this babe about to be born is her?”

  “Without a doubt. But the mark, if she bears it, will confirm my fears,” Carlyle answered. He removed the sheet of crystal and inserted another. The screen lit with a view of the cosmos. “The raven comet will return, and eighteen years from this night when it crosses its previous path in Orion—” He stopped and shrugged. “Well, see for yourself.”

  On the screen, a speck of light entered from the right and circled behind Orion before coming to the foreground. Arriving from this direction, it crossed the constellation’s face from the opposite side whence it passed five years earlier. The comet reached the center of Orion’s belt and exploded, casting a field of debris and light that obscured the constellation. The explosion of light blinded, an astronomical event heralding the disaster looming over Atlantis.

  “Like the comet obliterating Orion,” Carlyle said, “she will bring the destruction to topple us into the sea.” As the comet’s explosion flared across the screen, an ancient quotation appeared at the bottom:

  Legend speaks of a Goddess rising from Atlantis with Orion at her side.

  Menin asked, “And who is this lover, fated or star-crossed? Do we know who he is?”

  “With the constellation destroyed, the Orion at her side must be her lover,” Protus offered. A dismal grimace of defeat filled his face. “Half the countryside named their sons Orion that night five years ago. There must be thousands.”

  Carlyle nodded. He couldn’t eliminate every boy named Orion. Neither could he afford to prevent her birth; he both feared and needed her. While he once considered slipping a potion to her mother during gestation, fear of her unknown power held his hand, even for one not yet born.

  She will be the goddess who destroys us all.

  “Not if I can help it,” he muttered.

  A scream tore through the night coming from the Temple of Life. The child they feared more than anything in the cosmos was leaving the womb.

  At his companions stricken faces, he instructed, “Love her as you would your own so she loves your as her own, for the moment she learns what we plan, she’ll come to bear on us with all she has.”

  When their expressions faltered, he slapped them both on the back. “Come. Let us first confirm her by the mark and greet her. If we’re
to manipulate her and her power to our purposes, we must start from the very beginning. We have one chance to survive.”

  In the Temple of Life, deep in the hall lined with birthing rooms, Alyria labored. Sweat glistened on her forehead, even as the attendant blotted her with a cool cloth.

  Alyria called to the midwife. “How much longer?” Another contraction built, taking her breath.

  “You’re almost there. Breathe, Alyria,” the midwife answered. “We’re near to bringing this child into life.”

  Alyria gasped with the passing of the pain and gathered her strength for the next round. As she glanced up, three priests entered and hovered just inside the door. Carlyle, Protus, and Menin, the three mightiest men in the land.

  What do you want with my babe?

  The next pain came and she forgot about the three men, focusing on the baby exiting her body. She screamed into the effort, rising on her elbows and grunting until spit flew from her lips. At last, she felt the babe’s head come through and she caught her breath. Knowing her labor was almost over, she rose in the bed so she could see the midwife’s face.

  She’s smiling. Good.

  The midwife caught her eyes and nodded. “Now, Alyria.”

  Alyria dug her heels into the stirrups and pressed her back against the slanted headboard of the birthing bed. Feeling as though her body were being ripped apart, she ground her teeth and pushed with all her might. The babe slipped free, and she collapsed with exhaustion.

  A flurry of activity erupted as the midwife cleaned and wrapped the child before delivering the placenta. The three priests closed in, eyeing the child.

  “You have a daughter, Alyria,” the midwife said.

  With these words uttered, Menin stepped away and hastily crossed himself in the ancient sign against evil.