Big Bad Becker: (An Outlier Prophecies Novella) (The Outlier Prophecies)

by Tina Gower

  What was her name? Abby? Andy? It left his memory in an instant, no matter how many times she told him.

  “I warded her door because she pissed off a witch," she said. "It’s weak. If someone comes in uninvited it’s a problem, but if she invites them in they can slip past. If you’d knocked, you would've been fine.”

  He imagined knocking and walking through the ward as his eyes swelled shut. Surely she realized.

  He glared. “I can’t handle magic. As you probably knew.”

  She smirked. “Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t. I certainly didn’t expect to be driving to work and get a tap on my shoulder to let me know someone was attempting to get past my ward uninvited.”

  He gritted his teeth. “Look, I got some information about a case and I had to come over and warn her.”

  Kate’s cousin made a big scene of opening her eyes wide, putting one hand over her brow, and searching the street. “Oh, so the fire truck and ambulance and police back up should be here any minute then, right?”

  “Don’t be a jerk.” His shoulders fell.

  “Because if it were an emergency, then those people would be here. Not a lone wolf climbing the tree outside her window.”

  Damn. She had a way of making the truth dig into his side like an arrow.

  He frowned. “Don’t you have to get to work?”

  “Yes, but…” She rubbed her forehead. “Come down, okay? I’ll loosen the wards.”

  “No.” It came out harsher than he’d intended. He swayed, nearly losing his balance. “It’s better to keep the security tight.” Especially if it kept him from showing up unexpected. Maybe she’d even ward the window now that she knew. That would be ideal. He’d be forced to find a new pack. It would be best for everyone.

  She eyed the window, eyed him. “Whatever, Becker, I don’t have time for this. Just be sure to wear a condom.”

  “That isn’t…I’m not…” He sputtered. The blood drained and then flushed back into his neck and face with painful pressure.

  She laughed as she walked away, not even turning around to hear him out. Gods, she was annoying. Her car sped out of the parking lot. Gone.

  He judged the distance. Two more branches. And at this point there was no turning back. Kate’s cousin would tell on him, so she’d know either way he was hanging around outside her bedroom window like a creeper. Might as well finish the job. He rubbed his palms together and made easy work of it.

  Her window wasn’t locked. Oddly, that didn’t bring him any relief. It meant that any asshole could climb a tree and get into her room. It meant he could get into her room, and that she hadn't done anything to stop him. She hadn't done anything to keep him from digging this hole deeper. Yeah, that wasn’t quite fair, since he hadn't told her what she’d started. He probably wasn’t going to clarify her mistake either. Selfish. Yep, best to admit that right now. And he was a jerk for even thinking any of this was her fault in any way.

  Not because he was attracted to her. He wasn’t. Okay, a lie. He could smell her attraction to him, too, but guess what? A lot of women were attracted to him. And not just him, but other men too. That was a little detail of human nature he’d rather keep to himself.

  Being adopted, he hadn't known what any of it meant until Ben and Marco sat him down and gave him the talk. Werewolf sex 101. Wolves mated for life, and there was a little bit of that DNA mixed in to werewolves. Sex to wolves had no emotional attachment until they found a mate, so he should live it up now. Both men had chuckled like this would be a good development for Ian’s life in general.

  Most wolves also didn’t care if a person was male or female; they were usually up for anyone and anything. It explained a lot, really. Werewolves had a certain reputation as far as sexual relationships and promiscuity were concerned. Honestly, that’s where a lot of his hang ups had started. He hadn’t functioned like a normal wolf from the beginning. He’d had an extra dose of anxiety, an extra craving for pack, difficulty controlling his emotions.

  After he'd figured that out, it hadn’t concerned him much that humans and other creatures went around putting people in a yep and nope pile. So he and Kate were in each other’s yep pile. It didn’t matter that he rarely put anyone in his after his pack had been killed. Heck, the one person he'd ever slept with hadn’t even been in his yep pile, and that hadn't exactly gone well for either party involved. More importantly, he’d promised Kate this situation wouldn’t become sexual and he had every intention of keeping his word. So Kate could be in the yep pile all she wanted, but she was a big fat nope anyway.

  He slid the window open wide. He’d need all the space to get his lumbering body through. He spotted the lump and twist of sheets that was Kate and considered calling out her name, getting her attention, letting her know about the issue and then scampering down the tree and back to safety.

  But nope. He crawled inside. He could smell her; the whiff of coconut and vanilla called to him like a siren. His eyes were probably doing that spiral thing like in cartoons when someone was under hypnosis. He even shuffled, one step, two.

  This was the worst idea he’d ever had.

  His hair stood on end along his arm and neck. Her scent was all wrong. The sounds in the room didn’t match up. He palmed the knife he kept in a sheath under his armpit.

  “Kate?” He whispered to the lump on the bed. The unmoving, unbreathing, utterly soundless lump.

  The lights flipped on, blinding him. He covered his face, squinting against the flash of pain that shot down his optic nerve. He couldn’t switch from night vision to normal light that quickly. “Shit! Kate!”

  She turned the lights back off. “Oh Gods! I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

  “Someone else?” he blinked, getting his vision back in focus. The idea of ‘someone else’ made an unwelcome flush of territorial instinct creep into his chest—great. He balled his hands into fists, grit his jaw. Chanted positive affirmations to himself to get it together. Hells, she wasn’t his girlfriend.

  “Well…” she gestured to the open window. “What am I supposed to do when I hear scraping outside my window? Assume it’s you? I meant I thought it was a burglar. Someone…not you.” She shook the bat at her side for emphasis.

  Oh.

  Heh. He took in a breath to steady himself, trying not to laugh. “So it’s okay for me? You should have used the bat. Me or not me, you swing like you mean it. Don’t wait for a home invader to explain themselves. And don’t give them a chance to spot you first.”

  “But then I would've hit you!” She tossed the bat back into her closet. “Besides, you’re not a burglar. And you wouldn’t hurt me.”

  She said it with complete confidence, that’s what worried him. “A guy, someone you barely know, just crawled through your window, Kate. You have permission to whack me good next time.” He frowned. No. No next time. He shook his head. What was he thinking?

  She didn’t notice his slip. “But I do know you. And not just barely.” She crawled back into her bed and pulled the sheets up. “I’m too tired for this. Can we have a surprise self-defense lesson some other time?”

  Numb lips, inability to speak, heart racing. Shock. He was in shock. That would explain why he couldn’t move. Forward or backward. In or out.

  Kate groaned. Flopped onto her back and then her side. “Really? You come all this way just to watch me sleep? Is this a werewolf thing I need to be aware of?”

  “Uh, no…”

  “Then get over here.”

  “I didn’t come here to disturb you. I—”

  “I haven’t slept all night. I’ve just been tossing and turning. You showing up through my window is just the cream on top. One of us might as well not be miserable. Get over here and do your pack thing.”

  “I didn’t—”

  She grit her teeth and let out a muffled growl. “Get. In. The. Bed. Becker.”

  It was the way she said Becker that did it. She said his last name as if it meant something more. The authoritati
ve tone. Her hair streaming out and her eyes twitching like she’d gone a little crazy since the last time he’d seen her. He thought if he didn’t get into the bed with her he might go a little crazy too.

  He scratched his chest, his fingers brushing against the buttons of his shirt. He nearly went ahead and took it off. Nearly. But he wasn’t that far gone.

  Yet.

  Kate huffed and turned away from him, and he sat on the edge of the bed and observed her for a minute. Slight whiffs of cortisol. Heartbeat fast, breathing shallow. He made her nervous.

  She glared at him over her shoulder. “Well?”

  He kicked off his boots, not bothering to hide his grin this time. He wondered if she knew her body had tattled to him. For some reason, she didn’t want him to know how anxious she was over it all. But he was too weak to deal with it. He stayed above the covers, just like they’d done the last time, letting the thickness of the comforter be the gauge of the distance between them. His arm tentatively curled around her. He leaned up and caught her gaze to make sure she was fine with the contact. She smiled, so he carefully lay down, a millimeter closer than before. Even that light touch loosened the dull pounding in the back of his skull. And the all-over tightness eased, too.

  He held his breath, closing his eyes to assess Kate. More than anything, he didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable. Well, no more than she already did. He didn’t want her to feel pressured. He didn’t want her to think that because she had said yes once that she’d have to say yes every time. He never wanted her to know how amazing he felt after, because then she’d naturally feel responsible for his health—or lack of it.

  He didn’t want any of that, but he did want this. He’d quickly become addicted to the feel of her. The soft sigh she emitted when his arm tugged her close. The content grin on her face after she fell asleep. That moment after the awkwardness melted away. When she let her guard down and he would pretend to sleep and watch her as she’d fade away. Then he could allow himself to relax.

  He knew the moment she was gone. The muscles in her forehead relaxed and her neck dipped heavier into the pillow. His eyelids turned into sandbags, falling in heavy blinks. He twitched awake, not wanting to be here when she needed to get ready for work. He set his phone alarm for an hour. That should give him enough time to take the edge off.

  Kate wiggled in her sleep, shoving her comforter away from her body. His bare arm touched hers. A tingle shot straight down his spine. He pulled away, unsure if she’d be okay with his skin touching hers.

  “Hey.” He tapped her shoulder, careful to only touch where her tank top covered her. “Kate?”

  She didn’t answer. He didn’t have permission to touch her skin. He shouldn’t. It felt so good, it had to be wrong. He sat up. Should he leave? Cut it short here?

  She'd shoved the comforter away because she was hot. Ian's temperature normally fluctuated wildly—part of the problem with being a lone wolf. He'd gotten used to the hot and cold sweats, but now that he’d found a pack again, his temperature would return to normal. Normal being slightly hotter than an average human. Too hot for Kate.

  She kicked off the comforter. Despite the freezing temperatures outside, she was only wearing thin shorts and the tank top. How could she wear something so…

  He ran a shaking hand through his hair. Shit. This wasn’t going to work. He moved to scoot off the bed, but she shivered and reached out, finding his leg and draping herself across him.

  No. Kate would not be okay with this. He moved her hand, which had drifted a little lower than he liked. Or maybe he liked it too much. He searched for a sheet to pull between them like a barrier, a wall, something—anything that would reestablish that careful line they’d drawn. She swung her leg over his and their lower bodies tangled for a moment while he attempted to straighten to something less, uh, sordid.

  The first two times (okay, three) he’d slept with her, she'd kept to her side. He'd never thought she would drop her guard this quickly. Obviously, she was more accepting of the arrangement than him.

  “Kate?” He tried again.

  She sniffed, scrunching her nose with her eyes closed, like a mole poking out of its hole. “Seriously, Becker? I’m finally able to sleep.”

  “But are you okay with—”

  “If I’m asleep, assume I’m okay.”

  “But—”

  “No. Sleep.” She curled around him, hugging him closer like her own personal teddy bear.

  He waited a beat.

  “Uh, okay.”

  It wasn’t until just before he faded for the second time that he remembered he’d meant to warn her about the coin Wu had found.

  He’d just have to protect and watch her until he had a chance to tell her. It was the least he could do.

  Chapter 3

  Ian spent the next day hiking up Angel’s wing and dangling his legs over the edge while he lay back and stared at the tree tops. Gods, he was lucky to live a few miles from nature. His house was conveniently located at the base of Angel’s Peak Park—one of the largest reserves in the nation. A total sanity check, and he could fill his lungs with air that hadn’t been recycled through so many other creature’s lungs. He measured the beat of his heart against bird chirps and then reluctantly headed down the path to get ready for work.

  He bought sushi from a Japanese selkie restaurant a few blocks away, ate, and set himself up for a quick nap in the break room. Except he couldn’t sleep. Not at all tired. Another benefit of pack. But his co-workers expected him to sleep here, so he had to keep up the pretense. Mostly, he didn’t want to deal with anyone yet.

  He kept his hat over his eyes, just so the others wouldn’t bother him. Not that it worked.

  “Beck. Hey, Beck. Check this out.” Hank Lipski jiggled Ian’s legs.

  “I’m sleeping. This is where I sleep.”

  “Oh, come on, nobody believes that anymore.” Hank Lipski--half troll, half gremlin, one hundred percent annoying with his ability to speak the truth at the exact wrong time, but Ian’s loyal partner none the less. “I know you’ve been resting those copper locks somewhere super secret the last few days.” The guy parked his semi-truck-like body on the couch and the whole thing dipped under the pressure. “Come on, you can tell Uncle Hank. Did you finally get laid?”

  “Fuck you.”

  “No.” He grinned wide. “That would be a fuck you, my friend. So?”

  “So? I thought you had something to show me.”

  Lipski crossed his arms. “Well, now you’ve got me curious. Where have you been, partner?”

  He shrugged. “Around. Extra shifts. The usual.” He tipped his hat back over his eye and proceeded to ignore Lipski. Sometimes it worked.

  Sometimes.

  This was apparently not one of those times.

  “You owe me,” Lipski punched his arm, and he shrugged it away. “Especially after you went off on your own for that Jack Roberts case and didn’t bring me in on the action.”

  Ian huffed and attempted to settle back into the lumpy couch cushions. He hadn't called because he'd been afraid Lipski would see Ian was at his breaking point and pull him out before he could finish the case. He couldn’t do that to Kate. Not after he’d put her in an awkward position by taking the case for himself rather than sending it to Homicide. She would have dealt with much harsher consequences had they not been allowed to solve it. With the case successfully solved, they'd been able to bargain down the reprimands. Risky, but worth it.

  And he was now one step closer to whoever murdered his pack. There was some relation, he could feel it.

  Lipski moved farther down the couch, pressing his butt into Ian’s side forcing him to sit up. “Damn it, Lipski. I’m tired. I want to sleep.”

  “Gods, Beck. You’re not fooling anyone.” He glanced around the empty room. “Not me, anyway. Come on, I know you better than you know yourself.”

  “Fuck you,” he growled again.

  “No thanks. I have a wife.” Lipski scooted closer
, squinting and doing the hat-to-boots inspection on Ian. “You look amazing.”

  “You saying I looked like shit until today? This kind of flattery work on Angela?”

  He chuckled. “You look rested. Those black circles under your eyes? Gone. That sickly pale skin tone? Gone. You know I grew up in the country. My best friends were wolves—”

  “This is how racist jokes start—”

  “All I’m saying is that you can’t hide it from me. You’re either with a pack, which is pretty unlikely, or you’re sleeping with someone.” He scanned the office though the large window overlooking the workstations. “So who is it?”

  Ian narrows his eyes at Lipski. Did he seriously believe—

  “Well?”

  “I’m not sleeping with anyone.” He jumped off the couch, grabbing his trash and shuffling past his partner to the men's locker room, where he could hide his embarrassment. His stomach did that dip and twist gymnast routine on him.

  Lipski followed him. “Oh, look how red that little denial made you. Confession is good for the soul. Let it out, kid.”

  Ian slammed his locker open and tossed his uniform onto the bench. Unbuttoned each of his buttons with the same force he’d use if he could punch Lipski’s mouth shut.

  “Silent treatment, eh? All right. I’ll wear you down eventually. I only need to know for parental reporting reasons. You should answer the phone when your dads call you. They’re worried.”

  He blew out a breath. Anger fading into guilt. “I was on a case.”

  “They just want to know if you’re breathing.” He rolled his eyes, but his voice went softer, calming Ian. It worked. Because of Kate, it worked. “I suggest calling and at least letting them hear that.”

  Ian’s lips twitched, threatening a smile. And like that, Lipski had changed the tone of the conversation. “Can species without enhanced hearing hear someone breathing? Over the phone?”

  Lipski opened his locker and pulled out his crisply-kept uniform, watching Ian carefully. From his body language, it was clear he’d noticed Ian calming himself faster than usual. “Angela assures me they can if you do it hard enough. You have to get right up into the speaker. But it's not the same. They can’t hear the heartbeat.”