Standard Deviation of Death (The Outlier Prophecies Book 4)

by Tina Gower

  He pops out just as quickly. “Hells, sorry.” There’s a weird silence and then he calls from outside the door. “I didn’t realize you were getting dressed.”

  I look down and realize I’m in my bra and underwear. Not exactly completely naked, but this is the most skin he’s seen. Sure I’ve not worn much in bed with him lately, but he always keeps his eyes politely above the sheets.

  And Becker in his towel wrapped loosely around his waist is the most skin I’ve seen on him. Well, not true. He did strip down to his boxers last night when he wasn’t feeling well. He also wasn’t nervous last night, like he obviously is now as he grips the tuck in his towel to keep it shut and stares at the ceiling in the hallway.

  He clears his throat. “Could you throw me my sweatpants?”

  Could I? Yeah. Would I? Still up for debate.

  I dig through his duffle until I find a pair of boxers. No sweatpants in sight. So, honest, it’s not my fault. I hand over the boxers with a failed-straight-face-that-trembles-into-a-grin. He manages to grab them without looking over at me. I take a step back.

  “These aren’t sweatpants,” he says, but shimmies them up under his towel anyway. With a clear view of his torso, I see the flush of pink dotting his chest. I turn off the lights, but the afternoon sun keeps the room at full brightness, so I pull the curtains. The lack of light dims the room to an amber grey.

  I head over to the bed and slide under the covers. “How does this work exactly? The more skin the better, right? How did your other pack handle this?”

  He sits on the edge of the bed, facing away from me, towel in his lap. “When I became part of a pack, I started to see the differences between wolves and how I’d been raised. The things that the cultural events my parents would drag me to didn’t go into detail about. Wolves don’t much mind showing more skin. A little more affectionate with their touch, but usually more so with other pack mates and respecting the boundaries of others. When you’re a kid, cuddling with your parents during a movie, or a family nap together is enough. As I grew older I needed something else.”

  “When did you join your pack?”

  He glances at me. “I’d been in contact with Adam and Marco over message boards and email since I was fourteen. I’d gone to an event for at-risk werewolf youth and they were there as older teen mentors and we’d hit it off. My dads encouraged the interaction and I flew to Angel’s Peak a few times a year. I became part of their pack right after high school and attended the police academy here.” He half grins. “It won’t surprise you to know I’m a late bloomer as far as wolves go. It was really hard for me to adjust to life with a pack, because I’ve always had social anxiety.” His voice goes really quiet and deeper. “I’m not trying to be frustrating. It’s just Jaylee was the first time I’d ever had sex and the only person.” He looks at his hands, fiddling with the edges of the towel.

  My throat swells. He probably doesn’t want to let her go just yet. “It’s okay if you want to have more time.”

  He sighs. “That’s not it.” He lowers his elbows to his knees, hanging his head. “I was fine in the academy and our pack functioned well, but once the stress of the job kicked in…it’s when I got worse.

  “Jaylee was impulsive, like me. She got an idea one day that I’d get better if I just got laid and so she cornered me in the shower after I’d got off the night shift. It was about as horrible as you can imagine a first time going. She convinced me to try again, but with some alcohol to loosen me up.”

  He tosses the towel into the corner of the room. “You saw how great that technique works for me.”

  “So we don’t booze you up. Got it.” He doesn’t laugh. Instead he flexes and unflexes his fingers against his knees. I wonder if I should touch him; maybe it will make him less nervous? I end up facing his back, leaning toward him, waiting for some sign that I’d be welcome.

  He pushes the words out like they’re overgrown bushes and he needs to hack through them. “I’m not the type of wolf that can do a casual relationship and I didn’t have any feelings that way toward Jaylee. So all it did was make things worse in some ways. She took it really hard, because she blamed herself for my decline. But she was right about one thing and that was that sex did work to smooth out my rougher spots. I craved it and I didn’t have the guts to try with anyone else. So we got pulled into this…” He blows out a breath like the frustration of the past is bubbling back up. “It wasn’t healthy. For either of us.”

  I don’t say anything. What is there to say? I tighten the sheet around me. Why did I think diving into bed in my bra and underwear would help at all? My lungs ache. I wish the room were darker so I could scoot over to one side of the bed and pretend to be invisible.

  “Sex will make everything a lot more complicated.” He traces the lines along his palm. “I don’t want to do to you what Jaylee did to me. I don’t want to trap you into this.”

  I nod even though he’s not facing me and can’t see me. I’m sure he can hear my heart beating and smell the anxiety in my sweat.

  I prop myself up, but my gaze is locked on my lap. “Is it because I pushed you away? Do you think I’m in this because I gave in to what you wanted and this is easier? Because I’m not. I’ll say it over and over until you believe it, but I’m attracted to you—”

  “I was attracted to Jaylee.” He shakes his head. “Attraction doesn’t equal love.”

  Love. It’s like a bat between the eyes. I don’t have anything to say in response—it’s not as though he says he loves me, it’s not that blatant of a statement—so I sit like an idiot twisting my fingers around each other. My mouth is open, as if it might have an idea, but nothing manifests.

  “I’ve really fucked this up.” Becker reaches for the handcuffs.

  My hand darts out to stop him. “Don’t.” My eyes are wide. I really don’t have a clue what I was going to say after that. The handcuffs feel like we failed in some way. He shouldn’t wear them anymore.

  He arches an eyebrow at me. When I don’t continue he gently moves his wrist forward into the open ring.

  I tighten my hold around him. “I said don’t. Not tonight. You’re so right. You’ve fucked this up.” I ease closer to him. “In your mind there are a million reasons why we can’t be together, why we should wait. You’ll go feral. You’ll trap me.” I let him go, but my hand skims up his arm instead. “But I’m fucking this up too. I have just as many reasons. They’ll transfer us to different departments at work. I’ve never been anyone’s person and I specialize in being left or leaving.” My hand reaches his shoulder and strays down his spine. I close my eyes and press my other thumb to the space between my eyes. “All you had to do was kiss me.”

  His chest expands as though he’s holding in air that ends with him chuckling under his breath. A nervous laugh, but he eases under the covers, we adjust, and fidget with small movements until we’re together. He tucks my head onto his shoulder, kissing my forehead and then my shoulder. His fingers skim along my arm and then to my hip. My leg tangles with his, my feet sliding along his calf. He hisses, a sharp breath inward, and our lips lock. A desperate kiss that gradually turns slow and lazy. He breaks away.

  I run my fingers through his hair and he lets out a soft moan and relaxes against me. “You make this too easy, Kate.” He says it like I shouldn’t. As if I should be more difficult for some important reason. But he also pulls me closer as though he’s come to some decision.

  His eyelids lower, flickering, as if he’s fighting to stay awake.

  Every nerve tingles and my breathing is shallow, but he doesn’t go for the cuffs. I take it as a small victory.

  He hugs me more snug against him, his face is more lax than before. He’s definitely fading, the day finally catching up to him. I rub my thumb lightly along the dark spots under his eyes and along his jaw until he loosens his clenched teeth. It’s not long until he’s doing that low grumble thing, the purring, or snoring or whatever he does.

  I think I’m too keyed
up to sleep, but a few seconds later I’m nodding off and jerking awake, too, hovering between mental states. The soft rhythm of Ian’s rumbles like a white noise machine lulling me to sleep. It’s strange how we’ve only been officially a couple for two days, but I’m closer to Ian than I’ve ever been with anyone.

  That’s why it scares me that there are so many ways I could lose him. We could get transferred and he would resent me or I him, he could go feral, or one or both of us will eventually feel trapped like he explained in his history with Jaylee. But lying here with him, all those fears melt away.

  Beepbeepbeep beepbeepbeep beepbeepbeep—Becker’s alarm chimes like a banshee screeching the waltz. My swollen eyes manage to open into slits. The amber grey is replaced by the complete darkness of no moon. A bedside clock says it’s 6:45 p.m. and the cord is within my reach so I yank it from the wall. It goes black, but the beeping continues. I prop myself up to investigate, but the wolf next to me has other ideas. He uses his body to pin me down between the pillows and him.

  “Where were we?” he mumbles as he trails kisses down my neck.

  “Sleeping.” I gasp. “We were sleeping.”

  He eases between my legs and his lips drag along the top of my bra. He licks.

  His brows furrow. “What the fuck is that?” He slaps the alarm from the nightstand, confused when it doesn’t stop the beeping.

  Becker has always had trouble waking from a deep sleep, and although this is no different, there’s a certain extra confusion as he shakes himself awake.

  “Becker—” I whisper.

  He drops his head over my right breast, the fog of his breath tickling me through the lace of my bra. “It’s my pants. In the bathroom. I left my phone…there.” His other palm creeps up my side. “Give me a minute.” He breathes in deep and our lips meet again. “Or twenty.” He grips my hips, rubbing against me. “Shit. Give me a week.”

  We align in the exact perfect spot through our layers of clothes and we both groan.

  I pull his head up to see his irises. Vibrant teal. Good. “I thought you said you weren’t any good at this.”

  He lowers his head to hide a grin. “I said my first time was awful. I didn’t say I never improved from there.”

  “Is this real? Not some werewolf hormonal thing, or the moon cycle, or you half-asleep.”

  “Wolves being affected by the moon is horse shit.” He unclasps my bra and eases it from my shoulders.

  “What about all the reasons we shouldn’t do this?”

  “I’m drawing a huge blank at the moment.” He palms one breast and sucks on the other.

  I fall against the pillows. “Okay.” I nod, panting. “If you’re sure. Oh gods, don’t stop whatever you’re doing.”

  But he does. One minute he’s flattening his tongue against my nipple, then next he’s not. He lets out a string of curses. “Your cousin has the worst possible timing.”

  “What? She should be at work.” I bolt upright in the bed, expecting her to fly through the bedroom door. Or to hear her humming in the kitchen while she whips up an after-work snack.

  “She’s a few blocks away,” Becker explains. He rolls over onto his back. “She’s killing me. This is part of her payback. She must have a ward on this room for this exact scenario.”

  “She doesn’t.” Unable to find my own clothes—only rows of inappropriate club shirts, the leather teddy, and a short mini skirt—I snag one of Becker’s dirty flannel shirts on the closet floor. I button a few buttons, don’t bother putting on any pants. Ali will get the picture and leave us alone for at least another hour. “I’ll make her go away.”

  Becker turns over and slams a pillow over his head. “I don’t believe this.”

  I pat his back. “She was celibate for a year. She will certainly take sympathy on you.”

  He glares at me from under his pillow fortress. “A year? She has no idea. None.”

  I leave him alone and rush out to the living room, turn off the alarm on his phone in the bathroom on my way to the living room, and peek out the blinds.

  Her car speeds, a little faster than necessary down the gravel road. Yeah, we had an issue with the timing on Becker’s shift and hers beginning and ending at the exact same time. Not accounting for travel time, it was a tight schedule, but there’s no need to be erratic. No need to rush here and leave her work early. Her car fishtails into the front driveway area and she skids to a stop, bolting from her car and toward the house.

  “Kate! Ian! Where the seven hells are you?”

  I open the door and she flies past me.

  “I’ve been calling you every ten minutes. And texting. You didn’t answer.” She goes straight for the cabinets and picks out a box of salt. And another. She slams them onto the counter. “Goddess, Kate, we’re in huge trouble.”

  Becker stomps in from the bedroom, mid pulling on pants. She glances at him. Then at me clad only in his shirt. At him again.

  She kicks the cupboard. “I don’t even have a witty comment for this messed up shit. We’re about to die and you both decide now is a good time to consummate?”

  Becker holds his fists at his side, and his lips curl up into a snarl, but under all that pissed off wolf is, yes, a blush.

  I stand between my cousin and my boyfriend to keep them from lunging at each other. “Ali, you’re going to have to explain.”

  She huffs. “All right. Yeah, so you didn’t get a single one of my texts.” She tosses me a box of salt and one to Becker. “Start with a salt circle. I’ve already done all the entryways, but we got to check them to be sure none of the lines got broken in the last two days.” Neither of us moves. She flings her arms at us. “Go!”

  I start the circle and motion for her to continue. Becker grunts and follows my lead.

  She sweeps the salt at the base of the front window into a fine line, smoothing out any gaps. “So I’m at work and who shows up? Dorcus fucking Williams fucking hyphen Brazil, that’s who. If you guys are going to question a witch, don’t give her a warning, for god’s sake. She orders a drink, takes a sip and asks me about you all while patting her very round belly. And let me add that she had a bit of redness in the eyes. I asked her about it. Said she had allergies. To fateless bitches who won’t stay away. But you know, she didn’t mean bitches in a mean way. I think she was referring to you being practically a werewolf now. But I probably shouldn’t have called her by her legal name.”

  “Shit.” I shake the salt faster.

  “What did you do?” she asks me. “I left you alone for one afternoon.”

  I go through all the events of this afternoon.

  Becker answers for me. “I put Talia on twenty-four-hour surveillance. No visitors. And I”—he bites his lips and shoots me an apologetic look—“I had Lipski bring the Brazil brothers in for questioning. You said we should question them. We didn’t really have any clearance, but it was our only opportunity to move while they wouldn’t know.” He turns to Ali. “Because of your cookies. The effects were wearing off for me and we had to make the decision quickly after you questioned Emmanuel.”

  “You could have warned me.” Her voice is high pitched, squeaking as she tears into Becker.

  Becker grips his box. “And you think that leading her right to us was a good idea?”

  “I tried to call!” She shakes her head, muttering, “I can’t believe you, vegetarian hippie wolf. You’re going to be useless until you have sex again.”

  “I. Was. Working. On. That,” Becker says between his teeth.

  “No.” She shakes her salt at him and the white grains fling out between them. “You were waiting for true love’s kiss like Sleeping fucking Beauty.”

  I shake the last of the salt into a circle. I set the box on the couch, rubbing my temples. Why do I get the impression these two have had a lot more conversations about Becker’s sex life than I’m aware of?

  “Damn it.” Ali tosses her empty box on the couch. “Please tell me we have more salt.”

  She
jogs to the kitchen and I follow, waiting for any instructions and trying not to get in the way.

  “Shhh.” Becker crouches low and pats his hand in the air for us to do the same. “They’re coming.”

  “Unlike you, wolf,” Ali murmurs out of the side of her mouth.

  A salt box comes sailing over the counter and bops Ali on the head. “Ow.” She glares at me. “If he lives through this, I’m going to kill him.”

  Keeping low to the ground, Becker joins us in the kitchen. Gun drawn.

  Ali rolls her eyes. “You don’t bring a gun to a magic fight.”

  Becker ignores her. “ETA ten minutes.”

  “Their location doesn’t mean anything,” Ali corrects him, and to reinforce her point the wind picks up. “Pregnant witch, remember?”

  It’s slow at first, a crisp rattle of dead leaves against the wood of the house. It morphs into a whoosh between the tree trunks and then a roar. The screens rattle. The frame of the house groans against the pressure.

  “Get into the salt circle!” Ali yells.

  We all crawl to the center of the living room, careful not to disturb the line as we each get inside. The now loose screens bang against the windows, one, two, three and fly off. The front door moans, creaks, cracks, and snaps in two as it’s sucked outward.

  Becker covers his ears, his eyes squinting against some phantom pain. “Shit.”

  Ali pushes me into Becker. “You got to do your pack thing. Here straddle him from behind.” I do as she says and she swings her leg over his and sits on his lap. She covers his ears with her palms, chanting. “It’s a spell like a dog whistle,” she explains between chants. “It’s using the vibrations from the wind, and since there’s three of them and one pregnant, the salt won’t protect him. They’re trying to blow his eardrums out.” She gives Becker a little shake. “They can’t keep up. Stay with me for two more minutes, okay?”

  Becker nods. Ali continues chanting. I squeeze him harder from behind.