Ready to Were Read online

  Hank, Granny, Dwayne and I had just spent a magical week in Jamaica. I'd gotten engaged, sun burned and had more fantabulous sex with Hank than I'd ever had in my life. Jamaica was now my favorite place in the world. Of course Hank and I were already mated, which in the Were Wolf world was as good as married, but since we inhabited the human world too we decided to tie the knot.

  "Please tell me you didn't snap Granny in her thong bikini," I said as I took a huge sip of my Coke and said a quick prayer to all the angels and saints.

  "Oh for heaven's sake, no. But I did get some gritty yet artistic nudes of her," Dwayne said with glee.

  "Left side or right?" Granny inquired as she carefully folded her straw wrapper into a small football.

  "Right," he answered as he examined a few shots.

  "Good because my right boob is slightly bigger than the left one. Wanna show my best assets."

  "Okay, let's start today over" I said wearily as I positioned my fingers in a goal post so that Granny could flick her paper football. "We have three days in Hung before we have to report to Chicago. I need to pick out a wedding dress."

  "And invitations," Dwayne interrupted.

  "Yes, invitations. And we have to brief Junior so he can take over the Pack," I continued.

  "And pick out your flowers and a cake," Dwayne added.

  "Yep--flowers and cake. And we have to make sure Granny can still shoot a gun straight," I said, trying to steer the conversation back on track of what was actually important.

  "I resent that, sugar lips," Granny said as she downloaded Scrabble onto Dwayne's phone.

  "And we have to get a caterer and a band and a photographer and a..." Dwayne reeled off like an auctioneer on crack.

  "I'm gonna elope," I hissed as a large and ugly headache exploded between my eyebrows.

  There was silence.

  Blessed silence."

  And then there were tears.

  "Do you hate me?" Dwayne blubbered.

  "Um...no?" I answered wondering if this was a trick question.

  "Well, I am feeling hate. I have only been in one wedding in my three hundred years. The bride was an absolute cow and the groom had three teeth."

  I winced at the image he'd just planted in my brain and hoped this was going to be one of his shorted diatribes.

  "There were a total of three blind people and four others that no one knew at the wedding and I had to wear a robe."

  "Why in tarnation were you wearing a bath robe?" Granny asked as I kicked her under the table.

  We did not need to encourage these nightmare-inducing stories.

  "It wasn't a bath robe," Dwayne huffed indignantly. "I have far better taste than that. It was a clerical robe."

  "I'm about to ask a question that I'm sure I don't want the answer to, but...why were you wearing a clerical robe?" I inquired--because as much as I didn't want to hear the rest of the story, my morbid curiosity always got the better of me.

  "It was when I was a Catholic priest," he said as if that were even a little bit logical.

  "I got nothing," I mumbled as I held up my hand and tried to get Donna Jean's attention so we could order, eat and leave.

  "I wasn't an actual priest," Dwayne explained. "It was because I was bald. The monastery was full of hair-impaired fellas and I fit right in. It was winter and they were an unending blood supply. It was totally awesome. Plus those holy men had a wonderful glee club and they let me sing tenor."

  "You ate monks?" I asked as the headache moved to my temples.

  "Noooooooooo, I just sipped. They were a bit bland, but what would you expect?"

  I decided to ignore him and move on. Sometimes it was the easiest thing to do with Dwayne. The waitress, Donna Jean, was clearly on her break as she was sitting at the counter and had taken off her shoes. She was a Were Fox and had bunions. That was a mystery to me since all the Weres I knew were exempt from most human ailments. Granny said she was just lazy and I tended to agree.

  "Guys, we're out of here," I said as I stood to leave. "Donna Jean has her shoes off and that means she's about to go out back and have a smoke which she'll make Chauncey hold so she can pretend that she quit. Getting fed is out of the question."

  "Seeing as Dwayne doesn't eat food and I had five breakfast burritos this morning, I'm good with that," Granny said.

  I gaped at her and wondered where she put it. She was tiny--looked like a young slim Sophia Loren. She was eighty, but didn't look a day over forty. Weres aged very slowly.

  "Doesn't anyone want to hear about my time as a man of God?" Dwayne asked, a bit miffed.

  "You weren't a real priest, were you?" I asked as I slurped down the rest of my soda.

  "Oh heavens, no."

  I paused and placed my glass back on the table. "Oh my God, that woman and her three toothed husband thought they were legally married."

  "Sweet Baby Jesus in a thong," Dwayne gasped as he paled even more than his usual shade. "I never thought about that. There could be thousands of toothless bastards running around the world thinking they're legitimate. Sweet mother of Lady Gaga," Dwayne wailed attracting the attention of everyone in the small diner. "What have I done?"

  "What's done is done," Granny stated with a chuckle. "Who knows if they even procreated... Were they Weres?"

  "They were Were Cows," Dwayne whispered in a strangled voice.

  A burst of laughter escaped my lips and I had to sit back down so I didn't fall. "Oh. My. Hell," I said as I wiped the tears from my eyes. "There is no such thing as a Were Cow."

  I looked to Granny for conformation, but she had paled a whiter shade than Dwayne. In fact I was certain she was about to puke. What in the mother humper was going on here?

  "There is no such thing as a Were Cow," I repeated in a whisper so the humans in the diner wouldn't hear. They lived blissfully unaware of the paranormal world around them.

  "Yes there is," Granny muttered tightly and shook her head.

  "So wait," I said to Dwayne. "When you said she was an absolute cow, you meant Were Cow--not that she was fat?"

  "For Cher's sake," Dwayne said as if I was two years old. "All Were Cows are fat and yes when I said Cow I meant Cow--fat, magical and deadlier than a Dragon."

  My smile was now gone. How in the hell was there a species I didn't know about? Cows? There were feakin' Were Cows--and they were dangerous? This was too much.

  "Where's the camera?" I asked.

  "What camera? My hair is a mess," Granny said alarmed as she ducked under the table in terror.

  "Never mind." It was too much to hope I was being punked. "Out. Now," I snapped at my dysfunctional little posse. "We're going over to the Sheriff's office to talk to Junior."

  "That's good," Granny said as she cased the diner for cameras. "We'll have privacy there."

  "Can Junior hack?" Dwayne asked as he slung his man purse over his shoulder.

  "Why?" I asked as I dragged them out of yet another establishment.

  "Because I have a potential bovine bloodbath on my hands," he replied.

  "I'm not sure how much worse this day could get." I heaved a huge sigh and grabbed Dwayne's phone from Granny. The least I could do was save the harmless electronic's life.

  "Trust me, if Junior can't hack his way into a few probably obsolete sites, this day could go to hell in a hand basket pretty damn fast," Dwayne said as he rushed ahead.

  That's when I noticed he was still wearing the blush pink stilettos from the bridal shop. I suppose there was one good thing--I could turn Dwayne in for shoplifting. If he had to spend a couple of hours in the pokey maybe I'd have a little peace.

  ***

  "He stole them," I announced to Junior as we entered the sheriff's office with the first real smile on my face since Hank had pulled me over for speeding a couple of hours ago.

  "It was an accident," Dwayne whined as he gave me the stink eye and Granny chucked with delight.

  "Well boy, you stretched the livin' hell out of these shoes," Junior said
with a huge grin on his handsome face as he examined the stilettos that Dwayne had grudgingly handed over.

  Junior was Hank's older brother by two years. By all rights he should have been the alpha of the Georgia Wolf Pack, but when their father had retired Junior was too busy chasing skirts and partying so Hank had stepped up.

  Hank, besides being hotter than asphalt in August and my fiancee, was an outstanding alpha--deadly and fair. Surprisingly there wasn't an ounce of hostility or competition between the brothers. In a twist of fate, their mother had given birth to two alpha boys.

  "You know I'm richer than Midas. I would never steal shoes," Dwayne pleaded his case as we all grinned.

  "That may be so, but the evidence speaks differently," Junior said in his official deputy sheriff voice. "You're gonna have to return the shoes, pay for them and offer up your services for twenty-four hours to the gals at the shop."

  Dwayne's scream of pleasure made my stomach drop to my toes and Granny cackle with laughter. The girls were gonna crap.

  "Um...Junior, not sure that's the best plan," I said as diplomatically as I could.

  "Sure it is," Junior said with a satisfied smirk as he sat back and plopped his cowboy boot clad feet up on his messy desk. "Those bridal Weasels are trying to poison Sandy Moongie's mind against going out with me. Serves them right if Dwayne goes in and shakes it up a little."

  Shaking it up was an understatement. Dwayne would have them hosting full on bridal drag shows if he had twenty-four hours. However, Junior's reasoning was interesting.

  "Junior, I'm sure your man-whore reputation might be part of the issue," I said as I knocked his feet off of his desk.

  "Those days are behind me," he explained.

  "Since when?"

  "Um...I'm guessin' it's been about a week give or take a day," he said.

  My eye roll was one of the largest I'd ever produced. I knew Junior had it bad for Sandy. The entire reason I had come back to Hung Island, Georgia was that I'd been sent down here undercover to find out who was kidnapping Weres. I was and am an agent of the unfortunately named WTF, Were Wolf Treaty Federation. It had turned out to be some egomaniacal Were Dragons who were trying to cross breed species and take over the paranormal world. They were now dead thanks to a disastrous mind meld by Dwayne that killed two and my ripping off the head of the third. Sandy had been one of the kidnapped Weres we had saved and she was far too smart to get involved with Junior...

  "It's gonna take more than a week--give or take a few days, to get rid of your well earned reputation," I told him.

  "Two weeks?" he asked.

  "Um...more like a year or so," Granny informed him.

  "Dang it, I don't have a year," Junior grumbled as he stood up and accidently knocked everything off of his desk. He paced the office and we all backed up. Junior was huge and dangerously clumsy when he was agitated. "Some dumbass Were dude could snap her up in that time."

  "Guess you should have thought about that when you were doing the horizontal hula with half of Georgia," Dwayne offered unhelpfully.

  "Oh my Hell," Junior said as he sat back down and dropped his head into his hands. "I'm gonna have to dedicate every waking minute I have to getting Sandy to believe I've finished my man hooker phase."

  "He's really off the charts MENSA?" Dwayne whispered skeptically as we all watched Junior scribble out a list of how he was going to get rid of his gigolo rep.

  "Yep," I whispered back. "He's brilliant."

  "Junior, you chatted with Hank yet?" Granny inquired as she sat down next to him and started her own list to help him out.

  "Nope, you guys just got back two days ago. He told me we'd talk later today," Junior said as he peeked over at Granny's list and gasped. "I have to go to church and confess my sins? Sandy's dad is the preacher. I just feel that that might a little awkward and potentially deadly after we mate and all."

  "Hell's bells, you're right, Junior. Preacher Moongie would skin you alive," she agreed as she crossed that one off the list. "You might not know how to keep your possum in your pants, but you're a nice boy. You don't deserve to die because you can't keep your flesh sword in your grundies."

  "Thank you," he said.

  "Welcome."

  "Is it time for me to do my community service at the shop?" Dwayne asked as he bounced up and down like a kid on Christmas morning.

  "Don't you want to know if Junior can hack?" I reminded him.

  "Oh dear god, yes," Dwayne said as he slipped his heels back on. "Junior, I have a little bitty problem on my hands."

  "Potentially a cluster womper of epic proportions," Granny added.

  "Yes," Dwayne admitted. "It seems like I might have posed as a priest a couple hundred years ago and might have accidentally performed an illegal wedding. It was an oversight on my part. I was so excited to get to wear something that resembled a dress without getting my ass kicked that I possibly got carried away."

  "You lost me," Junior said.

  "I performed an unlicensed and illegal wedding between two...um," Dwayne was at a loss.

  "Two what?" Junior asked.

  "Cows," Dwayne choked out.

  "So what?" Junior said with a laugh and a shrug. "Two cows can't get married in Georgia. That would be a gay marriage. And let me go on record and say I'm all for gay marriage. However, it would have to be a cow and a bull and as far as I know most people don't hold weddings for their farm animals. Bulls are bigger man whores than me. Old Farmer McDonald only has one bull and about thirty cows. That son of a bitch bovine gets around."

  "He's really MENSA?" Dwayne asked again.

  "Yep," Junior said sadly. "But don't spread it around. It hurts my rep with the ladies."

  "Oh my god," I huffed as I sat down knowing this was going to take a while. "I thought you were giving up the ladies for Sandy."

  "Sweet baby Moses, you're right." Junior slapped his head and scribbled a few more to do's on his list. "I'm gonna take out an ad in the paper about my brains."

  "That's an alarmingly fantastic idea," Dwayne said kindly, "But I'm not talking about farm animals. I unlawfully wedded two Were Cows."

  The silence was deafening as we watched Junior take in what Dwayne had said.

  Junior's laugh was large and loud. "You almost got me. You are one slick Vamp." Junior shook his head and slapped his knee knocking the coffee maker into the water cooler.

  "Not joking here," Dwayne said without a trace of humor on his beautiful undead face.

  "He's really not," Granny added as she put an arm around Dwayne.

  Junior was up and pacing again. I pulled my feet up so he didn't step on them and break my toes. Of course they would heal quickly, but it would hurt. He stopped and stared at the wall for a full minute. We stayed silent and watched. His burst of movement scared the hell out of all of us as he ran to his computer and punched keys a mile a minute.

  Granny patted Dwayne's bald head as he heaved a huge and dramatic sigh, which was ridiculous because Vampyres didn't breathe. For having such huge fingers, Junior typed faster than anyone I'd ever seen.

  "Holy sheeeeeot," he said as he wiped some sweat from his brow. "You might be in luck. They seem to be extinct."

  "Are you sure?" Dwayne asked hopefully.

  "Not entirely," he admitted as he scrolled the site he was on. "I'll have to hack into some more data bases to be sure."

  "Okay, let me get this straight," I said sarcastically. "A species of Were I did not know existed is now extinct? How in the hell does a Were species go extinct?"

  "Apparently the female Cow often ate the male after he impregnated her," Junior read from the screen. "God dang, that's sick," he muttered. "They didn't even kill the poor bastards before they ate them--chowed down while they were still kickin'. After a while it seems they ran out of males and they became a lesbian society. That served to be a problem as far as numbers went."

  I was really grateful I hadn't eaten any lunch because my stomach was churning.

  "Thank Tina L
ouise, that is fabulous news," Dwayne said as he dropped down on a chair and let his head fall back on his shoulders. "Death by bovine tusk is so messy."

  "They have tusks?" I asked yet another question I didn't really want the answer to.

  "Had. Had tusks," Dwayne corrected me.

  "That's not definitive though, is it Junior?" Granny asked quietly.

  "I'm gonna have to do a little more research, but it looks pretty good that they died off."

  "How long is that gonna take?" Granny asked.

  "Don't know--a few weeks possibly," he said. "I'll have to call in some geek favors on this one."

  "I'll pay you," Dwayne offered.

  "Hell to the no." Junior chuckled. "You're my sister-in-law's best friend and her man of honor in the wedding. I'll just consider this family duty."

  There was silence.

  Blessed silence.

  And then there was blubbering.

  Again.

  "I do not know what I did to deserve this kind of love," Dwayne sobbed. "I love all of you so much it makes my fangs hurt. Junior I would like to give you the gift of some of my blood."

  "No," I yelled as I dove across the room and sat on Dwayne before he opened up a vein for Junior.

  When we had gotten ready to take down the Dragons, Dwayne had made me drink some of his blood. It made me stronger and my sense of smell had kicked into overdrive. However, it also enabled me to rip the head off a Dragon with my bare hands without even realizing I had done it. In the end it was what saved Hank's and my life, but it was scary and wrong--and it still hadn't left my system. Dwayne thought it would only last a few days, but we were going on a few weeks at this point and I still felt the residual effects.

  "No blood exchange," I said firmly. "A nice waffle iron will suffice."

  "Or a new coffee pot," Granny suggested as she eyed the one Junior had just demolished.

  "How about a Hummer?' Dwayne asked.

  "Oh my god Dwayne, that is so inappropriate," I yelled.

  "What?" he asked bewildered. "I was talking about a car."

  "Oh. Sorry," I muttered.

  "Anyhoo," Granny interjected saving me from myself and my dirty mind. "I think it's time for the shoplifting Vampyre to do his community service. Let's go, blood sucker," she said affectionately to Dwayne. "Those Were Weasels will have no idea what hit them."