Zayden couldn’t believe he hadn’t figured out Killian’s secret before. Now that he knew it, upon looking back there were several signs that he had missed: Killian’s darker mood during the days of the full moon, the times he would snap and growl at various band members, and the way he could just appear silently out of nowhere. Zayden, Shane, Patrick, or Ryan (depending on who was in the room) would subsequently jump a foot in the air, yelp, and drop whatever they were holding, much to Killian’s obvious amusement. The bassist never found it funny and told Killian as such on multiple occasions—not that it did any good.

Currently, Zayden was eyeing the singer warily. The band was in the recording studio trying to work on yet another song for the Midnight Well album . . . and tonight just happened to be the full moon—a Change Night, as Killian called it. As far as Zayden knew, he was the only member of Rogue who knew their lead singer was a lycanthrope, shape-shifter, werewolf, whatever you wanted to call it. To be frank, knowing Killian’s secret scared him half to death. The first time he’d seen Killian in ’wolf form, the lupine had tried to kill him. He’d had nightmares for weeks afterward.

Now, in the studio, Zayden flinched when he caught Killian looking in his direction, pale-green eyes darkening to emerald. Not surprising, considering Zayden had been eyeing the singer carefully.

Then Killian was walking over to him, sitting down in the chair next to the bassist. He asked, “How’s it coming?”

“Still can’t quite get the riff for ‘Fever’.”

“You’ll get it.” Killian paused, shifted his weight. “Why’re you watching me, Zayden?”

“You know why,” he murmured, nervously picking at the strings of his bass. “You tried to kill me.”

“I’m not normally like that when I shift, Zayden.”

The bassist smiled a little. “Yeah, well, I guess it’s your time of the month, isn’t it.” It was more of a statement than a question.

“That’s not funny, Zayden.”

“Really? I thought it was hilarious.”

“You don’t want to be making jokes like that, not when I’m feeling like this.” The ’wolf’s eyes flared yellow-green. “Don’t push me, Zay.”

“Sorry,” he said quickly.

The door to the studio opened and David Savage, their producer, stuck his head in: “Everything okay in here?”

Zayden glanced at Killian only to find his bandmate’s face was expressionless. He replied, “We’re fine, Dave.”

“You’re sure?”

Killian nodded and waved his hand in a “go away” fashion. Dave’s expression clouded over; but he backed out anyway, shutting the door behind him.

Zayden, once he was sure that David was gone, studied his friend. “Are you sure you’re all right, mate?”

“No.” The singer’s voice was rough, with a gravelly undertone. It was almost like he was trying not to growl. “I can’t concentrate. All this noise, everyone’s emotions, my emotions, my senses . . . The full moon turns ’em up to ten.”

“That’s—”

“It sucks.”

Zayden chuckled a little. Killian could make him so amused . . . and flustered . . . and confused with some of his comments.

Killian glared. “It’s. Not. Funny.”

Zayden’s small smile faded. “I know. Sorry. So, what do you say we go somewhere else, eh?”

The werewolf frowned. “Huh?”

Killian’s best mate rolled his eyes. “As in, take off, do some sightseeing, have fun. Maybe find you a girl.”

Now Killian looked interested. His voice, though, was dead serious: “I don’t need a girl.”

“Then what do you need?”

“Food.”

“What kind of food?”

“It must be blood,” Killian said in a low voice. Zayden looked queasy as he continued, “It must be fresh.”

“Killian, that’s disgusting.”

The singer merely grinned. “I’m just messin’ with ya. Haven’t you ever seen Little Shop of Horrors?”

“In Kilkenny? You must be joking.” Zayden wanted to punch him for the fresh blood comment. That really hadn’t been funny, and—

“Hey, you made a werewolf joke.”

“Little Shop quote, but close enough. And of course I didn’t mean Kilkenny. I meant like in Dublin or something.”

“So I take it you wanna ditch,” Zayden remarked after a moment’s thought.

“Hell yeah,” Killian said with a smile.

*

A very short time later, both of them were wondering if leaving the studio without telling David was such a great idea after all. Killian flinched at the sound of every passing car and twisted his head around to track it with his gaze.

“If you start chasing cars,” Zayden warned, “I’m not coming after you.”

Killian looked offended. “Werewolves don’t chase cars. We’re not dogs.”

“I’m sure some people would beg to differ.”

“That’s a horrible pun.”

Zayden grinned. “Was it? I hadn’t noticed.”

Killian growled, and Zayden could see budding canines. The bassist gulped and frantically cast his mind around for a change of topic. As he did so, he caught sight of a couple broads out of the corner of his eye. From what he could see of the brief glimpse, they were in torn, faded blue jeans; T-shirts, white with some sort of logo; jackets; scuffed shoes, probably tennis shoes; and lots of hair. Zayden immediately altered course to further check the girls out, leaving Killian to walk on for a few more strides before he realized the bassist was no longer with him. Puzzled, he stopped, looked around, saw Zayden was homing in on a couple of birds, and was soon on his bandmate’s six.

The two girls were talking to each other but stopped when Killian and Zayden were within earshot. One of them, a blonde, gave the boys elevator eyes before asking, “Shouldn’t you be in school?”

Killian bristled. Everyone in the band looked young for their age—Ryan was actually twenty yet he looked sixteen—and they knew it. He said shortly, “We were done with school years ago. We’re in a band, actually.”

The other girl, this one with black hair, gave an odd little gasp. “I thought you looked familiar! You’re from Rogue, aren’t you?”

Killian couldn’t help noticing that the blonde was rolling her eyes and shaking her head slightly, almost as if she were saying, Now you’ve done it. The singer exchanged glances with the bassist, whose facial expression made it clear he was trying not to laugh. Clearly, Zayden wasn’t going to be much help. So the lupine answered, “Yeah, we are.” Funny, I didn’t think we were that big in the U.K. Not quite sure why we’re more popular in the U.S., though.

“Don’t encourage her,” the blonde muttered. “Please. Some of us want to stay sane.”

“You’re sure about that?” Zayden murmured under his breath. The raven-haired girl’s friend slapped her palm to her own forehead as her friend squealed in excitement, muttering, “I told you not to encourage her.”

This time neither Rogue made an attempt to hide his amusement. Both Zayden and Killian were grinning so broadly they thought their faces would split open. Now that Killian had a closer look at both girls, he could see they really were pretty, with a nice bit of meat on their bones. His gaze darkened, his mouth watered, and . . . oh no.

Zayden’s fingertips grazed the back of his hand, and Killian quickly curled his fingers into his palms, hoping to God that the girls hadn’t seen his claws. When he unfurled them a couple heartbeats later, they were human, much to his relief. However, despite the warm weather, he was growing even hotter—and his body temperature was higher than a human’s anyway.

He couldn’t shift, not yet, it was too soon.

Somehow he choked out a, “See you later, yeah?” Then he was gone, turning the corner.

Zayden shot both girls an apologetic look and hurried after his friend. Killian, hearing footsteps behind him, whipped around in a fighting stance. He relaxed when he saw it was just Zayden, but the wary look never left his green eyes.

“You okay, mate?” Zayden asked.

Killian tried to slow his breathing, gritted his teeth. The heat in his skin dissipated; the danger of him shifting was fading—for now. His throat was dry; he cleared it before replying, “Yeah. I’m okay now.”

There was a pause. Then Zayden asked, “So, d’you think she liked me?”

“Which one?”

“The blonde. Clearly, that black-haired chick was drooling over you.”

A hint of the wolf crept into Killian’s eyes, and the dark smirk was so uncharacteristic of him, so not Killian, that Zayden was starting to freak out a little. Upon seeing the bassist’s nervous expression, Killian’s smirk widened as even more of the wolf slid into his green eyes. Since one-half of his face was now in shadow, the overall effect was downright creepy, if not evil. Killian murmured, “Yes, she was, wasn’t she?” His ’wolf, remembering the shapely, muscular, female body, licked its lips hungrily; his human self mirrored the action.

He snapped out of it when he realized Zayden was staring at him. The bassist said, “Uh, Killian?”

“What?” he snapped.

“Are you sure you’re all right? You sort of had a serial killer thing going on for a moment there.”

Killian glanced away and found he was looking in the direction where the two girls were. He retorted, “Bite me.”

“If I did, it wouldn’t do anything. And I wasn’t seriously considering it, but if you want . . .” There was a grain of laughter in Zayden’s voice.

“Shut it, you wanker.”

Zayden merely grinned.