A gentle breeze swept across the countryside, rustling the leaves in the aspen trees. Silver moonlight illuminated two figures—one stocky and blonde, one lean and brunette—as they walked across the fields. The moon was no longer full, but Killian and Zayden could still feel its influence. Zayden was actually looking feverish. His skin was pale and clammy, and when Killian felt his forehead, it was very warm.

“Killian, why do I feel so ill? It’s not even the full moon,” Zayden whined.

“Your body’s probably still fighting the ’wolf infection. It’s a common reaction in newbloods—even more common in werelings.”

“What is a wereling?” Zayden asked. “You’ve called me that before, but I don’t know what it means.”

“They’re very rare,” Killian informed him, quoting from some ancient text. “A wereling is a silverblood—a resister—whose humanity and compassion prevail in the ’wolf.”

Zayden took that to mean that when the change was on him, he could hold on to the screaming human part of him that hated what he’d become.

Killian wasn’t quite finished. “Pureblood hardliners see them as a threat to the pack, while others see werelings as the perfect blend between man and wolf. Personally, I don’t give a damn. All my ’wolf cares about is that you’re pack and my mate.”

“Right. Can we run through the whole mate thing again? I’m still not sure I follow.”

“It’s fairly self-explanatory, don’t you think?”

“Uh, well—”

“Oh, just shut up,” Killian growled. Then his mouth was covering Zayden’s, and the beta’s mind went blank. His alpha filled his senses: touch, sight, smell, taste, even hearing (he could hear Killian’s heartbeat, his breathing).

Killian’s mouth left his to trace his jawline, then taste his neck. A small groan escaped Zayden as he tilted his head back to grant the singer better access. The groan turned into a growl of need when Killian added his tongue to the mix, and his hips jerked forward reflexively.

“Please, Killian . . .” Was that his voice sounding so raw and desperate?

Suddenly Killian pulled away from him, leaving a hot, sweaty, sticky mess of a bassist behind. Glancing back over his shoulder at Zayden, he began to run.

And as he ran, he changed.

The transformation was quicker than normal—or at least, it took Killian far less time to shift than Zayden did—and in Killian’s place was a large wolf with glowing yellow-green eyes and golden fur.

<C’mon, Zayden,> Killian said using thought-speak. <Run with me.>

“Do I have to?”

<Don’t make me force you to shift. If I do, it’ll be extremely painful. Neither of us wants that.>

“Good point.”

Killian’s upper lip crinkled in a silent ’wolf laugh.

“Shut up.”

The ’wolf’s teeth were soon covered. When he was sure it was safe, Zayden called on his ’wolf, now enjoying the heady mix of pleasure and pain that came with the transformation. He was sure that after shifting a few more times, caught in its addictive thrall, he would find it hard to remember his reasons for resistance.

Why fight? the alpha ’wolf said in his head. You’re pack, my mate.

I know, Zayden’s ’wolf growled. ’Course, with it being a submissive beta, he averted his eyes. In ’wolf form—or even human form—looking Killian in the eyes just felt wrong, as if he was challenging the alpha. And to be honest, he liked when Killian’s ’wolf crept inside him like that, owning him, forcing him to obey. Maybe it was the fact the pack mentality was stronger in the lupine state, but—

<Zayden, you coming?>

<Wha—? Oh, yeah. Sorry.> The beta padded forward, surprised at how natural the four-legged gait was. This was only the second time he’d shifted since he’d been turned, so he had a lot to learn.

Killian took off at a lope and Zayden, not wanting his alpha to leave him, followed. Then Killian was gone from sight, having veered off into the trees. Confused, Zayden skidded to a halt, sniffing the air for his alpha’s scent.

The next thing he knew, something heavy had bowled him over. Zayden yelped, startled, and tried to heave himself to his paws. Only then did he realize that Killian was the thing that had attacked him.

<What are you doing?> he snarled, hackles raised.

<Playing. What’s it look like?>

<Oh, well, in that case . . .> Zayden pounced, teasingly, lightly. They rolled, jostled, nipped playfully at each other. The beta ’wolf was vaguely aware that Killian was herding him back to the house, but he didn’t care.

Next thing he knew, his human self had gained dominance over the ’wolf. Glancing over at Killian, Zayden saw that the singer had shifted back as well.

“C’mon,” Killian said softly, resting a hand on Zayden’s shoulder. “Let’s head inside. You need some sleep.”

Suddenly, the bassist was barely able to keep his eyes open. It took everything he had just to step inside the doorway. Of course, he collapsed right afterward, barely aware of the fact that Killian had caught him. He was already asleep—shifting at will took a lot out of him.

“Easy there,” Killian murmured, slinging Zayden over his shoulder in the fireman’s carry. The bassist was surprisingly light, or maybe he just seemed that way because of the strength Killian’s ’wolf gave him. In any case, Zayden was out cold when Killian carried him upstairs to their room, laid him on the bed. Considering they lost most of their clothes when they transformed, there wasn’t much to take off of the bassist. Both of them would have to find new shoes and clothes, but that was for the morning.

Without really thinking about it, Killian slid in next to Zayden. He was finding it hard to believe how he could have resisted this at first, of giving in to his feelings and letting the ’wolf have its way. Holding Zayden close felt so natural, and maybe it was the wildness in him that made him feel like this, but Killian didn’t mind, not really. He knew Zayden was his anchor, but he was worried on what Zayden’s would be. If he didn’t have control over his ’wolf on Change Nights—even if he was a wereling—he would probably try to escape and kill someone. Although he was the pack leader, Killian might not be able to stop him if that happened.

In an effort to clear his mind, he breathed in Zayden’s scent. His breathing gradually slowed, deepened . . . and it was as if someone had flipped a switch and turned the world off.

Apparently, even alphas needed sleep.