Ready to Were

by Robyn Peterman

  "Looks like I missed a party," a very familiar and insanely sexy voice said from the doorway as he took in the mess with a shake of his head. "Junior, you're gonna need to reel it in."

  "Little bro bro," Junior yelled as he trapped Hank in a bear hug. "I've missed you and your judgmental ass."

  "Missed you too," Hank told him as he disengaged himself and copped a quick feel of my rear end. "You got time to talk?"

  "Yep," Junior said as he discreetly tried to pick up the office.

  "I have to go run the bridal shop because I stole some shoes," Dwayne announced with delight. He was positively orgasmic about his community service. "Come on Granny. We have work to do."

  Dwayne flounced out of the Sheriff's office with a giggling Granny following behind him.

  "Should I even ask?" Hank inquired with a wince.

  "Nope." I grinned and settled myself on his lap.

  "So what's the scoop?" Junior asked as he sat back down behind the desk.

  "Well, first off I want to know if you'll be my best man in the wedding," Hank asked.

  "I'd be honored, my brother," he answered with emotion.

  I felt my throat get tight and I was so happy I was witnessing this moment--a moment I never thought would come. I had stupidly and mistakenly thought Hank had cheated on me and had left Hung Island without talking to him. I was impulsive like that. However, I'd grown up in the year I was away and had become an accomplished agent for the WTF. I was now a deadly fighting machine and I still got my guy. Irony of all ironies Hank had also secretly joined WTF because he thought I wasn't coming back. Now we both were owned and employed by our governing Council. Hence the talk with Junior...

  "I understand that Dwayne is wearing a dress," Junior said cautiously. "While I think that is brave and appalling, I just want to put it out there that..."

  "You'll be in a tux, man," Hank said quickly.

  "Thank Jesus." Junior heaved a huge sigh of relief and I bit back my laugh.

  The thought of Junior in a dress was so wrong it was awesome.

  "So what else you got?" he asked Hank.

  Hank gently moved me off his lap and went to his brother.

  "It's come time for you to step up to your rightful place," he said quietly.

  "Whoa, whoa, whoa," Junior yelled as he jumped to his feet taking the bookshelf behind him down. "I have a list." He shoved the list in Hank's face. "I have to bag Sandy Moongie...Wait." He groaned and slapped himself in the head. "I do not mean bag. I mean, I do mean bag, but not until we've gone on at least two dates." He glanced over at me for approval.

  "Fifteen dates and I'm being conservative," I said.

  "Are you serious?" he shouted. "This is going to be harder than I thought. Maybe I should confess to her father..."

  "Confess what?" Hank asked, bewildered.

  "My sins."

  "Holy shit." Hank whistled and laughed. "You're a dead man walking."

  "I know," Junior said morosely. "Now do you understand why this is a really bad time for me to become the alpha?"

  "I'm WTF now. I can't be the alpha anymore," Hank said.

  "What the hell? When did you join the Werewolf Treaty Federation?" Junior demanded as he realized the ramifications of Hank's enlistment.

  "About a year ago--right after Essie did."

  "Did you know about this?" Junior asked in a high-pitched voice as he rambled around the office leaving disaster in his wake.

  "Only for a week," I admitted.

  "Wait, so you went to Chicago and joined WTF? What did you do--stalk Essie for a year?"

  "Pretty much," I said as Hank shrugged and grinned at me.

  "Wow, that's kinda hot," Junior said grudgingly.

  "Right?" I agreed.

  "We have a mission and we leave in three days," Hank told a now pale Junior.

  "Son of a beeotch," Junior muttered as he dropped onto the couch and stared at the ceiling. "This just sucks."

  "Junior, you're ready," Hank said firmly. "You've been ready for a while, but you never would have challenged me. This is the way it should be. You're fair, smarter than hell and deadly. The Georgia Pack will be lucky to have you."

  "Do you think being alpha will help me get Sandy?" he asked, totally serious.

  "Oh my god," I mumbled wondering if an alpha that thought with his wanker was going to be a huge cluster hump.

  "Um...possibly, but you're gonna have to put Sandy on the back burner for a while," Hank told him. "You have to have your shit together to lead the Wolves and all the other Weres in Georgia. You're pecker is going to have to stay in your pants."

  "I can do that," Junior said somewhat doubtfully. "It would prove to the world I'm not a man whore and then Sandy would have to go out with me."

  I exchanged a covert glance with Hank who was biting his lip.

  "Okay," Hank said encouragingly. "That's a good start. You are going to use your big head, not your little one..."

  "It's not little," Junior cut in.

  "Whatever," Hank grunted in frustration. "You're gonna keep it in your pants and dedicate yourself to governing our people and keeping them safe. You follow?"

  Junior sat in silence and digested the information for a long moment.

  "Yep. I can do this. You're right. It's time, but the pants thing is gonna be hard. No pun intended," he said honestly.

  I rolled my eyes and gave Junior a hug. "You are strong, brilliant and compassionate. You will be an outstanding leader."

  "You forgot good looking." Junior amended my list with a wink.

  "And humble," Hank added sarcastically as he took his brothers hand in his own and shook it.

  Both Hank and I went to our knees in respect for our new alpha. Junior was overwhelmed for a second and then gently laid his hands on our heads. I felt his magic entwined with Hank's fill the room. I was awed as I closed my eyes and let their power wash through me. Junior was going to be fine.

  I just hoped our mission in Chicago would work out as well.

  Chapter 3

  "It was glorious," Dwayne gushed as he danced around the shooting range. "Layla was balled up in the corner with the Peignoir sets rocking like she was insane, but Lori pulled up her big girl panties and got with the program fast."

  "Yep." Granny laughed. "Dwayne insisted we all wear wedding gowns and parade up and down Main Street for two hours."

  "Um...oookay," I mumbled as I noted Hank's completely confused expression and Junior's ear to ear grin. Thankfully they'd removed their gowns and were back in their regular clothes--Granny, a colorful peasant skirt, jeweled sandals and a boob tube. Dwayne, skinny jeans, starched wife beater and low heeled pumps.

  "It was their highest sales day of the year," Dwayne boasted. "Lori offered me a permanent job at the shop."

  "And Layla puked in a potted plant," Granny added.

  "What did you tell them?" I asked as I examined the array of weapons on the table. We'd met up at the gun range after hours to get some practice in and to make sure Granny was up to snuff.

  "I told them they have me for two more days because I have to go kill some stuff in Chicago. However, I offered to Skype with customers twice a week," Dwayne said, quite pleased with the compromise he'd worked out.

  Granny slipped on her ear protectors and picked up a Beretta 92. I put mine on and picked out a Glock 22. Junior, Hank and Dwayne stood back and watched.

  "You want me to kill him or maim him?" Granny asked as she squinted at the targets.

  "You think you're good enough to choose?" I inquired with a grin.

  "Little girl, I'm as good as they get."

  "Maim," I challenged.

  She took aim and nailed every non-kill spot on the body, missing all major arteries and organs.

  "Holy sheeeot." Junior whistled and applauded. "Nice work Granny."

  "Can I kill him now?" she asked as she chuckled.

  I shouldn't have doubted my Granny's skills. She was one freakin' surprise after another. The most major being, I'd
just found out she'd been WTF before I was born. She'd been partnered with my over-worked and grumpy boss, Angela.

  "Kill him," I said.

  With one clean shot right through the heart of the paper target, he was dead.

  "Think you can beat that?" she asked with a smirk.

  "Not think--know," I informed her cockily.

  "Be my guest, sugar puss."

  My pleasure," I said as I raised my gun, kicked off my flip flops and aimed.

  And I killed him.

  Shot him thorough the heart ten times and only made one hole.

  One small hole.

  "He's dead," I announced to my shocked audience.

  "Guns down," Hank said with a huge grin on his face as he approached the targets.

  "What in the hell was that?" Junior shouted. "I heard than damn gun go off ten times. I see one hole."

  "I'm that good," I said silkily.

  "Damn right you are," Dwayne said as he put his arms around me and squeezed. "Boys move. Let her show you the other thing."

  "What other thing?" Granny asked as Hank and Junior hightailed it out of the way.

  "Oh hell to the no," Junior moaned as he jack-knifed forward in anticipation.

  "Geld him," Dwayne instructed.

  And I did. I shot his balls clean off his body and then some. Hank, Junior and Dwayne were all leaning forward and wincing in solidarity with the paper man that had just gotten his jewels blown to Kingdom Come.

  "That is some fine shootin', honey bun," Granny yelled with pride. "Hank, I'd suggest you stay on my grand daughter's good side."

  "Noted," Hank said as he shook his head and laughed.

  "Do we really need to be here?" Dwayne whined. "All of you can shoot the teats off of a cow with your eyes shut. I need to start packing for Chicago."

  "What do you have to pack?" I asked. We'd been in Georgia for two weeks and Dwayne had brought one suitcase--one large suitcase, but only one.

  "I shopped," he told me.

  "Nuff said," I replied.

  "Speaking of Cows..." Junior said.

  "Did you find anything else out?" Dwayne paled and dropped dramatically down on a chair.

  "No, not yet, but I have some friends looking into it."

  "Want to get me up to speed here?" Hank asked as he and I put the weapons away.

  "Dwayne?" I gave him a look and he groaned.

  "Fine," he huffed. "A few hundred years ago I kinda sorta married some cows."

  "Holy God," Hank muttered with disgust. "Vampyres marry farm animals?"

  "Were Cows," Dwayne hissed. "And I didn't marry them. I pretended to marry them."

  "I am so lost," Hank said as he ran his hands through his hair.

  Hank had known Dwayne for a year. It was one of the ways he'd secretly kept tabs on me after I had run away because I stupidly thought he had cheated on me. I was training in Chicago and trying to have a new life, which wasn't working out all that well. I was freakin' miserable without Hank. He befriended my BFF under a fake name and since Dwayne had no filter whatsoever, Hank had been able to find out all he wanted to know. Most people would think that was psychotic and stalkerish... After I got over being pissed, I thought it was hot. Hank had always known we were true mates even if I was too dumb and immature to realize it.

  Were Wolves could mate with whomever they wanted. Some lasted and some didn't. We had long lives and over active sex drives. If you didn't fine your true mate, you often had several relationships in a lifetime. True mates belonged together. If they had crossed paths, even as children, they would never be happy with someone else. Hank was my true mate and luckily we had a second chance.

  "Let me simplify this," Granny said as she put her hand over Dwayne's mouth so he wouldn't spout more redonkulous bullcrap. "Dwayne posed as a priest and performed an illegal wedding for two Were Cows. It's really not all his fault. He was enamored with the outfit, so he made a poor choice," she explained.

  Dwayne nodded in agreement with Granny's summation.

  "Still lost," Hank said.

  "Bottom line," Granny continued as she seemed to realize her version had a few holes in it. "There might be thousands of illegitimate Were Cows roaming the earth that will want a piece of Dwayne. From what I remember reading back in school, they're extremely religious and would take issue with being Cow bastards."

  Hank shut his eyes and took a breath in through his nose and blew it out through his mouth. This was never a good sign. It was all kinds of sexy, but it usually meant he wasn't happy.

  "Good news is I hacked into a few data bases and it looks like they're extinct," Junior said watching his brother carefully.

  "Your info is wrong," Hank said quietly. "They're not extinct."

  "What?" Dwayne screeched.

  "They. Are. Not. Extinct," Hank repeated tightly. "There aren't many, but they definitely still exist."

  "What the hell?" I groused. "Does everyone know about Were Cows except for me?"

  "Yep." Granny answered as she adjusted her boob tube and narrowed her eyes at me. "You skipped a lot of Were history in high school and college."

  That shut me up...she was correct. Balls, now I wondered what else I missed.

  "Rumor has it they're working with the Dragons," Hank said.

  "Well Dwayne, you're screwed. That could be inconvenient since we're going after the Dragons," Granny muttered the obvious.

  "I'm going to hurl," Dwayne whimpered.

  "Vamps can't puke," I reminded him.

  "Watch me," he hissed.

  "We have no clue if they're related to the Cows that Dwayne duped," Junior said reasonably. "What was the surname of the couple?"

  "Dung," Dwayne answered.

  I waited for the punch line. It didn't come.

  Chicago was going to be very interesting.

  ***

  "I got a Hummer," Dwayne shouted as he flopped down on my Granny's plastic slip covered couch. Granny's house was literally a museum to junk. She had more knicknacs than Dwayne had shoes--Dwayne had several hundred pairs of shoes. Thankfully we wore the same size seven.

  I froze in terror. I was unsure if he meant a car or a blowjob. It took all I had not to ask. I wasn't going there again.

  "There is no way all my luggage will fit in your tiny metal death trap. Not to mention my legs were cramped for days after we drove down," he informed me as he smoothed out his shirt.

  Shirt was pushing it. It was a wife-beater with Hello Kitty in pink sequins plastered on the front. I was certain his booty shorts were going to make his legs stick to the plastic covered couch.

  I heaved a huge sigh of relief and laughed. "Those guzzle gas and are ugly," I said as I popped a cookie in my mouth.

  "Yes and they don't smell like old French fries like yours does."

  "Point," I agreed. "How many suitcases do you have?"

  "Eight."

  "Eight?" I gasped and squinted my eyes at him. How did a person go from one suitcase to eight in two weeks?

  "I have to bring wedding gowns for my bi-weekly Skype sessions with the customers from Bring on the Bride. I want to wear gowns from the shop considering that's what we're trying to sell," he explained logically.

  As if anything Dwayne said or did was logical...

  "Alrighty then," I replied as I wondered if he pulled any gowns in my size...

  "I did," he squealed as he clapped his hands with glee.

  "Are you reading my mind?" I demanded.

  "Nope, your face. I can only read minds of people I share blood with...oh shit," he muttered. "Maybe I did read your mind."

  Dwayne began to immediately rearrange the miniature plaster rabbit family that was the centerpiece on the coffee table and I paced the room in agitation. Just as he started to refold the afghans into a fort pile I lost it.

  "Dwayne, I thought you said your blood would leave my system in a few days," I snapped. "It's been weeks and I'm still feeling itchy."

  "Itchy or bitchy?" he inquired with raised eyeb
rows that would have touched his hairline if he had any hair.

  "Touche," I said biting back my grin. There was no way I was going to let on that he made a good one.

  "Essie, the operative word in your sentence was thought. I had no clue it would last," he said in a world-weary tone. Dwayne was as flighty as they came, but sometimes I could hear in his voice that he had lived lifetimes--and they hadn't been happy.

  I closed my eyes and calmed myself. As much as I didn't want any of Dwayne's frighteningly unstable powers, it was what had saved Hank's and my life. The strength of the Vampyre blood I'd ingested had allowed me to rip the head off of a Dragon with my bare hands. Killing the bad guy didn't bother me a bit--it was him or us. The simple fact that I didn't realize I had done it until after the fact was what I had a difficult time wrapping my head around. I knew was being a baby about it, but it scared the hell out of me--and I was not a weenie.

  I glanced over at my friend. He was slumped over like a bald deflated sequined blow up doll.

  "I agreed to take your blood. It's as much my fault as anyone else's," I said as sat down beside him and laid my head on his shoulder.

  "I'm sorry," he said quietly, "but I don't regret doing it. I wouldn't want to go on if you weren't in my world."

  The seriousness of his tone and words humbled me. I wrapped my arms around him and held on tight. I loved him and losing him would destroy me too.

  "I'm not going anywhere," I promised. "However, if I am stuck with your blood, you're gonna have to teach me how to control the heinous super powers I've gained."

  "Deal." He grinned and tweaked my nose. "Wanna try on dresses?"

  "Do I have a choice?" I moaned and laughed.

  "No beautiful missy, you don't."

  "I knew you were gonna say that," I muttered sarcastically.

  "Did you read my mind?" he asked with wide eyes.

  "Oh my hell," I yelled as my eyes grew even wider than his. "I certainly hope not."

  "So do I." Dwayne's voice sounded uncharacteristically hollow. "So do I."

  ## Coming Soon. Visit my website for more information about this title. ##