Come check out the music they said. You’ll love the band.
Zane always puts on the best shows.
What no one had thought to inform him of was that the show
was interactive, and that Zane, or at least, Graham was certain the white wolf
who’d pulled him up on the stage to dance was Zane, was the definition of
sinful. The wolf had gone from belting out lyrics to gyrating with the mic
stand, waist length white hair damp with sweat, those silver-blue eyes of theirs
seeming to glow every time the strobe lights flashed silver. When the mic stand
got boring, Zane growled into the mic, prompting the crowd to howl back. The
energy in the room was electric, crackling like a live wire, and revved up even
more when the singer leaped, twisting to land in the crowd, the wolves surfing them
around the room, which was how they’d come to land in front of Graham in the
first place.
Androgynous, with high cheekbones, their features soft, like
a shimmering sprite, ethereal and enchanting as all get up. This close up, he
could see the dusting of glitter on their cheekbones, the khol around their
eyes, and the sparkle of purple lip gloss that was smeared from where they’d
made out with one of their bandmates earlier in the show. Zane smirked, flicked
their tongue out, rolled their shoulders and wiggled their hips, growling when
Graham said to hell with teasing, yanked the singer into his arms and started
to grind against them, being sure they felt the strength in Graham’s embrace. Grinning,
Zane wrapped their arms around Graham’s neck, straddled his thigh, and howled,
hips rocking like a fuckin’ jackrabbit in heat.
Someone grabbed Zane’s hair, tugging their head back until they
were looking at the ceiling, the wolf’s midnight eyes holding a hint of
challenge as he smirked at Graham before howling, the crowd and Zane howling
with him while the guitars in the background raced on. On any other night, Graham would have let go of the singer, conceding so this pack wouldn’t find
out that their new doctor had a temper and a jealous streak that had gotten him
in trouble in the past. Tonight though, with the way Zane fit in his arms, and
the wild crackle of energy surrounding them, there was no way he was letting
go.
Grabbing Midnight Eye’s wrist, he found the pressure point,
squeezing until the other wolf grimaced and released his hold on Zane’s hair.
Snarling, Graham glared at him until he threw his hands up and backed away, leaving
him with the lithe figure dancing in his arms. The look Zane was giving him, wicked,
wild, and full of seduction, had Graham’s jeans feeling tight and his heart
hammering like he’d just finished a three-mile sprint. Behind them the song
wound down, but rather than return to the stage, Zane turned enough to shake their
hand across their throat several times, telling them to cut.
Any other place he’d ever been would have erupted into boos
and protests, but here there were good-natured chuckles, lewd comments, and a
reminder to come back in three days for another show.
“My place or yours?” Zane hissed, leaning in and licking the
shell of Graham’s ear.
“Whichever is closer,” Graham growled.
“In that case, there’s an RV out back. Band knows better
than to load out until it stops rockin’”
“Does it ever?”
Chuckling, Zane grabbed him by the hand and practically
dragged him through the packed bar, downing a drink someone shoved at them, and
catching a beer pitched in their direction on the way out the door. The ease
with which they’d done it, automatically, flinging their hand up in the air without
ever looking in the direction it was thrown from, told Graham it was
commonplace.
The white-haired wolf had that beer open and sliding down their
throat before they got out the back door, a large, dented gray and black RV parked
beneath a bright streetlight.
“What happened? Play too rough?”
“Is that even a thing?” Zane replied, speaking voice as
musical as their singing one. “I mean how can one play too rough?”
“Well, from a physician’s standpoint, I’d have to say that
if those dents were made by your body, then whoever was helping you put them
there might have been just a smidge rough.”
“Really,” Zane asked, opening the door and leading Graham
onto the bus, passing a trash receptacle where they deposited the now empty
bottle. “And if that’s what I asked for?”
“Was it?”
Snickering, Zane peeled their half-shredded t-shirt off and tossed it aside, leading Graham through to the back of the TV. “Nope, but now that you put it in my head, I’m gonna have to try it sometimes.”
Death Growl can be found on Amazon here!
A season. That’s the longest Zane stays anywhere. When the snow thaws and the pass is clear, he and his band will limp out of town in their battered RV, leaving Graham and his bruised heart behind him, unless he can find a way to convince Zane to take a chance on something no one has ever taken the time to explain to him.
Bond marks might be a desire of some wolves, but for Zane, they mean the end of the only family he’s ever known. On stage, he’s not the pup some angry wolf tossed out an open window into the scorching heat of desert sands, he’s Z. Wild, charismatic, nymphomaniac lead singer of Howling Rain. His after-show activities are what put the bond marks on his wrists in the first place, much to the dismay of his band mates who fear that those other kinds of mates will be the end of the success they’ve found together.
It’s up to Graham to teach them all that compromise, and understanding are a big part of the mating process, and that their found families can be expanded to fit a couple more wolves. After all, the attraction is there, and in those soft, cuddly moments where Z fades and Zane emerges, all their little wolf wants is cuddles, warm blankets and lots of love.
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