Somewhere within the wolf’s body, Killian’s human self recognized the pleading tone. The subtle fear-scent was taunting his wolf, and somehow, that made Zayden all the more appealing. He could tell Zayden just wanted to submit—as he very well should—but was his friend scared for himself or for Killian, caught up as he was in the werewolf’s instincts and moon-madness?

Saliva pooled in Killian’s mouth as his eyes took in Zayden’s trembling form, the rapid throbbing of his pulse at his throat. That human heartbeat would taste so bittersweet . . .

“Killian, come on, mate. You know you don’t want to hurt me.” The bass guitarist’s voice was still a whisper, but now it had a pleading, almost desperate tone. There was terror there too, and it was that more than anything else that snapped Killian’s 'wolf instincts and brought his human mind out from under the moon-fever.

Zayden tensed when the lupine before him suddenly halted, a shudder running through its body. Then a very familiar voice said, <Zayden?> That was Killian’s voice . . . but Zayden was hearing it inside his head. Not wanting to believe it, he breathed, “Killian? Please tell me I’m not off my rocker.”

<No, you're not.> There was a hint of dry humor in the werewolf’s thought-speak voice. <And before you ask, yes, I've always been able to use thought-speak, but it only works when I'm morphed. And I can choose who to send it to. There are limits just like normal speaking too. Besides, considering I'm a mythological monster . . .> He shrugged, a gesture that looked very weird on a wolf. <What did you expect?>

“Something that’s not out of an episode of The Twilight Zone,” Zayden snapped. Fear was slowly being overtaken by anger. “You were about to eat me!”

The anger in Zayden’s voice was aggravating Killian’s wolf aggression. The lupine growled, his teeth suddenly looking deadly sharp. <How many times have I told you it’s difficult to fight the full moon? And in case you hadn't noticed, Zayden>—his mental voice had turned sarcastic and bitter—<my life is something out of a Twilight Zone episode.>

“Just change back.” Neither of them had counted on the break in Zayden’s voice. For the first time, both Killian and his wolf sensed something vulnerable in the bass player. The animal in the singer, being an alpha, seemed almost amused. Of course, it seemed to say. He should be scared of us. It’s only right. When Killian protested, saying that this was Zayden, their packmate, it only gave a low growl, almost as if it was laughing. This is what an alpha can do, it told Killian’s human side as it reached out toward Zayden, imposing its will on the bassist, forcing him to slide down the wall. The next thing Killian knew, he was shifting back into human form: lupine strength melted away from marrow and muscle; fur shriveled back into his pores; his spine and pelvis cracked as they adjusted to an upright position; his vision—which was ten times better and had a slight reddish tint in lupine form—returned to normal, or as normal as it was in his human form. When he finished, his jeans were little more than cutoff shorts and his shoes and socks had been shredded. Zayden wordlessly handed him his shirt and jacket, clearly uncomfortable.

Without quite knowing what he was doing, Killian crouched beside Zayden, his right hand brushing the mass of brown curls back over Zayden’s shoulder, exposing the man’s neck.

“What are you doing?”

Zayden heard the words leave his mouth, but all he could think about was how close Killian was—how close he’d come to either killing him or turning him—and the heat of the singer’s body. His pulse sped up and his breath hitched in his throat when the werewolf leaned in even closer, inhaled his scent. It took all he had not to . . .

To . . . submit.

Killian had always had that effect on him, he suspected. Rogue had originally been Zayden’s band, but when Killian was let into the group, he’d taken control almost effortlessly—because of his more bestial nature, probably. The thing was, though, that Zayden actually kind of liked the feeling. He was perfectly content just to let Killian take over, because he was the alpha of their little pack and it was his job.

That was another problem. Since when did “Killian’s the alpha and, apparently, the rest of us are submissive” turn into “Killian’s my dominant and I’m submissive and that’s good”? It did at some point; Zayden wasn’t exactly sure when, but right now, none of that mattered. He tilted his head to the side, offering a little more of his throat. Briefly Zayden thought, What the hell am I doing? Then the thought was swept aside, because, really, he felt . . . comfortable in this current position.

“Just trust me,” Killian whispered, a hint of a growl in his voice. It was clear to Zayden that the moon was affecting the vocalist—and yeah, maybe it was affecting him, too. And Zayden was so screwed, because he didn’t want it any other way. Not the bite, but just the feeling that this was so right, being so close to Killian, his warm breath wafting across his neck. Then he felt icy coldness as the werewolf pressed his fangs to the skin on Zayden’s throat. They just rested there, not breaking the skin, not even trying to go deeper.

“Killian, what—”

The low growl cut him off. “Do you have any idea what you do to us?” One of Killian’s hands fisted tightly in Zayden’s hair, and the bassist gasped. “Because when you’re like this, you’re one of the most beautiful things we’ve ever seen.” His fangs traced the outline of Zayden’s pulse, and he tensed.

“Relax. I’m not going to turn you.”

“Then what are you doing?”

“If another wolf or alpha tries to take you, they won’t be able to make you part of their pack. You’re mine, Zayden.” With that, Killian’s fangs sank into Zayden’s neck, deep enough to draw blood, deep enough to mark.

 Zayden gasped with pain, wanting to throw Killian off, but not doing anything, all the while fighting the urge to encourage the bite to go deeper, to lean into his alpha. That just wasn’t something he was comfortable with. The whole scene felt surreal, actually, like something out of a movie or Twilight Zone episode. Then again, Killian was a werewolf and they had been making comparisons to the Rod Sterling television series only a couple minutes ago.

Killian’s head lifted from Zayden’s neck, and he watched as the skin knit itself back together. A very-confused Zayden wiped at his neck, catching any lingering traces of red. “What—?”

“Werewolves have miraculous healing properties. That’s not the point. The point is you belong to me. My friend, my beta, my pack.”

Before Zayden could say anything to that, Killian caught a familiar scent and whipped his head toward the door of the club, a warning growl rumbling in his chest. The door opened anyway and out spilled Neil and Shane, laughing about something that made sense only to them. Both of them froze when they heard the low growl and glanced down at Killian and Zayden, noticing just how close the two were.

“We didn’t interrupt anything, did we?” Neil asked, mouth twitching as he fought back a grin.

“You’re one to talk,” Killian snarled, flashing fangs red with Zayden’s blood. Both guitarists gulped at the sight of bloodstained teeth and promptly turned back to the door. It wasn’t long before they were back in the club, and this time, the music was Pat Benatar’s “Shadows of the Night.”

Zayden looked over at Killian. “I don’t suppose you want to explain this to them, do you?”

“No.”

“That’s what I thought. Now help me up, let’s find the others, and try to enjoy what’s left of the night. And please, no more wolf stuff.”

Rogue’s lead singer grinned . . . well, roguishly. “I thought you handled that pretty well.”

“Whatever you say . . . alpha.” Zayden pulled open the door, and once again they were part of the club’s party atmosphere. Before they went their separate ways, Killian leaned over and warned, “If you start singing ‘Can’t Fight This Feeling’, I just might be tempted to tear out your throat.”

“So noted. Now shut up and dance.” Zayden smirked. It wavered, then faded at the odd, predatory gleam in Killian’s eyes. “Uh, Killian?”

The werewolf smiled—with no fangs in sight; Zayden found himself wishing there were, so that infamous dimpled smile would give people something to fear—and quoted a line from a 1984 movie: “You gotta cut loose, footloose—”

“I get it. Just don’t start singing Venom anytime soon.”

Killian pulled a face. “Why would I? Bloody copycats.”

Zayden laughed at that. Killian felt his entire body relax. He closed his eyes, listening to the sounds around him, and just let the music—and Zayden’s closeness—take him away.