Were We Belong Read online

  Were We Belong

  Shift Happens, Book 5

  Robyn Peterman

  Visit Robyn’s Website

  Copyright © 2019 by Robyn Peterman

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book 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, businesses, companies, events, or locales is coincidental.

  This book contains content that may not be suitable for young readers 17 and under.

  * * *

  Cover by Rebecca Poole of dreams2media

  Edited by Meg Weglarz

  Created with Vellum

  About This Book

  This book was a joy to write. I adore the Shift Happens series with my whole heart. Essie, Hank, Junior, Dima, Granny and Dwayne are some of my favorite people.

  * * *

  However, it was also bittersweet. This is the final book in the Shift Happens Series. I cried during the epilogue. It has one hell of a blowout wedding… and no, I will not tell you who gets married. Read the book, LOL.

  * * *

  I hope you enjoy reading Were We Belong as much as I loved writing it!

  * * *

  XOXO ~ Robyn

  Acknowledgments

  While writing may be a solitary experience, I have many wonderful people who help me get the book into the world.

  * * *

  Rebecca—your covers are brilliant.

  * * *

  Meg—your editing saved me from myself many times.

  * * *

  Donna—best critique partner ever.

  * * *

  Wanda—I’m screwed without you.

  * * *

  Susan—you are a dollbaby!

  * * *

  Kris—you are the Blurb Guru.

  * * *

  My husband and kids—I love you to the moon and back. Nothing is worth it without you.

  Dedication

  For Mina. My partner in crime!

  Contents

  Book Description

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  Note From The Author

  by Mina Carter

  Excerpt: His Runaway Lioness

  Chapter 1

  Robyn’s Book List

  About the Author

  Book Description

  I need a new freakin’ job.

  * * *

  It’s not what you think. I’m desperate to resign from the Werewolf Treaty Federation aka WTF. Don’t judge. I didn’t name this crew of misfit Shifters so hear me out.

  * * *

  After investigating a deadly Jazz Cabbage outbreak, I discover we need a necromancing Demon to help solve the crime. As luck would have it, my gay Vampyre BFF, Dwayne, dated one of these gems several decades ago. Seems all we need to do is summon his evil butt into this plane of existence and poof, crisis solved. The question is, can we bring him back without causing a flesh-eating, end of the world Zombie Apocalypse?

  * * *

  With my hunky mate, insane Granny and flamboyant Dwayne by my side, we have no choice but to succeed. If we don’t, the reveal of our existence to the human world is imminent.

  * * *

  We are Shifters. Werewolves. WTF. Shift Happens all the time. But this time, we’re making sure only good shift goes down.

  Chapter One

  “Oh my God,” I muttered, trying to hold back the bile rising in my throat.

  Outside the rain fell in torrents as if the sky cried for the senseless loss I was staring at.

  “What the hell?” Hank ground out, closing his eyes for a brief moment.

  The abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Chicago smelled of death—recent death. Blood and guts spattered the walls and body parts lay in mangled heaps on the cement floor. My guess—because accuracy was virtually impossible—was that we were looking at twenty or so bodies that had been torn apart. I walked slowly through the carnage and tried to figure out if anything in the cavernous room was still breathing.

  Today I hated my job.

  “I’ve seen a lot of ugly in my life,” Dwayne said, carefully pacing the perimeter to avoid the tragic mess. “But this is… I don’t even know what this is.”

  I agreed, but was afraid if I spoke that I would scream or throw up.

  What were these things? There was fur. There was skin.

  And there was a hell of a lot of blood.

  “I can’t even make out the species,” Hank said flatly, squatting down and examining the shredded pieces.

  “Dwayne can,” I whispered. “He can scent species.”

  Dwayne moaned and looked up at the rafters. “You actually want me to open my nostrils and smell this? Do you hate me, Essie?”

  Nodding absently, I continued searching for life knowing it was probably futile.

  Hank ran his hands through his hair and shook his head. “Dwayne is dead,” he said, stating the obvious. “He doesn’t breathe. Smelling goes hand in hand with breathing.”

  “And that’s how much you don’t know about Vampyres,” Dwayne announced raising a brow so high it would have touched his hairline, if he’d had one.

  My fabulously dead, gay, bald, Vampyre best friend sighed dramatically—which was truly for effect since breathing was unnecessary—and glared at my mate. If Dwayne was about to throw a hissy fit, I was about to toss his undead ass out of here.

  Yes, he was a Vampyre. Yes, I was a Werewolf. However, in an act of sheer love under dire circumstances, Dwayne had made me drink his blood. He’d also told me it would leave my system in a few days. He lied. Over a year later, I still had powers I shouldn’t have and didn’t want. So did my mate. I was definitely capable of tossing his undead butt out.

  However, I would never forget that Dwayne’s blood was what had saved both our lives. Hank said that when we had children, we should name one after Dwayne. While my mate had a good heart and a great ass, I was hoping we would have all girls to avoid paying that particular homage.

  “Definitely supernatural,” Dwayne said, sniffing the air and then gagging.

  “All Weres?” Hank asked tersely.

  Dwayne pressed his temples and continued to circle the warehouse. He nodded his head but looked perplexed.

  “What?” I asked, feeling a sense of foreboding in my roiling stomach.

  “All Werewolves,” Dwayne confirmed while paling, which was difficult for a Vamp. “And the Devil’s Lettuce.”

  Both Hank and I were silent. I was fairly sure I’d misunderstood. There was no Were species called the Devil’s Lettuce.

  “Come again?” Hank said, clearly confused.

  “You know,” Dwayne said with an eye roll. “The Devil’s Lettuce.”

  “Umm… no. We don’t know,” I said, trying to find someplace to look that wasn’t covered in blood and gore. “Dwayne, this isn’t a real good time to screw around.”

  “Not screwing around at all,” Dw
ayne insisted, crossing his heart—another dramatic gesture since his undead heart didn’t exactly beat. “The scent of Were is almost overpowered by the scent of Jazz Cabbage and something else very evil.”

  Hank and I just stared at the undead idiot. Bringing him with us on this mission had turned out to be a very bad plan.

  “Dwayne,” Hank said through clenched teeth, which made him look dangerously hot even though the situation wasn’t even remotely sexy. “Speak English.”

  Dwayne glanced over to see if Hank was serious.

  “Drug den,” Dwayne finally explained. “Every single body in here has come into contact with weed.”

  Hank squinted his eyes in disbelief at Dwayne. “Pot?”

  “Nooooo,” Dwayne said. “Its basic chemistry is pot, but this is something far more dangerous.”

  “So, this is a half-assed drug deal gone bad?” I asked, unable to believe that this was all about pot.

  “I’d have to say it’s a full-assed drug deal gone straight to Hell,” Dwayne muttered as he squatted down and picked up a clear baggy filled with greenish-brown crunched up leaves. However, there was something glowing in the bag. It threw off small gold sparks.

  “Dwayne,” I snapped. “Put that down. If anything happens to you, I’ll kill you.”

  “Already dead, Doll. But thanks for your concern,” he replied with a smirk. “I’m immune.”

  “To pot?” I was still not following.

  “Jazz Cabbage,” he said, shaking his head sadly. “Or Devil’s Lettuce if you prefer.”

  “It’s laced pot?” Hank inquired, watching the sparks dance around the bag.

  I stepped over the bodies and went to examine what my BFF held. My forward motion was halted by a swift move of Dwayne’s hand. “Laced with what?” I asked, staying back.

  “Magic,” Dwayne said quietly. “Very dark magic.”

  “Shit,” Hank growled. “How dark?”

  “Demon dark,” Dwayne whispered as his eyes widened.

  Throwing my hands in the air, I glanced around for someplace to sit since my stomach was still churning. However, every available space was covered in guts. I opted to stand. “Demons are real? I mean I know I skipped a bunch of Were history in school, but come on… Demons?”

  “Very real, Doll,” Dwayne said with a shudder.

  “And they’re just walking around in broad daylight killing the shit out of Weres?” I demanded.

  “Apparently.” Dwayne shrugged.

  “They don’t just walk around,” Hank said, as his hands fisted at his sides. “They have to be summoned.”

  “Who in hell is summoning Demons?” I shouted.

  “Pun intended?” Dwayne asked, with a very small smile.

  I paused and went back over my last sentence in my head. “Umm… no,” I admitted with a snort of inappropriate laughter. “But if I had meant it, it would have been good.”

  “I quite agree,” Dwayne said.

  “Pun aside,” Hank said. “The question was a fine one.”

  “And the answer?” Dwayne said, tucking the bag into his man purse.

  “That’s exactly what you’re going to find out,” an ominous voice announced as the speaker and his sidekicks stepped out from the shadows.

  “Oh fuck,” Dwayne muttered under his breath.

  “I second that,” I whispered.

  “Third,” Hank muttered.

  It was the Bobs. The Bobs did not fuck around. Ever.

  The three bland looking men stood side by side and took in the shit show with distaste and disgust. I stood my ground and waited to hear what they would say. I was slightly terrified of the Bobs—everyone was. As benign as they appeared, they were vicious when pissed off. And clearly this tragic mess pissed them off. Of course, since Hank and I were now members of the Governing Council, these scary Werewolves were our freakin’ coworkers.

  “Did you find anything helpful?” Bob One inquired, shaking his head at the carnage.

  “Pot,” I said.

  “Jazz Cabbage,” Dwayne corrected me.

  “Interesting. Any trace of Demon?” Bob Two asked, putting his hand out for the deadly evidence.

  Dwayne handed the Devil’s Lettuce over carefully and the three men examined it. Hank glanced over and I shrugged. Being officers of the Werewolf Treaty Federation aka WTF—which seemed appropriately named right now—was fast becoming a horrible choice on our part. Not that we’d had much of a choice…

  “No traces of Demon,” Hank stated. “Or none that I’m aware of.”

  Bob Three brushed imaginary lint off of his impeccably pressed and wildly boring black suit and then sighed. “Have any of you ever actually seen a Demon?”

  “No,” I answered.

  “Same,” Hank replied.

  Dwayne was strangely silent. As a Vampyre, he wasn’t part of the Werewolf Treaty Federation. The Bobs held no authority over him. However, his silence was telling. Dwayne clearly sensed a Demon.

  “They’re usually discreet,” Bob Three went on, eyeing Dwayne casually. “Which makes them quite difficult to detect.”

  “They look human?” I asked, trying to draw Bob Three’s attention away from Dwayne. Nothing the Bobs did was ever casual.

  “Possibly,” Bob One said. “I’ve never seen one.”

  “From what I’ve heard, Demons are quite small with tiny red horns and spiky tails,” Bob Two chimed in looking as serious as a heart attack.

  Dwayne grunted quietly and rolled his eyes.

  “Red eyes and putrid breath,” Bob Three added.

  Again, Dwayne rolled his eyes so hard I was sure they’d get stuck in the back of his sockets.

  “Sharp black claws, pointed ears and fangs,” Bob One announced, all the while watching Dwayne. “Some have reported that the Demons are also hunchbacked and wear tap shoes.”

  I was utterly speechless. The Bobs had no sense of humor whatsoever, so I could only surmise their information was correct. However, Dwayne… Dwayne had clearly had enough.

  “Are you idiots out of your minds?” Dwayne shouted and threw his hands in the air as the Bobs simply smiled. “Werewolves are not equipped to handle stressful situations and should never repeat what they hear. If you can’t eat it, chase it, or play with it, you should just pee on it and walk away.”

  “Oh my God,” I gasped on a terrified laugh, quickly stepping in front of Dwayne to block the Bobs access to my insane BFF. “He didn’t mean that—at all. Right, Dwayne?”

  I gave him a quick elbow to his stomach and waited for him to take back his hilariously creative insult. He didn’t.

  “Meant every word. The Bobs know it too,” Dwayne huffed as flipped some imaginary hair over his shoulder, which was definitely for effect since he had none. He approached the still smiling Bobs with an evil little grin of his own. “I always thought you three were humorless turds, but now I see you’ve gained a few new skills.”

  “Whatever could you be talking about?” Bob One inquired with what I think was a smirk—or constipation.

  “You are most definitely aware that I know what a Demon looks like,” Dwayne said flatly.

  I held my breath and waited for more. If Dwayne was about to announce he was a Demon, I was gonna pass out. The Bobs feigned surprise. Hank was the only one present with a good poker face.

  The silence was killing me. It was like the electricity had gone out while I was watching a great movie on TV where they were about to catch the killer and then… nothing. Pitch-black nothing. Well, as far as I was concerned the electricity was working just fine and I wasn’t one to hold back.

  “Okay, I’ll bite—no pun intended—however, it is a good pun,” I said with yet another inappropriate giggle. “Dwayne, how do you know what a Demon looks like?”

  Dwayne’s put-upon sigh made me slightly nervous. I was never quite sure what was going to come out of his mouth.

  “Becausssssse… I dated one a few decades ago,” he said. “How the Bland Bobs got this information makes
me very curious.”

  “Bobs?” I questioned. I was fully within my rights to question my fellow council members even if they frightened the heck out of me. “How do you know this?”

  “The Bobs know all,” Bob One announced condescendingly, with an impressively raised brow.

  Holy Hell they were annoying. “Is it fun to speak about yourselves in the third person?” I asked before I could stop myself.

  The silence was deafening and both Dwayne and Hank yanked me between them.

  “Actually, it is,” Bob One said with the first genuine smile I’d ever seen on his face.

  It was a real smile—not one that made me think he wanted to eat a puppy. Stupidly, this made me bold. “I’m gonna have to call bullshit on that one,” I pointed out, stepping out of the Dwayne and Hank sandwich I was wedged in. “You have no idea what happened here or who’s responsible for it.”

  Bob One’s smile disappeared as quickly as it had appeared and I swiftly jumped back into my protective Werewolf-Vampyre sandwich. Getting cocky with the Bobs was a no-no and potentially life-threatening.