The Werewolf Coefficient (The Outlier Prophecies Book 3)

by Tina Gower

  Becker swings a chair clumsily in front of him, gets off balance and stumbles. He catches himself on the edge of a table. A woman reaches to help him up, but he waves her off. She bites her lips and hovers near. She must be the werewolf Becker had been meeting with.

  Her long chestnut hair that covers one half of her face has the slightest wave. She has a small athletic build. I can see her ab muscles through her tank top and her shoulders have major definition. Her skin is slightly darker than mine. She looks a mix Middle Eastern, Indian, and something else. Light bone structure of something Fae, but the face shape is more oval like a leprechaun or a brownie.

  The bartender is standing up on a stool behind the bar. “No fighting in here. You gotta leave. Get out. I mean it. I’m calling the cops.” He dials on an old-fashioned rotary phone.

  Nobody pays attention to him. Lipski heads off the bar keep. Good.

  Becker’s eyes are fully golden. Not a good sign. The woman runs her hands down his arm. He squeezes his eyes shut and sways. I see red.

  A shorter human man, shorter than me, around five foot, tosses a tin of peanuts at Becker. It bounces off his chest and his eyes snap open like the waking of a sleeping giant.

  He narrows his eyes at the little jerk. “I thought I told you to get lost.” He steps forward, lunging, tipping, righting himself. He shakes his head as though he’s seeing double. He swings an arm out that barely misses the man only because the man has the advantage of seemingly being sober. “The lady said to leave her alone.” He shifts his feet, crouching as though he’s going to attack.

  I rush forward. “Becker. Stop.”

  He straightens, twisting around to find where my voice came from. When he sees me he tumbles into the chair sideways. He holds up his finger to keep back as though I was going to help him. Right. Like I’d get between him and any object while he’s like this.

  The man circles and spits. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He smartly walks away.

  Becker follows him with his gaze and makes like he’s going to heave himself up and finish whatever was just happening.

  The woman bends down at his side, placing a stilling hand on the nook of his elbow. “Ian, we should go somewhere quieter.”

  Becker blinks at her hand, then looks into her face for a long stare, his opponent forgotten.

  The crowd peters out as the excitement wanes. A few hang-ons lurk a few feet away.

  I prop Becker more upright and glare at her. “He’s not going anywhere with you.”

  She meets my glare with her own nastier version. Her lip curls up to show a hint of canine teeth. “This is pack business.”

  I raise her snarl with a protective arm around Becker. “Becker is my business. Back. Off.”

  Lipski reaches in between us and grabs Becker’s arm, swinging him forward off the chair and onto his feet. He secures Becker’s arm behind his neck. “That’s enough, ladies. We can continue this after Becker’s slept this mistake off.”

  The woman follows behind us. “I’m not done talking with him.”

  Lipski tests a few steps and Becker weaves from side to side. I move over to the other hip to keep him stable. He curls into me, wrapping his arm around my waist and laying his head on mine.

  “Kate.” He sniffs in one long inhale, his eyelids droop. Tequila wafts off his pores like he’s taken a bath in the stuff.

  The woman presses against me smelling, her expression changes to confusion. “Who are you? Where are you taking him?”

  I don’t know what to say, how much information Becker would want me to divulge, but I can’t help but stake a claim. “It’s pack business.”

  The words cause her entire posture to ease. She jogs alongside me. Her tone switches from demanding to begging. “Please, I have to see him again. It’s important. When he wakes up tell him to call me.”

  Her switch from naughty to nice leaves an opening where I channel my anger. “What exactly were you trying to do? Get him drunk so you could get him to agree to anything?”

  She bites her lip. “No. That’s not what…I didn’t know he’d—Werewolves don’t usually have that much of a reaction to alcohol.”

  Lipski unlocks the car as we approach. I manage the handle and leave Lipski to deal with the acrobatics of folding a half-sleeping Becker into the car.

  I turn back to the woman. “Yeah, well, Becker isn’t most werewolves.”

  “I...” She swipes her hair from her face, stuttering. “I know. Believe me, I know.”

  “Now you know, you mean.”

  Lipski whistles at me to get into the car. It rumbles to life.

  Becker bangs on the back window, not with a lot of force, just a whack, whack that loses momentum with each swing. He gives up and lays a cheek against the glass.

  I take that as my signal to leave and hop in the car. The woman watches us as we pull away.

  “I gotta say something to Dalia,” Becker slurs from the back seat. “Roll down the window.”

  “You’re drunk, Beck. Time to sleep it off and then when you’re thinking clearly we’ll see about it.”

  Becker shakes his head from side to side. “I’m not drunk.”

  I rest my forehead against the passenger window, keeping my eyes on the road. “Where are we going to take him?”

  Becker protests in the back seat. “I need to go back. Dalia and I weren’t done talking.”

  Lipski presses his mouth from one side of his face to the other, considering. “I can’t take him to my place. Angela will kill me. It’s supposed to be our date night.”

  “We can’t take him home where he’ll be alone. He needs someone to watch him.”

  Lipski gives me the side-eye.

  “Fine.” I jerk back into my seat. “I’ll take him.”

  “I. Need. To. Talk. To. Dalia. Give me my phone back.”

  “You hush back there or I’ll call your dads to come take care of you.” Becker goes quiet. Lipski laughs, addressing me, “One of his dads is a nurse and the other one is a counselor. They love nothing more than taking care of their little wolf. The model example of doting parents. Ain’t that right Beck? They’d probably love to meet Katie here.” Becker slinks low into his seat. Lipski slips Becker’s phone to me. “Keep this close. He’s going to pass out in about ten, twenty minutes and stay that way for the next twenty-four hours and I’d like him to land in a bed.”

  “I’m not drunk,” Becker says, this time, eyes closed and curled up on the back seat like a cat in a sunbeam.

  Lipski watches him through the rearview mirror. “You’re going to sleep this off at Hale’s house, Beck.”

  He snaps awake, clumsily sitting up in the seat. “No. I can’t go there. I’m too drunk.” He tests the handles as though he’s going to attempt an escape.

  “You’re in the cage, Becker. Those handles don’t work,” Lipski reminds him. He shoots me a look that says can-you-believe-what-I-put-up-with.

  I twist around. “It’s fine, Becker. Don’t worry about it.”

  He laces his fingers though the metal, moving his face close to mine. “I’m really drunk, Kate. Really. Drunk. Really bad idea to be alone with me.” He swallows. “Really.” He releases his death grip on the metal chain mesh and falls back into the seat, his eyes glassy.

  Lipski shakes his head. “You’ll be safe. Becker would never hurt you—”

  “That’s not what I’m worried about,” Becker mumbles from the back.

  “You said he’s going to pass out, right? Anything else I should know?”

  “He’s done this a few times. Not anytime recently, mind you, but he’ll pass out for about twenty-four to thirty-six hours depending on how much he threw back. When he wakes up you need to make some eggs, or sausage, something with protein, or have a bucket ready.”

  “A bucket.”

  “That’s if you don’t have protein ready in a timely manner. Believe me, Angela figured that one out quick. Thank gods you’re around now. I thought Becker’s binges were going to mak
e her demand a divorce. He’s like a fifth teenager.”

  “Wait, you have kids?”

  “Most of them out of the house. Four girls.” He taps the glove box.

  I open it up and find four pocket-sized school photos of gremlin-troll-angels. “You look too young to have teenagers.”

  “It’s those good troll genes. Angels age slower, too. Angela and I are the perfect pair. Oracle predicted, of course. Angela wants to try for a boy. I think it’s just the threat of an empty nest making her want it. She keeps threatening to go to a conception oracle.”

  I close the glove box, betting Lipski will give in to his wife. The way he talks about her, it’s like she’s the only thing that matters. Angela must be a saint to put up with him. Heck, I went from hating his guts to not knowing what I’d do without him in less than an hour.

  Becker bangs on the metal cage. “I wanna talk to Dalia. It’s important.”

  I cross my arms, not wanting the hint of jealousy that creeps inside me. If I hadn’t pushed Becker away the last few months he wouldn’t have reconsidered the Turmoil offer. He probably had no clue when I’d pull away again. He needed someone consistent. I had to commit to this and let him know I’d see it through.

  We pull up to the stairway to my apartment and Lipski runs around to unlock Becker from the back. I jog up the steps to unlock my door and back down to help guide Becker up the stairs. He hugs the railing to his side. Lipski keeps him propped with an arm over his shoulder. Becker swings around to glare at the apartment across the way where Howard lives. Lights out, no open curtains, he seems satisfied and twists back around to finish the stairs, but loses his balance after the little maneuver. We reach the top. Becker separates from Lipski, pushing him away, and stumbles to Ali’s apartment.

  “No, Becker, I live over here.”

  He bangs on her door. “Hey. Open up. Get out here…witch person.”

  “Ali. My cousin’s name is Ali.”

  He bangs again. “Ali, gods damn it. Get your butt—”

  She swings the door open.

  Becker half stumbles back. Lipski catches him before he falls.

  Ali sniffs and covers her nose. “Goddess, did you drink the distillery? Holy hells—” She’s cut off when Becker wraps his arms around her in a bear hug.

  “He’s drunk,” I explain.

  She arches her eyebrow at me. “You know, I think I like Becker when he’s had a few.”

  He leans on Ali, using his hands on both her shoulders to stabilize. “Please come over. Come stay with Kate.”

  “Whoa, buddy.” Lipski nudges him to continue moving toward my apartment. “You’re not going to have the stamina for a threesome.”

  He shoots Lipski a nasty look. “Shut up. This is for Kate. I like Kate, but she doesn’t like me.”

  “I like you, Becker.” I know he’s drunk, but his words shoot straight to my heart and cause a painful thump.

  He wipes his hands over his face, shaking his head. Lipski manages to get him moving forward.

  “No.” He stops Lipski. “I like you, Kate. Like you, like you. Like, like.” His word slur as he repeats like over and over until it starts to sound like love.

  My stomach dips at his raw admission. I hide my eyes from the others, so they don’t see how this news affects me. Becker and I have to talk. We definitely need to settle this between us.

  Lipski lets out an amused laugh. “All right, Beck. That’s enough. Let’s get you settled.”

  In my apartment, Lipski guides Becker to the bathroom. “Pee first, cause if you piss all over Kate’s closet like you did mine the first time we brought you home, she won’t be as nice as we were and invite you back.”

  “Pee first.” Becker nods in agreement.

  The two huge men don’t quite fit in my bathroom, so the door stays open and Ali and I are treated to the zip and whoosh sounds of Becker emptying his bladder.

  Ali whispers in my ear. “What are we supposed to do with him?”

  I shrug. “I guess he’s going to pass out for the next day and then when he wakes up he’ll need protein right away.”

  She taps her front teeth. “Protein, right. I know just the thing. I’ll be back in a half hour.”

  “Actually, wait—”

  She’s gone before I can catch her. I hope whatever she’s making she’s back soon. Maybe Becker had the right idea of us having a babysitter.

  The bathroom door flies open and bangs against my wall. Becker unhooks himself from Lipski and makes like he’s going to crawl onto my bed.

  Lipski catches him by the waist. “Hold up there, Beck. Your spot’s on the couch. This is Kate’s bed.”

  Becker turns, shows teeth, and lets out a slurred growl, opening his arms wide and caressing my duvet. Then collapses half-on, half-off my bed as if to decide the debate.

  “I can put him in a fireman hold and try to move him.”

  I rub my temples. “It’s fine. You’ve been a huge help. Go home and spend some time with Angela before the night’s over.”

  “All right, if you’re sure.”

  I’m not sure, but Lipski is out the door before I can change my mind. He locks it before he leaves.

  I stare at the lump on my bed that is Becker.

  He snorts, jerking himself awake. “Kate.” He clutches the bed like he caught himself from falling off a cliff.

  I kneel down beside him. “I’m right here.”

  “Stay with me, until I fall asleep. I promise I’ll go home and I won’t bother you again. I won’t be a burden any longer. I promise.”

  “That’s not what I want. I don’t mind being your substitute pack.”

  “There. Right there. Substitute. It’s temporary for you. It’s not…not that easy for me—”

  “Becker…”

  “Let me do the right thing for you. I’ll go to Turmoil. Try again.”

  “I can’t let you do that. It’s not what you want. And because I like you too, Becker. I like you, like you.” I repeat his words from before, going for light and funny, but failing miserably when my attempted grin becomes a serious moment where I stare him down as if it will bore my intent into his psyche.

  I’ve accepted this isn’t temporary anymore. I’m okay with it. I want Becker to know it too. I can say it all I want, but I have to show him so it will sink into his stubborn werewolf skull.

  He must see something, some invitation in my expression because he scoots toward me, using his long muscular arm to scoop me next to him. It takes a moment of coordination between where I want to go and where he thinks I should go. After a struggle, we wind up with him spooning me, nearly on top of me. I shove, pushing back, to get some space before he passes out on top of me.

  He folds my arms into my chest and whispers into my ear. “Stop. You’re making the room spin.” His breath still smells like spring break.

  “I can’t breathe, Becker, and you smell awful.”

  He breathes in deep. “No, you smell good.”

  I press my lips together. Reasoning with him now might be futile, but I’m up for some punishment, considering it might be my last opportunity before he’s out for the next day.

  He lightly runs his fingers along my forehead, pulling the hair from my eyes and hooking it behind my ear. The backs of his fingers graze my jaw line. My neck. “This is nice. Here with you. You smell like home, Kate.” He rubs his nose along my shoulder. His teeth lightly scraping.

  I close my eyes, a tingle of sensation spreading through my body.

  I swallow, doing my best to ignore the urge to reciprocate his intimate touch. I don’t want to take advantage of him while he’s unaware.

  Instead I direct the conversation back to what’s bothering me. “What were you doing? Meeting with the Turmoil representative alone.”

  “Had to get her out of the station. I didn’t want anyone to know my weakness.”

  “But it was risky. She could have been collecting samples. You know what they want you for.”

  “B
reeding.”

  I heave out a sigh. “Yes.”

  “With Dalia.”

  My jealousy flares back like an old injury. Her? They sent her to see if she could sway him, seduce him. I’m glad Becker can’t see my face because I’m sure I’m puckering like I’ve just sucked a lemon. Then another thought distracts me. Lipski said Becker got all quiet when they brought her in—did he want her? Did he like what he saw? Was the private meeting more than he was saying?

  Becker shakes behind me and then erupts into giggles, then full out laughter.

  “What? What’s so funny?”

  “Dalia. Oh gods.”

  So she’s funny too. Great. I’m not funny. I’m a math nerd.

  He laughs harder. “It’s Dalia.”

  “Shut up, Becker.” I glance at the red glowing clock numbers. It’s 8:06 p.m. Didn’t Lipski say he’d pass out soon? I suddenly wanted him to stop saying her name while lying in my bed.

  He rolls over onto his back, covering his face, in uncontrollable shaking, laughter.

  I push myself up off the bed. “That’s it. I’m going to check on Ali.”

  He snatches my shirt. His other arm works as a dead weight to flatten me against the bed. “Shhh, calm down.”

  “Calm down? Calm down?” Hells, he should know to never tell me to calm down. I hold all my air in until my sinuses feel like they’re about to pop. Somewhere I manage an even tone. “All right. If you want her. I’ll give you your phone so she can do this pack thing with you instead of me.”

  He scoffs. “I hardly know her.”

  “You hardly knew me a few months ago.”

  He’s quiet. Not a peep. I shift around to see if he’s finally out. No deal. His eyes are half open, shiny with unfocused, dilated pupils.

  I poke him. “You want me to call her?” I swallow, knowing this might be the best thing for him if I let him go. He needs to be with people like him. Even his cupid’s note, the one Yin printed up for me a few months ago said he should be with another werewolf. I have no fate. No destiny. There is nothing for him with me but a huge question mark. Meshing our fates could lead him to danger. Or not. Happiness. Or not.