by R. A. Boyd
The Shifter’s Past
The Ghost Shifters Series, Book 9
R. A. Boyd
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locations is entirely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.
ASIN:B081GR1C55
Text copyright ©2020 R.A. Boyd
All Rights Reserved
Other books in the Ghost Shifter series
The Shifter’s Wish, Book 1
The Shifter’s Dream, Book 2
The Shifter’s Salvation, Book 3
The Shifter’s Fight, Book 4
The Shifter’s Soul, Book 5
The Shifter’s Secret, Book 6
The Shifter’s Possession, Book 7
The Shifter’s Choice, Book 8
The Shifter’s Past, YOU’RE ABOUT TO READ ME!!!
Chapter 1
Bastian glanced down at the artificial Calla lily sticking out from the side of his green duffle bag. He smiled as he thought of Audra snatching it out from her garden and giving it to him. Only his sister would plant artificial flowers in everyone’s yard this time of year instead of growing the real thing. It was summertime in Maryland. The trees bloomed, the lawns needed to be mowed twice a week, and Audra planted fake lilies and tulips in everyone’s yards. Living in New Rose was going to be fucking awesome.
“Welp,” Bastian said, picking up his bag from the floor. “That’s the last of everything I’m taking. For now. I’ll see you psychos later.”
Malachi stood from the table so fast his legs bumped against it, sending the partially empty beer bottles a few inches to the left. “You’re going? Just like that?” His dark hair fell in his eyes. They were usually grey, but now they were bright burning orbs of yellow. He was pissed, and Bastian couldn’t give any less of a shit if he tried.
Why the hell was Malachi taking this personal? Bastian knew he didn’t give a shit whether any of them lived or died. He made it clear at least three times a week that he hoped the earth would open up and swallow them all, himself included. Malachi was a miserable bastard and hated when any of the Ghosts found even an iota of happiness, and Bastian’s feigned relaxed demeanor always put him on edge. That’s precisely why he did it.
Aggravating his family was fun. Seeing how far he could push people had always been one of his favorite past times. It showed you who you could count on, and who would break under pressure. As much as Bastian loved Malachi, he’d learned in the past few decades that his brother couldn’t be trusted.
Shit. Neither could he.
Bastian nodded, stepping around his chair and pushing it back under the table. “Yep. Just like that. It’s not any different from when we left New Rose all those years ago. Why the fuck do you care?”
“I don’t, Sabastian!” Malachi roared, voice tapering off into a long, low growl as he sat back down.
Everyone knew Bastian didn’t like to be called ‘Sabastian.’ He let his family in New Rose get away with it for centuries, but since he would be living there, that was going to have to change. Some people had a weird way of pronouncing it, and Malachi only called him ‘Sabastian’ when he was trying to get a rise out of him. Bastian wouldn’t give in today. Fighting wasn’t on his agenda for the afternoon. He was ready to watch Salvatore, Maryland disappear in the rearview mirror of his truck.
Malachi cleared his throat and rolled his head, the muscles in his neck cracking as he settled himself. “I don’t give a shit if you leave. You’re inviting danger into your life if you go there to stay. That bitch is dangerous.”
Bastian dropped his bag on the floor and widened his stance. He’d already warned Rafe not to talk about Cass like that, and now it was Malachi’s turn. The whole lot of them got three strikes, and this was number two.
Bastian leaned his hands on the table, ready to flip it over and hop on top of Malachi like he was his own personal bouncy house. “That bitch is part of our Alpha Triad.” Strumming his fingers on the table, he grinned hard enough to make his cheeks ache as he looked his brother in the eye. “Call her anything but her name again, Chi, and I will ruin your fucking week. I pledged my fealty to her. She’s special.”
From next to Malachi, Finn scoffed and shook his head. “Yeah. She is special. We could feel her call from over a hundred miles away when she lost her shit and almost took us with her. I’m not doing any name-calling, but that woman is dangerous.”
“And glorious,” Ambrose chimed in, light blue eyes focused on Bastian’s fingers as they played a wordless song on the wooden table. “Cass deserves our respect. And our allegiance. You would see that if you pulled your heads out of your asses to witness the truth. The Creator has deemed it our time to find mates.”
Bastian nodded once as he looked at his brother Ambrose. They had been the only two to make the drive to New Rose and meet the mates of their Ghost shifter brethren.
The rest of the Salvatore Ghosts were half-crazed and swore they wouldn’t go near anyone outside of their clan for fear of meeting their mates. Malachi and Finn were the worst, and Rafe was only a step below them in his level of insanity. He was too self-involved to give too much of a damn about anyone else. Outside of Bastian, Gabe and Ambrose were the only ones left from the Salvatore Ghost clan who were sane enough to be around the human population.
Ambrose took a sip from his bottle and then pointed it at Bastian. “But I am not on the market for finding a mate. So, I will stay here and keep with you lot. And my dog.”
“That creature ain’t a dog,” Malachi scoffed. “It’s a wolf. Or something. It’s fucking huge and unnatural.”
Ambrose lifted a hand and gave Chi the middle-finger salute. “Talk about my Nelly like that again, and I will bring her into your house while you sleep. She already doesn’t like you. Huh, I should have named her Audra. They are so much alike.” He shot his glance back to Bastian and shrugged. “Besides, the only way I’ll get a mate is if the Creator drops her on my doorstep.”
Fat chance.
The Salvatore Ghost clan had magical wards set up around their property to guard against intruders. If anyone got too close to the supernatural alarm system, their worst nightmares would come true until they were a safe distance away. At least, they would think their fears were coming to attack them. The imagination is a powerful thing, and the wards played on those fears as if they were the real thing.
Afraid of spiders? That unfortunate person who suffered from arachnophobia would feel the hairy legs of those nasty creatures dancing across their skin while spinning webs of silk around their bodies. Bastian almost shit himself when a lost hiker strayed too close to their territory. The man had screamed and slapped at himself until he was at a safe distance. He’d deserved it. There were ‘No Trespassing’ signs all over the place. It had been fun to watch, though.
Pushing away the memory and trying to be angry at Malachi for being a douche wagon, Bastian hooked his hands on his hips and huffed out a long sigh. “You guys are really messing with my vibe. I’m usually the fun-loving asshole of the bunch. Well, I guess with me gone, Malachi will have to take over as the asshole, and Ambrose can be fun-loving.” He drew in a deep breath and let his smile widen his face even more. “It’s amazing how it’ll take two of you to be one little old me.” Lifting his right hand, he did a mock salute and ended it with giving Malachi the finger. “Call Cass anything but her God-given name again, and I’ll rip your face off and piss on it,” he said, his bright smile never wavering. “Oh, and I’ll tell Audra you called her sister a bitch.”
“You better fucking not tell Audra,” Malachi rushed out, voice losing the growl as his eyes dimmed to their usual grey. “Fuck you and your stupid flower on your stupid bag.”
“It may be fake, but Audra gave it to me.”
“Shyit,” Malachi whisper-yelled. “I hope I never see you again.”
Malachi could pretend as much as he wanted to, but he wasn’t as psychotic as he wanted everyone to think he was. He knew Audra would drive herself here and beat him unconscious. Then she’d wait for him to wake up and then beat him again. She was the smallest of the fallen angel Ghost shifters, but she was a mighty force to be reckoned with.
Hopefully for the last time that day, Bastian bent down, picked up his duffle bag, and slung it over his shoulder. “I already said my goodbyes to Gabe and Finn. Rafe can kiss my ass. He’s a whole whore, and I hope we don’t see each other for at least a hundred years. I’ll see you guys later.”
Bastian turned and walked out of Ambrose’s house, and headed to his blue and red pick-up truck parked in front of his place. He threw his bag into the bed of the vehicle and then turned to look at the gloomy houses of his brothers’.
It was always dark here. The piss-poor demeanor of him and his brothers had dimmed this place a long time ago. It wasn’t bright and lively like the Ghost’s homes in New Rose, and that’s what he wanted. He didn’t want a mate. He just wanted to be happy again, and he wouldn’t find that here.
Bastian needed penance for his selfish ways and negligence. The only way he could think of getting it without letting everyone know what he’d done was move so he could keep a watchful eye on the Alpha Triad. He’d be Cass’s punching bag if that made her happy.
He needed forgiveness. The part of him that would always be an angel required mercy from those he had wronged, and the one he’d wronged the most was Cass. She didn’t even know it. Her mates Jax and Damon –the Alpha and Omega of the Ghost shifter clan – would gut him if they found out he was the reason for all of this mess they were in.
Bastian was the reason Ronin killed those people in Ireland decades ago.
Bastian was the reason Samiyah and Remus formed the Rogue clan to destroy the Ghosts.
And he was the reason Cass had been murdered, resurrected by the Angel of Death, and was now trying to find balance in her life to keep going.
It was him. All him.
And he would do everything in his power to make things right again.
Chapter 2
Two months later
“Come on, Nevada,” her mother said as she leaned her shoulders against the wall next to the cash register. “You need to touch him. Just once. You’ll see what I’m talking about.”
“Mom, please don’t call me Nevada,” she mumbled as she exchanged the ten-dollar bill someone had left her as a tip for a five and five ones. A waitress always needed change.
Her mother blew out an exasperated breath and clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth. The door to the pub opened, letting the sunshine in, and the glow of light reflected from Mom’s mocha brown, bald scalp. “Fine. Nev. Go touch him. It’ll make me supremely happy if you do.”
Nev cut her eyes to her mother and shook her head. She knew exactly who Mom was talking about. The hot as sin, slightly douchy guy that sat at the same corner table every time he came into Melinda Bale’s Bar and Pub to eat lunch or dinner. If he came in and the table was occupied, Sabastian Booth –Nev was an amateur at stalking and had asked for his license when he paid with his credit card not only so she could see his full name, but find out if he lived or only worked in New Rose – would wait until the table was free.
He was in his mid-twenties and looked like a surfer dude who worked out every day just so ladies would notice his body. His chiseled jaw was covered in blond stubble. Nev was sure he trimmed the barely there facial hair that way to make himself look rugged. Sabastian joked and held conversations with anyone within talking distance, flirted with anything that had a vagina, and everyone loved his boyish ways. He had charisma and knew how to use it to make people smile.
Well, he wasn’t really that douchy, but sometimes he would stare at her like she was part of the menu. He hadn’t come on to her, but his hungry gazes were enough to make her want to hop on top of him and take him for a ride. Man, it had been a long dry spell.
Today, Sabastian’s long legs were encased in loose black jeans that still managed to show off every muscle in his thighs. Defined pecs that were visible through his light grey tee-shirt strained across his biceps. The color of his shirt made his ocean blue eyes pop, and his blond hair was longer on the top. Sharp cheekbones and full lips set off his handsome face, and he had a panty-dropping smile Nev was sure he used against every willing woman he came across who wanted to hand over her panties.
He looked up as Nev studied him, and to make herself seem less pervy for checking him out, she smiled and held up her finger to let him know she was on her way to him.
“He’s looking at you too, Nevada!” Mom shrieked.
Through gritted teeth, Nev whispered, “Cut it out.”
“Daughter, you are forty, flirty, and built like a brick-shit house. Screw that doctor who said you needed to lose weight. Cutie-boy over there will like it if you touch him. Trust me. You both gleam with the same light.”
Nev was pretty sure it was Thirty, Flirty, and some other crap she wasn’t familiar with, but it didn’t matter at all to her. She wasn’t looking for a man. Heck, Nev only took the job at the pub to give herself something to do. And right now, she had to go take Sabastian’s order.
Straightening her beige khaki cargo pants and blue and white work shirt with the pub logo, Nev ignored her mother’s quiet cat-calls and walked to the corner booth.
The idea to touch him flitted through Nev’s mind, but instead, she gave her best smile and said, “Welcome to Melinda Bale’s Bar and Pub. I’ll be your—”
“Why don’t you like being called by your full name?” Sabastian asked. His deep voice floated across her skin, and the megawatt smile he gave was playful and relaxed. But his eyes were sad.
His eyes were often troubled. When anyone paid too much attention, he would cloak that sadness with a smoldering look that made them forget, or a mischievous grin followed up by words that made you wonder whether or not he was being serious.
Heat filled Nev’s cheeks as she pulled the little notepad and pen from her navy blue waist-apron. He’d heard her from across the room? That was slightly embarrassing.
She smiled and said, “No one called me ‘Nev’ until I was fifteen, and I always associated my full name with being a child. I’m too old for that.” She shrugged up one shoulder and waggled the pen at him, hoping he would just give her his order so she could walk away with her hormones intact. “What can I get for you?”
His blue eyes focused on her. She wanted to ask him why he was so sad but thought better of it. Nev watched him often and knew he flirted like it was his part-time job. And right now, he was trying to work his hot-boy eye magic on her.
No thanks, playboy.
Sabastian’s gaze dropped to her black and blue sneakers and worked its way up her body, stopping to appreciate every curve of her full-figured physique. She’d be lying if she told anyone it made her uncomfortable, but he was too young, and she would never have relations with someone where she worked. You don’t poop where you eat. Grandad’s way of telling his grandkids not to get involved with people you worked with or lived too close to. She and Sabastian may not work together, but he was here often enough to make things really awkward if he was the butthole she thought he could be.
“I know how you feel. I don’t like being called Sabastian. I’d rather people just called me Bastian.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. What can I get for you, Bastian?”
Narrowing his eyes as if knowing she was mentally shutting him down, Bastian opened his menu and pointed at the breakfast list. “Is it too late for pancakes?”
With a tight-lipp
ed smile, Nev shook her head. “Nope. Breakfast items are served until four.” It said so in big red letters.
His answering smile was freaking gorgeous. “Whaddya’ know? Says so right here.” He plucked the big red letters and nodded once. “How do I always manage to forget that, Nev? I’ll take the pancake special. Bacon extra crispy. And let me get a side of grits.”
“You don’t want the grits,” Nev rushed out. “The chef was low on grits this afternoon, so the little bit we do have tastes like hot buttered water with kale mixed in it.” Melinda or Audra would bust a vein if either of them tasted it, but neither of them were here right now.
He nodded and dropped the menu. “I’ll take it. Sounds like an interesting mix.”
Gross. But, whatever. “And to drink?” she asked.
“A glass of water and two glasses of orange juice.”
He picked up the menu and handed it to her, and for just a brief moment, their fingertips grazed each other.
A shock of static electricity zinged up Nev’s arm, and by the way Bastian jumped, he’d felt it too.
“Sorry,” she said, shaking her hand to push away the tingles. Those stupid tingles shot straight up her arm and settled in her chest, and then filled out her body right down to her toes. The danged tingles were waking up her lady-parts. “I’ll be right back with your water,” she hurried out.
Bastian regarded her strangely as she backed away from the table, but Nev didn’t have the chance to think on it too much. Benny, another one of her regulars, raised his coffee cup to get her attention. She nodded at the behemoth of a man and smiled. After she gave the cook Bastian’s order and grabbed the carafe of coffee, Nev speed-walked over to Benny and topped off his cup. She made sure to give him three little containers of Irish Cream flavored coffee creamer. It was his favorite.
The petite, mouse-haired woman with pale porcelain skin who sat beside him shook her head at Nev. “Your mom always cracks me up.” Nev winked at the woman and turned her attention to Benny. “It’s the anniversary of my day,” the woman said, looking up at Benny. “Dad’s not doing too well. Would you bring him a cupcake? Chocolate. It’s his favorite.”
