Unbound (2 page)

D
ane ushered
Ashley and her friend out of his trailer after giving them a few moments to get dressed.

They left under duress, protesting, asking him why they couldn’t have a little bit of fun with him.

“I have things to do today.”

Things.

Like getting to the mountains and shifting into his snow leopard and running it all off. All his emotions. All the memories of Glory.

He’d spent a lifetime immersing into roles to be anyone but the heartbroken solitary leopard shifter he was, and yet, he’d come full circle, here he was again, no different than the young man who’d walked away from Glory.

Walked?

A sneer crossed his face.

I didn’t walk.

He wouldn’t have walked away from Glory.

He was pushed away.

Not that it mattered at this stage. Glory was dead. If he hadn’t allowed himself to be run off, maybe she’d be alive now.

Maybe.

A
few short hours later
, Dane pulled into his favorite rest stop off the interstate. Good thing they weren’t shooting too damned far away. He was on his four-wheeler, a nondescript vehicle that would get no attention and allow him the anonymity he needed for the next step.

Baseball cap and dark sunglasses on, he slipped away and into the trees, making like he was just another tourist.

He stopped when out of range of prying eyes and cameras and stuffed his keys into an abandoned hole in a tree because though his clothes shifted with him, none of the articles he carried did.

Time to shift.

He didn’t shift often enough and was out of practice. For him it was a bone crunching sinew tearing event that took longer than it should.

I really should shift more often.

He leapt through the heavily wooded area, relishing the freedom and solitude. He ran and ran, loping through the forest, ignoring the rare bear he came across. Tiny mammals scurried out of his way, as he sought the replenishing solace his soul would get.

Memories of the past chose this time to infiltrate his subconscious, probably because his leopard granted them access that Dane would not.

Y
ears ago
…

D
ane was fourteen years old
, in his tiger form, exploring Uncle Frank’s land at Woodland Creek. He heard voices, and curious, he stalked the sounds, using his snow leopard skills to keep him hidden while he crept through the underbrush.

He encountered a brick wall, and knew the sounds came from the other side. The brick was part of a building. He traversed every side, scouring for a door or gate into the building, ever more curious about the voice he heard. The building wasn’t large, more like a small cabin, really.

Her voice was low, so low he couldn’t make out the words, but not too low for his leopard to pick up.

Puzzled that he couldn’t find an entrance to the little building, he gazed at the top of the brick wall. He could do the jump. He could leap quietly and see what was on the other side. There didn’t seem to be a roof on the building, so he should have an unobstructed view.

He hunkered low, muscles bunched and with one powerful launch was on top of the brick wall, balancing carefully.

He scanned the building. It wasn’t a house at all. Nor a cabin. It was a walled garden.

But who was talking? He looked between the trees, the thorny bougainvillea growing on the walls, the rose bushes in the center.

Nothing.

No human at all.

And he picked up no human scent. Nor animal scent.

How can that be?

At the far end, ivy leaves rustled, as if moving with the wind.

Except there was no wind.

“Someone’s watching us.”
The ivy moved, softly swaying.

“Who is it,”
the other voice said. A different kind of ivy, larger leaves, a darker green moved this time.

Plant shifters? He’d heard they existed, but he’d never seen any.

Dane cocked his leopard head.

“Yes, I see him. It’s a cat.”

Were they talking? Or were they linked, minds synced the way shifters did, to communicate when in their shifter form, able to talk in each other’s heads.

How can I hear them? Is it because they’re plant shifters? Does their linking work differently? There was only one way to know.

I’m not a cat,
” he interjected in the middle of their sync.

”Oh, Glory, it’s a talking cat.”
The darker green ivy with larger leaves said.

“I heard it,”
the lighter colored ivy said.

“I’m not a cat.”
He leapt down, faced the two ivies, glaring at them with his fiercest snow leopard glare.

He studied the lighter ivy. Something about it hooked his attention.
“How can an ivy have a name like Glory? Or any name at all.”
He swatted at her leaves.

A cry emitted, loud, girlish.
“You hurt me, you mean cat.”

The ivy rustled and rippled, as if the wind were blowing it again, though this time as if the wind were gusting.

Before Dane’s very eyes, the ivy shifted, the light colored leaves becoming a human body, topped with the darkest red hair and lightest green eyes he’d ever seen on a human.

“I’m Glory,” she said. Her hand cupped over her arm, tiny rivulets of blood seeping between her fingers. “And you hurt me.” The glare she gave him matched his own.

He shifted into his human skin. “You called me a cat.”

She scowled. “You’re not a dog.”

“I am
not
a cat. I’m a snow leopard. What are you?”

She looked at him as if he had lost his mind. “I’m an ivy, duh.”

“I’ve never heard of a plant shifting into a human.”

“We keep to ourselves, our own kind. We don’t talk to other kinds of shifters.”

“Why not?” Suddenly he felt as if he wasn’t good enough. A plant was making him feel that way.

Except this girl wasn’t a plant. She was a pretty thing, about his age, with fair skin, red hair, luminescent green eyes and a sassiness that appealed and yet repelled him.

“Glory, Honor.” A voice from outside the walled-in garden said.

Glory put a finger over her lips, a warning in her eyes that he wasn’t to say a word. “Yes, Mother, coming.”

“See you later, Mister Cat.” She opened a door that wasn’t visible from the outside and slipped out of the walled garden.

Honor, who clearly was the other ivy, shifted into a human form, the same age, with hair more brown than red and eyes that were a deep dark green. She looked at Dane, gave him the once over and dismissed him with her glance.

She followed Glory out the door, promptly closing it behind her, effectively sealing Dane from anyone’s view, but also assuring he could see nothing.

He shifted into his leopard immediately and jumped to the top of the wall, then over, landing on the ground softly, his paws alighting on the soft dirt.

He looked around.

No sign of the girls. Neither one of them. Nor of the voice that called out to them.

A
nd that was
Dane’s first encounter with the one who eventually impacted every major decision he made.

H
is phone rang
. He looked at the screen. The area code was Bear Canyon Valley. Had to be Mae.

He tapped the phone’s screen to receive the call. “Aunt Mae.”

“Dane Forester, as I live and breathe. If it weren’t for the movies you star in, I’d wonder if you were still alive. You’re not very good at staying in touch with family.”

“Sorry.”

“No, you aren’t, but that’s okay. I know you snow leopards like your alone time. Though for the life of me, I don’t see how you get that when you’re always in the public eye.”

They don’t get to see me. They see the roles I play.
“I juggle it, Aunt Mae. Stan said you called. Uncle Frank died.”

“He did.” She sighed, a sound that came across more as static on the cell phone to Dane. “They’re reading his will.”

Dane didn’t respond. He didn’t have hard feelings toward Uncle Frank, but he couldn’t imagine being back in Woodland Creek. A pain knifed through him, a pain so severe it pulled his breath from his body and left him in a void.

How can Glory still affect me, all these years later?

He wasn’t asking anyone, it was a rhetorical question, but by damn, his leopard took that opportunity to remind him that she was his fated mate. That there was no other, never would be another… no matter what he did.

He knew what the leopard meant when he said
“what he did,”
because every time Dane was involved in a one-night stand, his leopard would leave him, going far away, to some place Dane didn’t understand. It would leave a void in him and it wouldn’t be until the leopard returned that Dane realized how much it would wound him if the leopard were ever to leave for good.

“I can’t make it to the will-reading, Aunt Mae.”
I can’t see Woodland Creek again.
“I’ll send my attorney.”

“Dane Mark Forester.” She was taking the big guns out, using his full name.

He had no chance now.

She continued, “Frank was murdered. Don’t you dare say you won’t go. He did everything he could for you after your dad and Brad died.”

His anger with Uncle Frank, with Glory’s deception, with the world, had nothing to do with Mae. She’d been good to him after his father had died. She’d even offered to take him in when he’d gone to visit. She had a falcon shifter named Fiona there who’d become close to Dane. But Dane couldn’t stay. Fiona’s hair color was too close to Glory’s. Seeing Fiona every day reminded him he couldn’t see Glory. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Go seek the answers yourself. Find out what happened to Frank. He was a good man. He deserved better than he got.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Dane—” Her voice choked.

He heard shuffling then a male voice said, “Dane. This is Doc.”

“Doc Evans?” Why was the town’s shifter doctor with her? “Is she okay, Doc? Why are you there?”

“She’s fine. She’s my mate, son. And she can’t talk anymore. She’s tore up by this. She’d appreciate your help. She and I are making the trip as soon as we take care of a few things that need handling.”

Dane blew out a big breath. “Okay, Doc. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks, Dane. It’d be good to see you again, sometime.”

Dane vaguely remembered Doc. The last time Dane saw him, he’d been mated and had a little girl — or was that his stepdaughter? Astra, it seemed her name was. Dane didn’t ask how his wife was. If Doc was with Mae now, his wife was either dead or gone.

“It would be good to see you too.”

Why did I just make it sound like I’m going?

G
lory’s cousins
had gone to town and she was blissfully alone at home. She was not new to solitude. After her parents were gone, she’d remained in Woodland Creek alone. She hadn’t come out of her isolation for years, and still when she went into Woodland Creek, she kept to herself. She would shift into her ivy and live in the walled-in garden, the same one where she’d met Dane.

A smile crept to her face at the memory. He’d been so aggravated that he, a snow leopard shifter had been compared to a common house cat. He’d scratched her. She looked at her hand. The scratch mark was still there, just like the indelible mark he’d left on her heart.

More like a crater-sized hole.

The next few years had passed quickly, it seemed. Her sister Honor, Glory, and Dane had spent every day together. She’d learned Dane was Frank Forester’s nephew.

Dane had seen her house in the woods, a modest cabin where her parents made a home for themselves, Honor, and Glory. A modest cabin in the middle of a gazillion acres. More acreage than Glory and Honor needed to play in as children. The two sisters had been content in their little garden.

Then one day, out of the blue, Dane was gone.

No word. No contact. Nothing.

Months later her parents and Honor had been taken from Glory’s life.

Glory heaved a sigh.

Rovers. Rogue shifters who traveled in packs and inflicted harm on other shifter types.

Glory was saved because she’d been in the walled-in garden, in her ivy form, where she spent every day, grieving Dane’s loss.

She’d never told Honor about Dane — not the full extent of it. Honor thought Dane was simply Glory’s teenage crush, nothing more.

Dane had been her first… her first everything.

He’d also been her last.

She thought of that day…

Her first. Her last. Her only.

T
hat day
, years ago…

S
he’d been
in the hidden garden, alone, enjoying the sun on her leaves. Her family had gone on a day trip. By now, she’d known Dane for several years, so having him enter the garden was nothing new.

Except today, for some reason, there was something different about Dane.

Her friend Dane no longer looked like the boy next door. Almost as if it happened overnight, he looked like a man. Gray eyes were somber as he approached in his snow leopard form. He stood still for a moment, shifted, and remained before her, shirtless.

Her leaves rustled, the tendrils reaching toward his body, tan, muscular, a wide chest that dropped to a
V
. A sprinkling of hair that made a trail downward.

Her ivy branches shivered as if caught in a breeze.

She shifted into her human form to keep him from seeing the change he’d created in her. Confused, she pushed her wild hair back, away from her heated face.

“Where’s your shirt?” She stared at his body. She’d seen it before, they’d been swimming several times every summer in the lake.

“It was hot, so I went for a swim first.”

His face told her something was wrong. She couldn’t put a finger on what it was. “What is it?”

“It’s the anniversary of my dad’s death.” His face had paled. “What the fuck. Anniversaries should be celebrated. Why do they call it an anniversary of a death?” He was choking on the words, his voice full of emotion. A battle seemed to rage within him, one she didn’t understand.

She reached out. He crumbled into her outstretched arms. Her best friend Dane, her champion and occasional tormentor when he teased her mercilessly, was different now. There was a depth and a hollowness, at the same time.

“I want to kill them.” He pushed the words out of his mouth as if his lungs were expelling them with an ejection seat.

“Who?” She stroked his head and tried to not think of the way his body felt against hers. Her pulse quickened, even though her mind pushed all thoughts aside.

“The bastards that killed my father and Uncle Greg. But Uncle Frank won’t tell me anything about them. That it’s not for me to fight this battle.”

He seemed to flinch in her arms and she wondered if it was a sob. She pulled back and studied his face. Her shifter senses picked up the anger making his pulse trip. They weren’t kids anymore. None of their reactions to one another was logical.

His body molded to hers, fitting against her as if they were puzzle pieces. In the mid-summer’s heat, sweat beaded on her forehead, making her hair stick to her skin while she held him, absorbing his anger, allowing him to take her calm and keep it within himself.

While they stood, silently, holding each other, a storm raged within. Passions built furnaces that fueled desires.

Her ivy pushed against her, propelling her toward a turbulence of emotions that Glory was powerless to fight.

He pulled her face to his, his hands on both cheeks, holding her, his gray eyes staring into hers, digging deeper into her soul. His leopard flashed in the depths of Dane’s eyes and her ivy recognized the flash, yielding to it.

Frightened by the surge of emotions she didn’t understand, she leaned closer to him, her hands moving up his back, snaking toward his neck.

Did she tug his face downward or did he pull her closer? She couldn’t even remember how it happened.

One moment they were staring, the next her fingers were entwined in his too-long hair and his hands gripped her tresses with a force that reminded her she was alive. He pulled her head back and his lips settled on hers with a determination and a claiming that snatched her breath away.

She’d yielded to her ivy as she shifted, there in his arms.

Her ivy had taken control, caressing his body with tender leaves, traveling over a broad chest, rippling abs, strong legs, she’d surrounded him, covered him, embracing and hiding him from the merciless summer sun.

He’d lain down, covered by her ivy, sedate and calmed by her essence. Once Dane had fallen asleep, she’d shifted into her human form and lain next to him, both of them sleeping.

Just as the sun was setting she woke, the sound of his pulse in her ear sounding like the waves breaking on a beach. His hand was resting on her stomach, her top had shifted, exposing a slice of her midriff. He made tiny circles on her heated skin, giving rise to sensations deep within.

Circle after circle, and her pulse soon matched his, both of them loud in her ears, carrying her away.

His breath was hot on her neck, where her pulse faltered. His lips brushed against that spot where her pulse beat its tempo.

“Glory.” Dane’s voice was so soft only her shifter hearing would have heard it. “Thank you.” His words were husky, and plucking at her nerve endings with a pleasing cadence.

She turned her head to look in his eyes, a slate gray now, darker with desire.

His hand drifted upward, touching the hem of her bra. She held her breath, the trapped air burned her lungs. She didn’t release it while she waited, and hoped. Hoped that he’d explore more, hoped that he’d fulfill the pulsations permeating her body.

“Dane.” Words clogged her throat; all the things she wanted to say to him, stuck.

He rose to an elbow and adjusted his weight, his body half covering hers while his hand drifted upward, cupping her breast, his thumb resting on her nipple while it hardened beneath the promise of his touch.

A thread between her nipple and her core was tugged, sending vibrations throughout her body. She arched her back, pressing more of herself into his hand, wanting him to caress, flick, touch, pinch, and tease. Wanting him to do things she didn’t even know about.

His knee was between her legs, nudging them apart.

“I want you.” His husky declaration cut through the crickets’ revelry and bullfrogs’ songs.

She wanted him too. More than anything, as did her ivy. Her ivy insisting the snow leopard was her mate. Glory wasn’t going to argue with the ivy, but how could another species be her mate?

Her body thirsted for him with an unquenchable desire. Almost unquenchable. She lowered her hand, no clue what to do, letting primal desire and instinct drive her.

Her hand slipped into his shorts, finding a hardness that pulsed for her. She wrapped her fingers around the girth, marveling at the thickness and length.

He groaned when she squeezed. Knowing that could only be a good thing she repeated the gesture, then holding it with a semi-firm grip, she ran her hand up and down.

He unbuttoned her jeans, then tugged the zipper, the metal making a ripping sound. He pulled on them when she picked her ass up and let him slide them off. The panties followed suit. His body over hers, the head of his cock pressed against her entrance. She could feel the moisture on her nether lips cooling in the evening air.

She watched his face as he closed his eyes, an expression she’d never seen before.

He slid in a tiny bit.

She gasped at the girth as he stretched muscles that weren’t even used to a finger.

“Want me to stop?” His breath was warm on her cheek.

She shook her head and fought the tears of discomfort. “I want you,” she told him, knowing she wanted him more than anything, trusting him to take care of her.

He gritted his teeth and pressed into her slowly until she was filled with him. The pain of being stretched eased as he pulled back slowly. Her skin tingled where they’d joined as one. He slid in again, his teeth still gritting, his jaw clenched, and his gray eyes studying her face as he filled her again.

She moaned and he pulled back again, then slid in, with each successive thrust he pushed in harder until he was ramming her and she was arching her back and returning each stroke with a matching pace.

The punishment being inflicted on her was a dichotomy of pleasure and pain, pushing her into a realm she’d have never thought existed as she exploded into a million tiny pieces, then came back together again, just to detonate all over again. Each thrust, each cry, each groan, each plunging drive jetted Glory to a new high until a snarl came from deep within Dane and he called her name out with a grunt. Hot warmth shot into her body, while his body tensed and straightened.

He collapsed on her body, panting, sweating, his scent and her scent merging the same way their bodies had.

They’d both just turned eighteen.