Zayden could only watch in a kind of horrified fascination as the blond werewolf turned on their attackers. Claws slashed deep, bloody gashes in chests; jaws that could crack a moose’s skull easily bruised a human throat. The muggers were still breathing: Killian’s wolf wasn’t a killer, because Killian Finnegan wasn’t a killer. He might have a temper, but as far as Zayden knew, Killian had never killed anyone while acting out.

The werewolf raised his head from one of the muggers’ bodies and padded over to Zayden. A soft whine rose in his throat, and he pushed his silken head under Zayden’s hand. It wasn’t long before Zayden was scratching behind Killian’s ears and the wolf’s eyes were slit in pleasure. Of course, if Killian were in human form right now, Zayden highly doubted he would be doing this.

<That feels good, Zayden. Just a little harder, more to the left . . .> Killian’s thought-speak voice was embedded with a satisfied purr. The wolf’s head tilted to the head, following Zayden’s hand, and he finally shook himself briskly. <I needed that.>

“The fight or the scratch?”

<Both.> Killian stiffened and swiveled his ears toward the opening of the service road. <Someone’s coming.> Stiff-legged, hackles raised, the werewolf stepped protectively in front of Zayden, ignoring the withering glare from the bassist scorching into his fur.

“Zayden? Killian? Are you guys all right?”

The werewolf relaxed his fighting stance as the rest of the band came around the corner. It was Shane who had called out, his words already slurred. (Killian wondered briefly how much the man had had to drink.)

“We heard a scream. Are you guys okay?” That was Neil, who stepped up next to Shane. The rhythm guitarist paused when he saw the huge wolf crouched in front of Zayden, then the still forms of the attempted muggers. “Well, that explains why they suddenly stopped.” He shot an accusatory look at Killian. “You didn’t kill them, did you?”

The 'wolf gave an indignant snort. Neil didn’t need a translator to guess what it meant: Oh, please. I have more restraint than what you give me credit for.

“No, he didn’t,” Zayden said. “They’re still breathing. Besides, Killian’s wolf is not a killer because Killian isn’t a cold-blooded killer.”

<You’ve got that right,> Killian said, sending the thought only to Zayden. Now that the threat of danger had passed, his human self would begin to regain dominance over the wolf. Already he could feel lupine strength bleeding away from marrow and muscle. It was only a matter of seconds before he was human again—and naked.

Zayden quickly stripped one of the unconscious men of jeans and shirt and handed the clothes to Killian, who kept his back to the others while he dressed.

“Anyone else ready to hit the sack?” he asked when he was finished, turning back to the rest of the band. “I’m beat.”

Yes, he was tired, but it wasn’t because of the shifting. Having to control his wolf, then his inner turmoil over his feelings for Zayden, not to mention the fact it was half past midnight, was draining him. And since they were touring with Inkubus and had another concert tomorrow, it was best they all received at least a few hours of sleep.

*

Killian tossed and turned restlessly in the hotel bed. Try as hard as he might, he just couldn’t sleep. He felt sweaty, clammy, as if he was running a fever—but the full moon always had that affect on him.

“Killian?” Zayden’s voice whispered through the darkness. Shadows shifted, then condensed to form the bassist’s familiar profile. A twitch ran through the werewolf, causing his legs to jerk restlessly when he realized just how close Zayden was to the edge of his bed.

“What are you—”

“Relax. You can’t sleep, right?” Zayden didn’t wait for an answer. “So I might as well keep you company until you do.”

Oh. Okay, Killian thought groggily. The moon, bright and fat, was clouding his thinking, making it hard to focus on anything.

It was also making him drowsy.

He wasn’t sure how long Zayden sat on the edge of his bed, but as sleep finally claimed him, he thought he felt long, calloused fingers lightly brush across his forehead and the mass of blond curls.

Then Zayden was gone and he knew nothing more.