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The Rock Star and the Wolf

Harlan Weatherly is a Hunter, a shifter who metes out justice to
those of his kin who think themselves above the law. He's also

horny as hell.

After his latest hunt goes wrong, leaving a fleeing and bitten

victim, he has to work hard to track down the man and train him
in the ways of shifters. His job gets that much harder when he

finds out that the man in question is none other than Mitchell
"Mitch" Shaw, world famous rock star. After a chance encounter in

a gay bar the two soon come together, but it quickly becomes
clear that training isn't the only thing on their minds.

On top of a burgeoning relationship, and getting used to living the

life of luxury, Harlan also has to avoid the increasingly ferocious
attacks of his latest target’s wolf pack.

Can Harlan and Mitch’s relationship weather the oncoming storm?

Genre: Alternative (M/M or F/F), Paranormal,
Vampires/Werewolves
Length: 42,347 words

THE ROCK STAR AND THE

WOLF

JC Holly

EROTIC ROMANCE

MANLOVE

Siren Publishing, Inc.

www.SirenPublishing.com

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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Erotic Romance ManLove

THE ROCK STAR AND THE WOLF
Copyright © 2013 by JC Holly
E-book ISBN: 978-1-62740-091-6

First E-book Publication: June 2013

Cover design by Harris Channing
All cover art and logo copyright © 2013 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be
reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including
electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without
express written permission.

All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance
to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com

Letter to Readers

Dear Readers,

If you have purchased this copy of The Rock Star and the Wolf by JC
Holly from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you.
Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

Regarding E-book Piracy

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Holly’s right to earn a living from her work.

Amanda Hilton, Publisher

www.SirenPublishing.com

www.BookStrand.com

THE ROCK STAR AND THE

WOLF

JC HOLLY

Chapter One

Mitchell “Mitch” Shaw clutched his microphone and threw back

his head as he cried out the words to his number-one hit single. He
closed his eyes and soaked in the energy of the stadium, as thousands
of men and women sang along with him. As he reached the end of the
final verse he strutted over to Carr, the lead guitarist, sang the last few
words with him, then slapped him on the back as Carr stepped
forward to play his solo.

A moment to himself in front of the crowd, Mitch stared out into

the sea of faces, as he often did. The fans loved it—he’d seen many a
blog where someone had sworn that he had been looking right at them
while he sang—but he had an ulterior motive. For the last few
months, a man had been present at each gig. A man that never sang
along, never swayed with the music, never even smiled. He just stared
right at Mitch.

The man wasn’t there for the entire duration, but he was always

there for a song or two, before disappearing. Mitch had never seen
him outside of a concert, or at any of his other public appearances, but
the guy still gave him the creeps.

Just as the song came to an end he spotted the man near the front

of the crowd. Tall, thin, a mess of brown hair that looked like he’d

The Rock Star and the Wolf

been dragged backward through multiple hedges. There was
something about his stare, too. Something wild.

For a moment he wanted to shout into the microphone. To get his

fans to grab the guy and bring him forward. Just so he could find out
what the hell the guy wanted. He didn’t though, and as the song ended
and everyone began to cheer, the man left. Mitch watched him go,
then shook himself out of his confusion long enough to thank the
audience and tell them they’d be back out in ten minutes, then headed
toward the back of the stage with the band.

“Was he out there?” Carr said, a smirk on his lips. “Your secret

admirer?”

The rest of the band laughed, and Mitch took it with a grin. He

couldn’t let them know how much the guy got to him. After all, he’d
never done anything other than stare.

“Yeah, I saw him,” he said. “I swear, the guy must only hang

around for his favorite songs.”

Theo, the drummer, shook his head. “Waste of a fuckin’ ticket, if

you ask me.”

“I ain’t complaining,” Carr said between sips of his water bottle.

“He’s paying our wages.”

“Remind me to write him a thank you letter, then,” Mitch

muttered as he headed to the bathroom.

The gig was the last of the tour, and Mitch had never been more

glad of anything. Every part of him ached, from his vocal chords to
his feet, and a few months kicking back in some warm country
sounded like heaven. He planned to do as little as possible for a few
weeks before starting work on the new album.

Well, he’d probably head to a few bars, using the patented

celebrity disguise of a baseball cap and some big sunglasses. Maybe
find a cute guy to take to a motel and have a little fun. Of course that
had a few risks. The biggest being that he wasn’t currently ‘out’, other
than to his bandmates. He wasn’t ashamed of being gay. It was just

JC Holly

that with a band like his, built heavily on sexuality, their sales relied
on their female fans thinking they stood a chance.

He smirked as he bent over the tiny sink and splashed water on his

face. If they could see what he got up to some weekends, the album
sales would probably plummet. Then again, they could surprise him
and not care in the least. If it was just his livelihood at stake, he’d out
himself, but he had his bandmates to think about.

“Ah, the trials of being famous,” he said as he dried his face and

walked back out to his friends. “Let’s make ’em scream.”

* * * *

By the time the set was finished Mitch was exhausted, and by the

time they’d finished the encore song and fought the scrum of fans to
get back onto the tour bus, he doubted he’d be able to spell his name,
let alone sign it.

Some of the band members and crew were using somewhat illegal

methods to keep awake, but Mitch was long over that bullshit, and
instead headed to the back of the bus and dropped onto his bed.

He managed a whole thirty minutes of sleep before there was an

almighty bang that jolted the entire vehicle. The area filled with
questions and curses as guitars were dropped and lines of coke were
messed up. Mitch staggered through to the front to find the driver
pulling the bus onto the side of the darkened road.

“Sorry, Mitch,” he said. “A tire blew. We’ve got a spare, but I’ll

have to call for a tow to a garage to get it fitted.”

Mitch patted him on the shoulder. “Hey, it’s not your fault. I’ll tell

the boys.”

The boys were less amiable than Mitch, but they could hardly

complain. It’s not like you could jack up a tour bus and change the
tire by yourself. Their muttering got the better of Mitch, though, as it
did more and more lately, and he headed out the door into the cool
night air.

The Rock Star and the Wolf

The driver was out there already, calling someone on his phone,

so Mitch headed away from the bus, seeking the quiet. They must
have been driving for longer than he’d thought, as they were on a road
in the middle of nowhere. To both sides of the road lay trees and not
much else. It beat whiny musicians, though, so Mitch pulled the collar
of his jacket tighter and wandered into the tree line.

He kept the bus in sight at all times, which wasn’t difficult given

the size and number of lights, but it didn’t take long before the sounds
of nature started to creep him out. As he was about to return, a crackle
of branches had him turn to his side and cry out in surprise.

A large black wolf stood only feet from him, its gaze hard on him.

A low growl threatened to stop Mitch’s heart dead, and a rustle
somewhere nearby had him sure there was more than just one wolf.

“Nice doggy,” Mitch said, as he backed up slowly, his hands out.

“No need to get mad. I’m just leaving.”

It turned out that holding his arms out was a stupid move, and the

wolf lunged, sinking its teeth into his wrist and hand. Mitch cried out
in agony and somehow managed to pull free. The effort threw him to
the ground, though, and he could only watch as the wolf stepped
closer, its teeth now red with his own blood.

The rustle off to the side got louder, and Mitch said a silent good-

bye to his friends and family. As the wolf closed in to finish what it
had started, it suddenly turned to the side and snarled. Another wolf
appeared, and this one seemed to be more interested in the wolf than
in Mitch. The two animals squared off against each other, pawing the
dirt and growling. Seeing it as a slim chance at escape, Mitch
scrabbled at the dirt and managed to get to his feet.

The first wolf turned and snarled, but that turned out to be a

mistake, as the second wolf lunged, ripping into the first’s neck. The
fight was on, then, and Mitch turned and fled, expecting to be torn
apart at any second.

By the time he reached the bus, the whole crew was stood on the

road, flashlights aimed at the trees. Mitch staggered to the hardtop and

JC Holly

dropped to his knees, panting and clutching his torn arm. Carr got to
him first and tore at his shirt to make a makeshift bandage.

“What the fuck happened?” he asked as he worked on Mitch’s

wrist.

“Wolves,” was all Mitch managed to say before the world went

black.

* * * *

Harlan circled the downed wolf, aware that the victim had

managed to escape, but also that he had been bitten. A bright bus was
in the middle distance, now joined by a large tow truck. The bitten
man would survive, though he would likely avoid forests for a while.

As Harlan moved in to finish the job, the wolf snarled as it shifted

back into its human form. Honor amongst shifters dictated that Harlan
do the same. He wanted to talk, anyway.

“Who the hell are you?” the man asked, sat on the ground and

panting from the strain of the shift. “You messed up my hunt.”

Blood ran freely down his neck. If he bound it he would probably

heal just fine, but Harlan was there to make sure that didn’t happen.

“James Brubeck, you have been found guilty of contravening the

rules of The Ancients. I am to be your executioner.”

“You’re using fairy tales of the original wolves as an excuse to

track and kill shifters?” Brubeck spat a mouthful of blood onto the
forest floor. “Cute.”

“Thank you for noticing. I’m quite serious, though.” Harlan held

out his hand and a long-bladed silver dagger appeared, making the
man’s eyes widen comically. “You are guilty of hunting and killing
innocents, as well as bringing the curse to those that do not wish it.”

“The Ancients are real.” Brubeck shook his head in disbelief.

“I’ve been doing what I do for a hundred years, and only now they try
and stop me?”

The Rock Star and the Wolf

Harlan wasn’t usually one for conversing with his kills, other than

the necessary words, but as he needed information from him and
intended to kill him afterward, he decided to indulge the man. “The
old ones went into seclusion after a conflict left only a handful of
survivors. We have only just started reasserting our position and
enforcing the laws.”

“Makes sense.” Brubeck stood and dusted the dirt from his bare

skin. “So, you’re here to kill me.”

“I am. Though I have a question first.”
He shrugged. “Ask it.”
“The man you attacked. Was that by chance, or had you hunted

him.”

“I hunted him. I’ve been watching him for some time, looking for

a way to get to him. I thought I’d gotten a break when his bus blew a
tire. Pulled my car up a way back and came to see if I could catch
him.”

Harlan nodded. “And did you pass on the curse?”
Brubeck grinned. “You’ll never know.”
Before Harlan could respond, the man lunged forward, his hands

aiming for Harlan’s neck. He twisted away and jammed his knife into
the man’s back as he passed, piercing the heart. Brubeck collapsed to
the floor, dead.

“Damn it.”
Harlan squatted by the man to check his pulse, then stood and

stared back toward the tour bus. Whoever the man that had been
bitten was, he was either famous, or crew, and now either had a
regular bite or the beginnings of a hell of a lifestyle change.

JC Holly

Chapter Two

Mitch woke to find Carr passed out on the bed beside him,

painkillers in his hands. He raised his hand to scratch at his head and
swore as the movement sent pain searing through his wrist.

Carr woke with a start. “Oh, hey. You’re up.”
“And sore,” Mitch muttered. “Those pain pills for me?”
Carr popped the lid and handed Mitch too many, along with a

glass of water. “I kept an eye on you, in case you got a fever or
something. Must have passed out.”

“Thanks, man.”
“Hey, you’d do the same.”
Mitch smiled and swallowed his pills, hoping they’d act fast. Carr

was a sarcastic asshole and regularly tried to hog the limelight, but he
was a good guy.

“You remember what happened last night?”
Mitch shrugged. “Kinda. I went to get some fresh air and I found a

couple of wolves instead.”

“A couple?” Carr shook his head. “Shit, you’re lucky to be alive.”
“Tell me about it. The first one took a bite out of me, and then

they started fighting. Probably over who got to eat me.”

Carr laughed. “Luckiest son of a bitch alive. The press will love

this, you know. By the time they’re through you’ll have fought both
off barehanded while protecting a fan.”

Mitch snorted. “Yeah, no doubt. I’d rather just forget about the

whole thing. Did we get the tire fixed?”

“Yup.” Carr stood and stretched, then gestured to the window.

“Been driving all morning. You’ve been out for hours.”

The Rock Star and the Wolf

“Feels more like minutes.” Mitch glanced down to find a new

bandage on his wrist. “You change it when I was out?”

“Yeah, you were gone, so I stitched you up and put a real dressing

on.” Carr grinned. “Aren’t you glad you have an ex-doctor for a
guitarist?”

“Never been gladder.”
Carr headed out the door to let everyone know that Mitch was in

one piece, and Mitch headed into the little shower room attached to
the bedroom. Once inside he locked the door and sat on the toilet seat
as he unfurled the bandage.

While pretty damn ugly, the wound didn’t look as bad as he had

expected. In fact it looked smaller than it did the night before. That
was probably his memory messing with him, though. Other than pain
when he flexed his wrist and a little tiredness, he felt okay. Better than
okay, actually. The aches from the previous night were gone.

“Amazing what a little sleep will do.”
He headed back into the bedroom to see what a whole heap more

sleep would do.

* * * *

By the time Harlan had dragged Brubeck’s body further into the

woods and buried him deep enough that nothing could eat him, the
tour bus had been long gone. He’d had the foresight to get the plate
number first, though, so when he finally got back to civilization—and
his stashed clothes—he headed to his motel room and turned on his
laptop. It didn’t take him long to find something.

The first search result was for a fan’s blog. Apparently they had

the plate for every vehicle the band, The Twisted Nails, had ever
used. It was an odd hobby, but one Harlan was glad for. A link on the
side of the page took him to the official page for the band. On the
picture at the top of the site stood the man Harlan was searching for.

JC Holly

“Great.” He sighed and pulled out his cellphone. “It would be the

fucking lead singer.”

He sent a text to a memorized phone number that read, “Hey, did

that favor you asked for. Bit of a hassle, though.” A reply came back
almost instantly, saying, “Yeah? What happened?”

He chewed his lip as he decided how best to put “the prick

possibly infected a millionaire singer who’s constantly in the public
eye” into something less incriminating if intercepted. In the end he
settled on, “Just a little bite. Probably nothing. Oh, saw Mitch Shaw
from The Twisted Nails, too. :-)”

This time there was a longer wait before the reply. “Any chance of

a signed photo?” Or in English, could he get to the guy. “Leave it
with me,” he replied, simply, then put his phone away.

Getting close to the man would be tricky. He was used to a

challenge, but his skills lay elsewhere. Enhanced senses and a
centuries-old magical dagger wouldn’t get him that far in this case.

He turned his attention back to the web page. The guy was cute,

that was for certain, and according to a few websites, he was single.
Maybe if Harlan figured out where he was staying, he could hit a few
upscale bars and see if he got lucky. The sites also said he was
straight. Damn shame. I wouldn’t mind showing him a good time or
three.

Harlan flipped on the small TV. So far there was nothing on the

news about the attack. Hopefully it wouldn’t be considered important
enough, but given the way celebrities were practically worshipped, he
wouldn’t be surprised if it made the headlines.

He sighed and started searching the Internet for information on

where Mitch Shaw might be headed. Apparently his band’s tour had
just ended, and they were now on a break for at least a few months.
That was good news, at least. The press would be hounding him less,
meaning Mitch might head out more.

A browse on a social-networking site told him that the bus had

been spotted around the back of one of the fancy hotels in a city about

The Rock Star and the Wolf

three hour’s drive away. The post had been made ten minutes ago.
Harlan glanced at the clock. He could be in the city by late afternoon
if he set off immediately. He pulled his backpack from under the bed
and started to pack what meager possessions he carried with him on
jobs, then remembered his phone. He pulled it out and passed on
Mitch’s whereabouts via a cheerful text, then added, “Might get that
photo after all.”

* * * *

Some of the band had complained about the unscheduled detour—

it meant that their stop in Vegas would be a day shorter—but Mitch
used his wound to play on their sympathies, as well as pointing out
that the city had a large number of nightclubs, and they had eventually
agreed to stop at the hotel.

As soon as they had parked and checked in, Mitch headed straight

to his room on the top floor, along with Carr and Keith, the bass
player. The trip up in the elevator was mostly about what keys were
best to play in. By the time the doors pinged open Mitch almost ran to
his room.

They had stayed at the hotel before, as it was known for its strict

anonymity. As Mitch could attest, you could bring anyone back to
your room and the press would never hear of it. His kind of place.

Once he’d locked the door, he headed into the bathroom and ran a

bath, then stripped off while he waited. He realized with amusement
that the idea of bringing someone back had brought his cock to rigid
attention.

“I guess it has been a while.”
He rubbed his thumb over the tip of his cock, then began to stroke

the shaft, picturing himself picking up some hot guy in a shady bar,
then sneaking him in the back entrance and into his room. Then he’d
break out the lube, bend over, and let them fuck him raw.

The Rock Star and the Wolf

Chapter Three

Harlan pulled his rented car into the parking lot of the latest of a

string of motels and rented a room. As much as he believed his job
was important, the long-distance jobs were a killer, and this last one
took the cake. He hadn’t slept in his own bed in weeks, thanks to the
merry chase Brubeck had led him on. Harlan had always been one
step behind the man, arriving in towns and cities only to find the man
had left. Now he knew it was because the man was following the
band’s tour schedule, but at the time he’d been clueless.

The break in the case had been when Harlan caught a glimpse of

the shifter in a rental car, heading out of town. After some detective
work and the assistance of local packs, he’d been able to track the
man down. If only that had been the end of it. Why couldn’t Brubeck
have waited another minute to attack? Harlan could have got there
and stopped him before he bit the singer, and all would be fine and
dandy.

Harlan jammed his key into the motel door a little too viciously,

then slammed it shut behind him. On the bright side, he told himself,
Brubeck was dead. He couldn’t kill any more innocents or turn any
more into weres, then leave them alone and confused like he had done
a dozen times at least.

Harlan rubbed at his eyes and sat on the edge of the bed. “Life

was so much easier when I was human.”

Hell, life was easier when he was just another shifter, living a

normal life during the day and hunting game with his pack at night.
Back before he was promoted to second in his pack, the alpha’s
bodyguard. Back before he gained a reputation for being both a fair

JC Holly

man and a vicious fighter, and thus gained the attention of the newly
revitalized Ancients.

Leaving his pack was the hardest thing he had ever had to do. It

was helped by the fact that he knew what he was doing would be
good for his people, both human and shifter, but still…

He sighed and kicked off his shoes. Dwelling on the past was for

drunks. The here and now was what mattered. He was saving lives
and making sure those that took them paid the ultimate price. He held
out his hand and willed the dagger known as The Executioner into
existence, then spun it in his palm.

“There are more important things than sleeping in my own bed,”

he said aloud, before dismissing the blade.

Like Mitch Shaw, for instance. If the man was only bitten, Harlan

could go on his merry way. But if Brubeck had bitten him and willed
the curse to pass over, Harlan would have to show the singer what it
meant to be a shifter, and how to cope with the change.

He hoped it was the first of the two possibilities.

* * * *

Mitch slid out of his bath and into the fluffy white robe the hotel

had supplied. The logo of the hotel was embossed on the breast in a
futile attempt to stop people stealing them. Hell, he could afford a
thousand better robes and he was still tempted to stuff it in a suitcase.

As he padded into the bedroom, the strains of thumping music

could be heard from the direction of Carr’s room. It wasn’t like him to
crank the metal, even when he was drunk as he probably was then.
Mitch shrugged it away as he fiddled with his bandage. The dressing
came off in a soggy heap, revealing a neat crescent of dark stitches
stretching from the outside of his hand to part way down his wrist.

Surprisingly there was no pain at all now. He flexed it

experimentally, then snapped his hand up and down a few times.

The Rock Star and the Wolf

Nothing. The painkillers Carr gave him must have been good ones.
Nobody healed that fast.

The plan for the evening had been decided upon in the bath. Order

room service, eat enough to stop his stomach bitching, don his
disguise, and grab a taxi to the nearest gay bar.

He dropped onto the edge of the bed and plucked the phone from

its cradle. The call was answered on the first ring.

“Yes, Mister Shaw?” a friendly female voice asked.
“Hi, I’d like to order some food.” He gazed at the menu. “I have a

real hankering for steak.”

“Of course, sir. How about our steak au poivre?”
“I have no idea what that is.”
“It’s steak in peppercorns with a cognac sauce. I’m told it’s

lovely.”

“Ah, no thanks. How about just a big steak with thick fries on the

side?”

“And a Coke?”
Mitch laughed. “It’s like you know me.”
The woman laughed. “And how do you like your steak?”
“Well done.” He paused. “Actually, for some reason I’d like it

rare.”

“Rare it is. It’ll be about thirty minutes, if that’s okay?”
“That’s fine. Thanks for the help.”
He hung up the phone and lay back on the bed. He was pretty sure

he should be tired, given the attack, followed by a distinct lack of
sleep. In fact the last time he’d slept for more than a few hours was a
week ago.

“Guess I’m still full of adrenaline.”
Or something else. He chewed his lip, then picked up the phone

again and asked the receptionist to put a call through to Carr’s room.

“Hey, Mitch. Arm bugging you?”
“No, actually it’s great. I was wondering about those painkillers I

took. Were they something special?”

JC Holly

“Just regular stuff.” The thumping music was turned down. “Why,

you getting side effects? I can come over if you are.”

“Nothing like that. If anything I feel great. Wide awake, no pain.

It’s weird.”

“Well, I’m no expert, but maybe it’s the shock. It can do fucked-

up stuff to the body sometimes.”

“Explains why I’m craving rare steak.”
Carr laughed. “Not really. Anything planned tonight?”
“The usual. Early night, et cetera.”
“So you’re sneaking out to get laid.”
Mitch sat bolt upright. “How did you guess?”
“You always do that at the end of a tour. Not that I’m saying it’s a

bad thing. Hell, I’ve got a couple of fans waiting for me downstairs.
I’m going to give the tour of my bed.”

Mitch shook his head. “Have fun.”
“You too. Be careful with that arm, though.”
“Promise.”
The call ended. He jumped up from the bed and pulled off his

robe then slid out his suitcase. Most of the stuff in there was stage
stuff. Overly tight jeans, torn shirts, the usual rock stuff his band’s
fans loved. He had remembered to bring some casual stuff too,
though, and pulled out a pair of regular slacks and a blue shirt.
Nothing too fancy, but he didn’t want to stand out anyway.

As he finished dressing there was a knock at the door. He could

smell the food already and hurried over to let the waiter in, then
signed the bill and handed him a couple of fifties, one for him, one for
the phone attendant. He’d made the mistake before of not tipping
properly, and it had been on the Internet the next day.

The waiter left, considerably happier than he had been on entry,

and Mitch put the tray on the bed and whipped off the cover. Damn, it
looked even better than it smelled, and he tore into it with relish. He
must have been hungrier than he thought, as the meal was the best
thing he could remember eating in a long time. Especially the steak.

The Rock Star and the Wolf

Finished, he headed to the bathroom to check his hair and redress

his arm, then headed out the door.

* * * *

There had been no further communication from headquarters, so

Harlan kept to the plan. He’d hit a few clubs, try and catch Mitch’s
scent, then attempt to talk to him without the guy thinking he was
some random fan after an autograph.

Normally any shifter could identify another shifter just through an

innate sense. With someone who had only just been bitten, though, it
rarely worked. Then again, Brubeck had been an old wolf, which
meant his bite was more potent. Either way, Harlan would have to get
close to find out. At least within thirty feet or so.

The motel room’s bathroom was nothing more than a shower

cubicle, tiny sink, and toilet, but it was enough for Harlan’s needs. He
quickly washed the miles of travelling from his body, then slipped
into a pair of jeans and a polo shirt. He wasn’t looking for anyone
other than Mitch, so he hardly needed to put a lot of effort into
preening. After a quick glance in the mirror he headed out the door.

Most of the bars in the area were located on two streets only a

couple of miles from his motel, but since he may need to follow
Mitch around, he jumped into his car and parked as close to the first
street as he could.

The first club he came across was a gay bar. It wasn’t where he’d

find Mitch, but he paused as he passed the place. It was still early,
after all. Rockstars were like bats, and only came out late, right? A
few drinks in the company of good-looking men before the hunt
wouldn’t hurt.

The doormen let him straight in, as usually happened. Maybe they

could sense that trying to stop him was more than their jobs were
worth. Still, he flashed them both a big smile as he headed in. He had
enough enemies as it was.

JC Holly

The bar was small and new. The raised dance floor in the center

was already half full of gyrating bodies. So distracted with the various
body parts in tight clothing, Harlan almost missed a familiar scent.

In the darkness of a corner booth sat Mitch Shaw, his hair brushed

flat unlike his usual outlandish style, and a thick pair of glasses
perched on his nose. The simple disguise probably worked, though.
After all, he was in a dark bar surrounded by people drinking alcohol.
The loud music would likely make his voice harder to identify, too.

Harlan realized with a sinking feeling that he could detect

something different about the man. It wasn’t strong yet, but the man
had definitely been infected. Harlan clenched his jaw for a moment,
then headed to the bar and ordered a whisky. His job had just got ten
times harder.

“Fuckin’ Brubeck,” he muttered as he knocked back the drink.
“That an ex-boyfriend, hun?” the bartender asked.
“Well, he fucked me, that’s for certain.” Harlan turned and

nodded to Mitch in the corner. “What’s the guy over there drinking?”

“Jack and Coke. Want me to pour you one?”
He nodded. “Thanks, cutie.”
The bartender winked and slid the drink to him. “I’d give him a

minute, though. The guy’s only just come in and he seems pretty
nervous. Might be a newbie.”

“Oh, he is.”
Harlan sat back on his stool for a minute, covertly watching

Mitch. The guy was cute, definitely, with shaggy black hair and bright
eyes. Skinny without being rake thin, not too tall… Harlan’s type. He
had spent an hour or two watching the man’s music videos. He
seemed to be a talented singer, and according to his website, he wrote
most of the songs, too.

A guy swished his way over to Mitch’s table and bent over to chat

with him. Mitch was clearly uninterested and the man soon headed off
back to the dance floor. Harlan smirked and stood. Now was as good
a time as any to introduce himself.

The Rock Star and the Wolf

“Hey,” he said as he approached the table. “Drink?”
Mitch’s neutral expression turned to a smile when he saw Harlan.

“Thanks. You, uh, you come here much?”

Harlan smiled back. Bless, he’s nervous. “Just passing through.

You?”

“Same.” Mitch gestured to a seat. “Want to sit?”
“Sure.”
Harlan settled across from the man. Damn it, Brubeck. Already

Mitch was beginning to change. The man may not have noticed
anything more than an increased appetite, or a reduction in aches and
pains, but it wouldn’t be long before he’d be confused as hell by what
was happening.

Harlan glanced away for a moment, trying to figure out how best

to broach the subject of the paranormal, when Mitch spoke.

“Wanna go someplace quieter?”
“Hmm?”
The man reeked of lust. “You know.” He lowered his voice.

“Somewhere that involves less clothing.”

Harlan felt his body react to the proposal before his mouth could.

The guy certainly didn’t beat around the bush. While his employers
had no rules against such thing, he had his own morals to think about.
On the other hand, it had been a while since he’d got laid, and he was
as horny as a three-balled tomcat.

“I’ve got a room at a local motel,” he said. “Or if you have

somewhere better in mind?”

Mitch shook his head and downed his drink. “Let’s go.”

JC Holly

Chapter Four

Mitch knew he was taking a chance by heading to a stranger’s

rented room, but he didn’t care. He didn’t know why, but ever since
leaving the hotel he’d felt pretty damn invincible. His arm didn’t hurt,
he wasn’t in the least bit tired, and he was convinced that he could
handle anything the world decided to throw at him.

Plus, y’know, the guy was hot.
He’d introduced himself as Harlan. His accent had hints of a

hundred different places, leaving Mitch—who was going with Mike
for the evening—with no clue as to where he was from originally. He
didn’t ask, as he knew how these one-night deals worked out. You
talk too much and some of the guys lost all interest. They wanted sex,
not a chat.

That was fine with Mitch, anyway. That’s all he wanted tonight,

too. “Get some, get gone,” as Carr so eloquently put it.

“So, how do you like it?” Harlan said, as he let Mitch into the

motel room.

“It’s nice, I guess.” Mitch nodded to the wallpaper. “Always been

a fan of lime green.”

Harlan laughed, a low rumble that made Mitch shiver. “I meant

the sex.”

“Oh, right. Hard and fast.”
He smiled. “Works for me. Take off your clothes.”
Mitch hesitated. This part was always a worry. Not that he had

anything to be ashamed of, but there was almost that moment of
nervousness, no matter how hard he worked out. He unbuttoned his
shirt and pulled it off, dropping it on the floor.

The Rock Star and the Wolf

Harlan frowned. “Huh.”
Mitch’s stomach clenched. “What?”
“That bandage. You hurt yourself.”
He glanced down. “Oh. Yeah, dog bite. No biggy.”
Harlan nodded, then gestured to Mitch’s pants. “Take ’em off and

turn around.”

Mitch did as he was told and slid his pants down his legs, along

with his underwear, then spun to face the bed. Harlan stepped up
behind him and snaked a hand around to grip Mitch’s hardening cock.

“Nice,” he said, as he pulled the foreskin back from the engorged

head. “Pity you ain’t a top. You’d make a lot of men very happy.”

Mitch reached back and grabbed at Harlan’s still-clothed ass.

“How do you know I’m not?”

“Years of experience.”
Mitch jumped at the sound of a zipper being pulled down. “You

don’t look that old.”

“I started young.”
Not wanting to miss all the fun, Mitch turned to watch the man

undress. His shirt was already off, revealing sculpted abs and pecs
you could break walnuts on. Small, almost unnoticeable scars crossed
one pec, stretching diagonally down toward his naval. The grouping
almost made them look like claw marks. Mitch opened his mouth to
comment on it, but he was distracted as Harlan pulled down his jeans.

His cock sprang up from beneath the clothing, hard and ready to

go, and Mitch couldn’t peel his eyes away. Mitch was big and had had
his share of big dicks, too, but it never failed to surprise him when
someone pulled something out of their pants that was bigger than his
own. Nine inches easily, and uncut, just how he liked them.

Harlan smirked and stroked his cock a few times. “You like what

you see?”

“I do.”
“Then get on your knees and suck it.”

JC Holly

Mitch didn’t have to be told twice. He dropped to his knees in an

instant and wrapped a hand around the stranger’s thick cock, then ran
his tongue around the tip. Harlan growled in response.

“There’s a good boy,” he muttered.
He was clearly into being in charge, and that was how Mitch liked

it, too. After weeks of being on tour and having everyone jump to his
every word, it was a relief for someone else to take charge.

“Yes, sir,” he said, then took Harlan’s cock into his mouth.
Since he was in a rush to get to the main event he didn’t start

slow. Instead he worked fast, stroking Harlan’s balls as he bobbed up
and down on his thick shaft. He increased the depth rapidly, too, until
the tip of his cock was pushing against the back of his throat. He
relaxed and let it slip down. Harlan gasped in response.

“Well, this sure as hell ain’t your first time.”
Mitch smiled, which was no mean feat with a cock in his mouth.

He held Harlan in his throat for a count of five, then pulled back off
before doing it again. It wasn’t long before Harlan’s breathing started
to get heavier, and he pulled Mitch off with one arm.

“Bend over.”
Mitch could hardly contain his desire as he walked to the end of

the bed and put his hands on the footboard. He gripped the wooden
frame tight and took a few deep breaths as Harlan pulled lube and a
condom from a drawer. He tore the foil of the wrapper with his teeth,
then pulled the rubber over his cock, his gaze on Mitch the whole
time. The bottle in his hand, he walked around behind Mitch, then
dropped a few drops of lube onto Mitch’s asshole, massaging them in
with his finger.

“I’m gonna enjoy this,” he said.
Mitch opened his mouth to reply but could only gasp as Harlan’s

thick cock pushed against his ass. He forced himself to relax, and inch
by inch, the man slowly slid inside him.

“Fuck,” Mitch said. “You’re so big.”

The Rock Star and the Wolf

“I never tire of hearing that.” Harlan slid almost all the way out.

“You want it hard and fast?”

“Fuck, yes.”
“Yes, what?”
Mitch gritted his teeth. “Yes, sir.”
“That’s more like it.”
Harlan slid his cock all the way back into Mitch, then began

working up to a fast pace, his balls slapping against thigh as he
slammed into Mitch’s tight ass over and over. Mitch held on to the
footboard with one hand and jerked his cock with the over, trying to
keep in time with Harlan’s thrusting.

“Yes,” Mitch cried. “Fuck, just like that.”
“Take it, fucking slut,” Harlan growled in response, his speed

increasing.

Mitch only groaned in response and focused on staying upright.

He got the feeling that if he was knocked over from the force, all
Harlan would do was fuck him on the ground instead. The guy was an
animal, treating Mitch like his personal sex toy.

And Mitch was loving every fucking second.
They went on for what seemed like hours to Mitch, each geeing

the other on with muttered obscenities and veiled words of
encouragement, but it eventually came to a close. Mitch felt his
orgasm rising, and Harlan must have felt similar, as his speed
increased further still. Just as Mitch felt like he had to come, Harlan
pulled his cock out and turned Mitch around and pushed him to his
knees, then tore the condom away. A moment later a torrent of cum
erupted from his cock, splashing against Mitch’s face, neck, and
chest. That was the final straw for him, and he came too, adding to the
pools of cum on his body.

As soon as Harlan was finished, his mood lightened. Gone was the

aggressive attitude he’d had during sex. With a smile, he gestured
toward the bathroom.

JC Holly

“There are clean towels in there. Jump in the shower if you want, I

won’t bother you.”

“Oh, right. Thanks.”
Mitch headed into the bathroom and ran the shower. It wasn’t the

hottest, but it was hot enough. He quickly cleaned himself up and
toweled himself off before retrieving his clothes from the front room.

“You need a new dressing?” Harlan said, still naked and sitting on

the bed, pointing to Mitch’s arm. “I have a first aid kit in the car.”

Mitch noticed that the bandage was half hanging off, soaked with

water. “Oh. I keep forgetting it’s there.”

“I guess it doesn’t hurt, then.” Harlan turned his head to see it

better. “From what I can see it looks a bit nasty.”

“It’s fine.” Mitch pulled the bandage off and threw it in the nearby

trash can. “In fact, it… Oh.”

The wound was noticeably smaller than it had been, and most of

the redness was gone. It looked more like a small dog bite than a wolf
bite, now.

“Weird,” he muttered to himself, then looked up at Harlan. “It’s

fine. Really. I don’t even need the bandage.”

Harlan nodded. “You know, I knew someone who had a bite like

that. Weirdest thing. He was attacked one night by something, and he
had this big old hole in his leg. Shrank within a few days, and after
that he couldn’t even see the scar.” He chuckled. “Said it was a
werewolf bite.”

Mitch smirked. The wound may be baffling, but it wasn’t

supernatural. “Weird.”

“Yeah. Well, I’m sure you have places to be.”
“Oh, yeah.” He patted his pocket and found his wallet. “I’ll get a

cab back to my place. Thanks for the fun. Hell of a night.”

“Sure thing.” Harlan plucked a card from the top of his dresser.

“I’m in the area for a few days. If you like you can gimme a call and
I’ll come fuck your brains out.”

The Rock Star and the Wolf

“I dunno how long I’ll be in town.” He took the card and slipped it

into his pocket. “And I’m more of a one-time guy.”

“Come on, now.” Harlan grinned. “I promise not to ask for any

autographs.”

Mitch’s stomach dropped. “You know who I am?”
Harlan laughed. “How could I not? Doesn’t make a difference to

me, though. A man has needs, whether he’s a nobody like me or
Mitch Shaw, the world-famous singer.”

Mitch eyed the door. “Yeah, well. I gotta go.”
“Sure. Well, whether you call or not, it was a fun night.”
Mitch smiled and nodded, then let himself out and headed to the

motel’s reception to call a cab.

* * * *

Harlan watched Mitch walk away through the room’s net curtains,

then tidied the room. Damn, he’d needed that fuck, but he had a
feeling he was going to pay for it sooner or later.

Mitch was becoming a shifter, and it wouldn’t be long before he

needed help. Ideally it would be Harlan that would help him. Now
that they’d met and fucked, though, he’d also have to explain why he
didn’t tell Mitch at their first meeting.

“Ugh.” He kicked his discarded clothes into the corner and sat on

the bed. “Why do I make life harder on myself?”

He could’ve met the guy in the bar, turned down the offer of sex

and somehow swung the conversation to his arm. Couldn’t he have?
Maybe Mitch would have lost interest, and Harlan would have gotten
nowhere.

“What’s done is done.” He bent to pull on his jeans and boots.

“Bitching about it won’t change a thing.”

He’d coached new shifters before and would probably do so again

in the future. After giving them a number, all he could do was watch
and wait. Since Mitch would be off to bed now, though, he could only

JC Holly

wait. He picked his phone up and set it to vibrate, then rifled in his
bag for the case.

It was a case he’d made for himself. It clipped around his neck,

and stretched to suit his wolf form, while still keeping the phone to
his neck so he could feel it vibrate if someone called. He’d dyed the
material a similar color to his fur, so that if he was spotted
somewhere, they’d probably not spot the pouch.

For now he tossed it into his pocket and headed to the car, pulling

on his shirt as he went. The night was cool, a stiff breeze rolling in
from somewhere, bringing a multitude of scents and sounds with it.
Harlan stopped by the car for a moment to sift through the smells.
There were no shifters in the area other than himself. He stood there a
little longer, just to make sure, then climbed into the car and started
the engine.

In his line of work, it paid to be careful, even when he wasn’t

strictly on the clock. The problem with hunting down shifters and
meting out punishments based on old laws was that the shifters’ packs
often took exception. Several times he’d had to explain his actions to
an angry alpha and often fight his way out of the meeting. While most
packs respected the old laws, even if they didn’t believe in The
Ancients, they didn’t like having an outsider come in to serve as
judge, jury, and executioner.

The traffic was light so late at night, which also cut down on

scents, allowing Harlan to wind down a window and let his nose
guide him. He hadn’t visited the city before, so he didn’t know how
best to get to the nearby forests. His nose rarely steered him wrong,
though.

Within twenty minutes trees appeared in between the buildings

ahead, and Harlan found a quiet parking lot that didn’t appear to be
overlooked by too many windows. To be sure, though, he locked the
car up and headed into the trees before undressing, leaving his clothes
hanging from a low branch. He checked his phone, then slid it into the
pouch and clipped it to his neck.

The Rock Star and the Wolf

Spending as much time as he did in wolf form, the shift was fast

and only mildly torturous. He certainly didn’t envy Mitch’s first
change. The pain lessened each time, but how could such radical
alterations to bone and sinew be painless? Even The Ancients
themselves still at least breathed heavy once they were finished.

Now on four paws, Harlan took a real breath for the first time

since he’d faced Brubeck. From lingering scents from animals long
gone, to the punch of old sweat that soaked his shirt, the area opened
up to him. The night seemed less dark, too, thanks to his improved
eyesight. He took a moment to get his bearings, so that he could find
his way back, then set off at a run.

As he dodged through the trees and bushes, his wolf instincts took

over, allowing him to ponder the future. Would Mitch call? And what
would happen if he did?

Harlan knew how the change to were would start for the man, as

he remembered his own change clearly. First, he’d noticed that the
wound—in Harlan’s case it had been on the leg—had started to heal
quicker than expected, and that the pain was gone within a day. After
that, a general feeling of confidence came, along with an alertness that
made him feel like he was on top of the world. After that, the senses
came in over a period of a couple of days, often joined with increased
appetite.

That was the good stuff. The other changes were related to the

body craving its first shift, but not getting it because the human didn’t
know they could shift. Harlan had suffered badly with mood swings
and explosive rage prior to his first shift and had almost wound up in
prison because of it. Mitch wouldn’t get that far, though. Harlan
wouldn’t allow it.

No, even if the guy never called, Harlan would follow him and

make sure he got through the change with as little hardship as
possible. He owed it to the guy. After all, if he’d got to Brubeck just a
couple of minutes earlier, Mitch would have never been bit.

JC Holly

A buzzing against his neck pulled Harlan out of his reverie.

Someone was calling him. He slowed to a jog, then to a full stop,
before shifting back to human form. He pulled the phone from the
pouch and snapped it open.

“Hello?”
“Harlan.”
Harlan winced. It was his handler. The man never called unless

something was wrong. “Chris. What’s up?”

“A meeting is required. Friends of a certain gentleman seek

answers.”

That was Chris-speak for “some of Brubeck’s pack are pissed.”

Harlan didn’t even realize the man had a pack. He’d been tracking
Brubeck for some time before the kill, and he’d never met the same
person twice.

“Set it up,” Harlan said, before snapping the phone shut again.
Damn it. That’s just what he needed.

The Rock Star and the Wolf

Chapter Five

Mitch woke the next morning to a foggy head and a rumbling

stomach. He opened one sleep-filled eye and stared at the ceiling of
his hotel room while he put together the events of last night.

“Bar, cute guy, sex, hotel, food, sleep.” He yawned. “About

covers it.”

He scratched at his wrist and frowned when he found no bandage.

He pulled his arm from under the covers to inspect it and found
nothing more than a crescent of scar tissue with Carr’s thick black
thread poking through the skin. He chewed at his lip as he brought the
wound closer to his face.

“Carr must have done something other than just stitch it,” he

muttered.

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, he bit at the knot on the

stitches, then pulled them out. It hurt less than he’d expected, but it
was hardly a fun sensation. The phone rang as he was halfway done,
and he put it on speaker while he finished.

“Hey,” he said.
“Hey, it’s Carr. You coming, or what?”
“Coming?”
“The airport, man! We said we’d be in the lobby ready at nine. It’s

nine thirty.”

“Fuck.”
After he’d come home last night, they had all met in his room and

discussed where they were going. At the time Mitch had been half
asleep already and had just agreed with the consensus. They had
agreed to head out the next morning and fly to the Bahamas. As soon

JC Holly

as they had left, though, Mitch had passed out and forgotten all about
it.

He could have been ready in ten minutes, but at that moment the

last thing he wanted to do was drive to an airport and hang around all
morning for a flight.

“So?” Carr asked, his voice impatient.
“Uh, you guys go on without me. I’ll be down in a day or two.

Some stuff came up,” he lied.

Mitch heard Keith complain in the background, but Carr said it

was fine, and they’d see him later. Mitch hung up the phone and lay
back in bed. As he wriggled to get comfortable, something dug in his
back. He rolled to the side to find a business card between the sheets.
As he picked it up, memories of last night flashed past. Of Harlan
taking charge and holding him in place as he railed Mitch’s ass with
his thick cock.

He span the card between his fingers as he also remembered

Harlan talking about a friend of his that had been bitten by a wolf and
whose wound had shrunk and disappeared in a matter of days. It
couldn’t hurt to call the guy and ask about the attack.

He might even get a throw down out of it.

* * * *

For the third time that year, Harlan sat at a meeting surrounded by

people who wanted him dead.

He sat the end of a long mahogany table, with the upper tiers of

Brubeck’s estranged pack taking up the other spots, and pretended to
give a damn about what the alpha had to say.

“Just because he hadn’t checked in with us for a few months

doesn’t mean we disowned him,” the powerful looking man said, his
growl of a voice like sandpaper. “And when someone moves against
one of us, we sure as hell don’t lie down and take it.”

The rest of the pack nodded, murmured, or shouted their assent.

The Rock Star and the Wolf

The alpha leant forward and jabbed a finger toward Harlan. “What

gave you the right to kill him, based on unfounded assumptions?”

“He was guilty of contravening the rules of The Ancients. As I

told Brubeck, that meant his life was forfeit.”

The place erupted. Men jumped to their feet, gesturing and

threatening violence, and several more moved into positions behind
Harlan so he couldn’t escape. The alpha waved a hand and they
quieted, but their anger remained, bubbling beneath the surface.

The alpha began listing reasons why Brubeck couldn’t have done

what he was accused of, and why Harlan was a fool and a murderer.
Something like that, anyway. That was the general order. Harlan
wasn’t actually paying much attention. He’d let them bluster, then
give them the photos and evidence he collected over the time he
stalked Brubeck, and either they’d shut the hell up or he’d have to
fight his way out. He’d heard it all before.

As his mind wandered back to the night before, his phone vibrated

and he glanced at the screen to find he had a text message.

Hey, Harlan, it’s Mitch from last night. Wondered if you wanted

to meet up? Wanted to chat, and maybe see where things go from
there.

Harlan restrained the urge to grin and instead turned his attention

back to the meeting. Once he was done he’d reply and arrange a time.

By the looks of the crowd, he wasn’t going to get out without a

fight. Time to find out. He pulled a USB memory stick from his
pocket and slid it down the table. It stopped an inch from the end and
the alpha picked it up, frowning.

“That stick contains photos, videos, and map data of Brubeck’s

travels, along with corresponding news reports of so-called vicious
dog attacks.” Harlan stood and smoothed his shirt. “It also contains an
audio recording of the man’s final conversation with me. Something I
do with every suspect. If that’s not enough for you, tough shit. Now,
if you’ll excuse me I have places to be.”

JC Holly

He turned to leave the room only for two men to step into his path.

He turned back to the alpha, an eyebrow raised.

“You’re not going anywhere until I’ve corroborated this,” the

large man said. “Now sit back down.”

Harlan sighed and shook his head. “I have more important things

to do than wait around while you fact check.”

“You sit, or we make you sit.”
“I’d like to see you try.”
The alpha laughed. “You may think yourself something special

because The Ancients pay you to murder, but you’re still one man.”

“The Ancients hired me because I’m very good at what I do.” He

cracked his neck. “And then they made me even better.”

The two men with hands on his shoulders squeezed, trying to push

him to the ground. He responded by slamming his elbows into their
chests. As they staggered back he jumped up onto the edge of the
table, then flipped backwards in a somersault, landing behind the two
men. Before they could turn he jabbed them both in the kidneys,
dropping them like stones.

The rest of the pack were on their feet in an instant, moving

toward him as one. He held out his left hand and willed his blade into
existence, then held out the right and willed another. The pack
slowed.

“I don’t want to fight, and I certainly don’t want to kill,” he said,

his gaze directly on the alpha. “But if your boys come any closer, I’ll
put a blade between your eyes.” He tossed one blade into the table
and willed yet another to appear in his now empty hand. “And then
I’ll do the same to everyone else.”

The alpha’s eyes were wide, but he waved his men back. “What

the hell are you?”

“I’m a shifter.” Harlan smiled and turned back to the door. “With

extras.”

Despite his confidence that he wouldn’t be followed, Harlan

didn’t dawdle on his walk back to the car. He dismissed the blades as

The Rock Star and the Wolf

soon as he left the building, so as not to create a scene, then jogged
across the parking lot and was away into traffic within another
minute.

The blades always swayed things in his favor. While shifters

weren’t allergic to silver like the stories told, the metal attracted
attention. And a knife was still a knife, regardless of its color, and
these could cut through anything.

They, or rather the ability to produce them, had been a gift after

his tenth successful hunt. The “transference,” as his handler had
called the process of giving the ability, had been excruciating, and had
left Harlan incapacitated for a week as the magics were forced into
every cell in his body. Even thinking back to it made him wince. The
blades had saved his life on more than one occasion, though, and the
pride of being trusted enough by The Ancients to bestow them more
than made up for the occasional nightmare.

As he pulled up to a red light, he texted Mitch back.
Sure. My place again? H.
As he sent it, he swore. After the meeting with Brubeck’s pack, he

needed to keep a low profile for a day or two, and that meant moving
motels. Thankfully the text that came back almost immediately solved
the issue.

How about my place at six? I have a minibar and all the towels

you can stuff in a suitcase.

Harlan laughed and made a note of the address that was at the end

of the text, along with who to ask for at the desk, then pulled away
from the light and headed back to his motel.

JC Holly

Chapter Six

Mitch slid his phone into the back of his pants only for it to start

ringing. He pulled it back out, wondering if it was Harlan looking to
change something, then sighed as he recognized the name on the
screen. Robert Charleston, agent extraordinaire.

“Hey, Bob. What’s up?”
“Mitch!” The man drew out the i to an annoying degree. “I hear

you didn’t head out with the band. That’s great!”

Mitch rolled his eyes. Here it comes…
“Someone got wind of that information, and a local radio show is

asking if you’ll show up tonight. Around ten?”

He knew who had told the radio station. It was Bob. It was always

Bob. “No can do. I’m busy.”

“Aw, come on, man. The money’s good. More than usual, since I

pointed out you weren’t here for long.”

“Not interested. Like I said, I’m busy.”
His agent sighed, overdramatically. “Date?”
“Sort of, yeah. It’s hush-hush, though. And I don’t mean ‘one

photographer in the bushes,’ I mean no photographers on pain of
firing and a lawsuit.”

“Yeesh, chill out, Mitch. I won’t tell a soul. Promise.”
He may have been many things, but Bob was good to his word.

Probably because he knew how much money he’d lose if Mitch fired
him.

“So, you heading out tomorrow?” Bob asked.
“That’s the plan, yeah.” Mitch glanced at himself in the hotel

room’s long mirror. “Depends on tonight though, I guess.”

The Rock Star and the Wolf

“Oh, it’s that kind of date, huh? A serious one.”
“No, not really. It’s just…” He rubbed at his scar. “It’s

complicated. I’ve gotta go. Speak to you later.”

He tossed the phone onto the bed and rubbed his stubble as he

decided what to tell Harlan.

If he’d felt good last night, he’d only improved further throughout

the day. He had never felt more energetic, or stronger. Hell, even his
senses seemed to be more acute. He’d ordered breakfast that morning
and smelled it coming as soon as the waiter came out of the elevator.

As great as that was, though, there were parts he wasn’t so sure of.

He felt pent up. Like he needed to do something, but he didn’t know
what that thing was, which left him on edge all day. As a result, his
temper seemed to be shorter, leaving him frustrated by things that
wouldn’t usually piss him off.

On top of that, he’d woken horny as hell and itching for a fight.

One was easily taken care of, but Mitch wasn’t a fighter. Up until that
moment he’d never had any interest in getting into a tussle of any
kind. Not to mention that the press would be all over it. Still, the urge
remained, bubbling under the surface.

“Maybe he’ll think I’m crazy,” he muttered as he dropped the

bathrobe and pulled on a pair of jeans. “Or he’ll run to the press to
sell the story.”

Prior to the band hitting the big time, he’d been a trusting man. A

few sleazy headlines had seen to the end of that, though, leaving him
jaded and closed. This would be the first time he’d met a guy twice in
years. Usually he’d fuck them and then never see them again.

Something about Harlan made Mitch think he was different,

though. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was a sense of…
kinship? He snorted and shook his head. That sounded like something
out of a western. Still, the guy seemed different.

“That, or the booze last night fogged my head.”
As he said that, he remembered that he’d barely drank that night.

He shrugged and grabbed a few things off the floor and tossed them

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into a bag in a half-hearted attempt to tidy. He could just call a maid,
but he never liked to do that. It seemed needlessly extravagant. Easier
to do it himself, even if he could easily afford it.

Just for a moment he imagined Harlan, lying on a lounger beside

the home Mitch kept in Los Angeles. He dismissed the thought as
quickly as it came. He’d only fucked the guy. He didn’t even know
his last name.

Maybe he’d ask.

* * * *

The motel manager appeared as Harlan was loading up his car

with the few bags he’d brought with him.

“Hey, you’re not trying to skip out on me, are you?”
Harlan shook his head. “Need to leave early, though.” He tossed

the man a roll of twenties. “If anyone enquires, tell them I left town,
headed east.”

The man inspected the money, then frowned. “Couple hundred

extra, here. You must be expecting someone to come calling.”

“It’s a possibility. They won’t trouble you, though. Just tell ’em I

headed east,” he repeated.

Whether the pack would come after him or not was an unknown,

and Harlan hated unknowns. It was worth the money to ease his mind
somewhat. That said, he’d still have to keep his eyes—and ears—
open. His handler hadn’t been too pleased to hear that the pack turned
hostile, but he wasn’t that surprised either. It happened. Shifters were
as loyal as they were territorial, even if that loyalty was sometimes
misplaced.

In actual fact he was headed north for a few blocks, then stopping

at another motel. He’d also avoid any and all places he’d previously
been inside. It would be easier if he could just leave town like he’d
said, but he had to finish the job.

The Rock Star and the Wolf

The job, he mused as he pulled out of the parking lot, leaving the

bemused manager behind. As far as The Ancients were concerned, it
was his duty to make sure that Mitch was made aware of his new life
and instructed on how best to stay safe. After that he could leave. He
knew from experience that fraternizing with targets and secondary
targets was frowned upon, but he doubted any severe reprimands
would come of it.

That was if Mitch wanted to continue “fraternizing,” of course.

The guy might hear what Harlan had to say then call security. Ideally
he’d listen, learn, and ask informed questions, but life was rarely that
simple.

The last time he’d been in the same situation—minus the sex—the

new shifter had listened, asked questions, then tried to stab him in the
neck, accusing him and his “aberrations” of ruining her life. It had
taken a lot of time and no small amount of patience to finally calm her
down to the point where he could point her in the direction of a shifter
councilor trained in such cases.

Hopefully Mitch wouldn’t be the same, and not just because he

was gorgeous. Harlan had felt something during their short time
together. He could see himself spending more time with the rocker, if
Mitch felt the same.

If he didn’t, Harlan decided he’d pass on the instruction to another

shifter. He knew a few in the area that would willingly help.

A red stoplight attracted Harlan’s attention. He glanced up to find

that he was next to the new motel and pulled into the lot to rent a
room. Then he’d get changed and head off to the hotel.

* * * *

Fifteen minutes before Harlan was due to arrive, Mitch started to

panic. It happened every time he had someone come to him, rather
than him going to them. There were so many variables to worry
about. What if someone in reception started talking to him and he

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mentioned who he was visiting? What if a photographer spotted them
meeting? What if the guy he’d paid off to send Harlan up and keep his
mouth shut decided to tell all to the first newspaper in the phone
book?

“Damn it, Mitch, calm down,” he muttered to himself as he paced

the hotel room.

If all went according to plan—as it always did, he reminded

himself—Harlan would head into the lobby and ask for the concierge,
who would then give him a key and direct him to a room on the first
floor. Inside that room, hidden under a pillow, was a note with the
room number for Mitch’s room. Harlan would take it, head up in the
elevator, and then knock on the door.

Simple.
He tilted his head toward the door as he heard the elevator ping,

ignoring the fact that, at that distance, he shouldn’t be able to hear it
in the first place. Someone was on the floor, headed his way. He
licked his lips nervously as he glanced at the clock by the bed. He was
a few minutes early. A moment later there was a knock on the door
and Mitch forced himself to take a breath. It was Harlan. He just knew
it was. That sense he’d got from the man the previous night seemed to
work at a distance.

Mitch rubbed his sweaty hands on his jeans, then let the man in.
Harlan hadn’t needed to dress incognito, but he hadn’t gone out of

his way to stand out, either. He’d dressed simply, a pair of jeans, a
blue shirt, and a pair of work boots. Anyone passing him would
simply assume he was headed to his hotel room after a long day at
work. He had a pair of sunglasses hanging from the pocket of his blue
shirt. It wasn’t bright out, so Mitch assumed he’d brought them just in
case he needed to hide his face from photographers. That was more
effort than most of Mitch’s guys put in.

“Hey.” He closed the door behind them. “Any trouble getting in?”
“Nah, no problems.” Harlan smiled. “Very James Bond of you,

using another room and all.”

The Rock Star and the Wolf

Mitch shrugged. “Not my first time.”
Harlan waggled his eyebrows but didn’t reply. He gestured to the

sofa on the other side of the room. “Shall we?”

“Sure. Drink?”
“Scotch or a beer would be good.”
“A beer it is. I can call down for whisky if you want, though?”
Harlan shook his head. “Beer’s good. Saves me hiding in the

bathroom.”

“You wouldn’t have to hide in the bathroom.” Mitch grinned.

“You could hide under the bed instead.”

Harlan took the beer and flipped the top off with a thumb,

catching the cap with his other hand, then took a sip. “So, I have to
ask.”

Mitch sat on the other end of the sofa, cradling his own beer. “Ask

what?”

“Why do you hide being gay?”
He took a long drink then shrugged. “At first it was because of the

whole ‘rock persona’ thing. Those who knew told me that I’d do
better if women thought they stood a chance of fucking me.”

“Freddy Mercury managed just fine without that,” Harlan said.
“I know, and I love the guy. Like I said, that was my reason at

first.”

“And now?”
Mitch sighed. “The press. Those bastards will hound me for

months, trying to get exclusives, digging into my past to find ex-
lovers…”

Harlan nodded. “I get it. I’m more a ‘fuck ’em’ kind of guy, I

guess. Let them print what they want. It all means sales, right?”

“True. Believe me when I say I’ve thought about it a lot.”
Harlan simply smiled and sipped his beer. Usually Mitch simply

told people he didn’t want to talk about it, but that hadn’t seemed
right this time. He didn’t know why, but he thought Harlan should

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know. Thankfully the guy was good about it, too. The few guys he’d
discussed it with had often thought he was ashamed of his sexuality.

“You, uh, you want some music?”
“Sure,” Harlan said. “Whaddya got?”
Mitch grinned. “Pretty much something in every genre.”
“A man after my heart,” the man said with a laugh. “I expected

you to just say rock ’n’ roll.”

“Nah, not me.” Mitch stood and walked to his MP3 player, which

was docked into a small but overly expensive speaker—audio
hardware was one of the few extravagances he could justify. “The
other guys in the band are sort of like that, but I believe in keeping my
horizons broad.”

Harlan smiled at that, and seemed to relax a little, too. Odd. Mitch

mentally shrugged it off and bent by the dresser to turn on the music
player. “So, what are you in the mood for?”

“Right now, with you bent over? It ain’t music on my mind.”
Mitch rolled his eyes at the man. “Play nice and maybe you’ll get

what you’re after later.”

Harlan held up his beer. “I’ll drink to that. How about something

bluesy?”

“I can do that.” He selected an album, then sat back beside Harlan

as the music started. “Good?”

Harlan smiled. “Aretha Franklin. You have taste.”
Mitch grinned. “You wouldn’t believe how much music I own.

It’s my hobby.”

“A good hobby to have.” Harlan nodded at the arm Mitch held his

beer in. “I see the scar is shrinking.” He sipped some of his own beer.
“That why you called?”

Mitch chewed his bottom lip, then nodded. “Kinda, yeah.”
“Kinda?”
He colored. “Well, I was hoping after we talked about that, we’d

make use of this here bed…”

The Rock Star and the Wolf

Harlan raised an eyebrow. “Well, I guess that depends on how this

conversation goes.”

Mitch frowned at the somewhat cryptic comment, but let it drop

for now. “So, yeah. The scar shrank way quicker than they normally
do. The pain faded fast, too. You mentioned that a friend had been
bitten and had a similar thing happen.”

“I did.”
The man had changed in the last few seconds. His jovial body

language was gone, replaced with a more serious posture and
expression.

“I–is it bad?” Mitch asked. His gut churned at the thought. Was he

going to say the friend died?

“Yes and no,” Harlan said. “Let me make a few guesses here.”
Mitch swallowed the rest of his beer. “Okay.”
“You’ve been noticing other things. At first it was minor. You

woke feeling better than you normally do. Maybe you were hungry,
too.”

Mitch nodded, but didn’t reply.
Harlan placed his bottle on the floor, and took Mitch’s and did the

same. “You noticed your hearing was a little sharper? Along with
your sense of smell?” He nodded when Mitch did. “Thought so.
Those two senses are the most noticeable. If you’d been a glasses
wearer you’d notice your eyesight sharpening, too.”

Mitch’s heart started to beat faster. Harlan knew more about this

than he’d mentioned the previous night. What the hell was going on?

Harlan bent to fiddle with his pant leg. “I don’t have a friend that

was bitten.”

“What?”
He let out a breath, then raised his trouser leg to reveal a faint

jagged scar. “I was bitten.” He looked Mitch in the eye. “You were
attacked by a werewolf.”

JC Holly

Chapter Seven

Mitch just stared at Harlan as his mind churned. His first thought

was that it was a joke, or that Harlan was deluded. The man had been
bitten by a wolf at some point, and it had scared him so much that his
mind had snapped. That had to be it, right?

But he knew. He knew what Mitch had been going through. The

increased appetite, the sharper senses, the overall sense of being
stronger than he was before he’d got onto the tour bus that night.

“That’s…” He moistened his suddenly dry lips. “That’s not

possible. Werewolves aren’t real, Harlan.”

Harlan dropped his trouser leg and sat back, his face impassive.

“Aren’t they?”

“No, they’re fucking not!”
Mitch jumped to his feet and began to pace the room, converting

his anger into pacing. Harlan kept his seat, still calm despite Mitch’s
outburst.

“Think about it, Mitch,” he said. “Think about how many wolves

are spotted in cities these days. Or newspaper articles about
bystanders seeing people getting hit by cars and walking away like it
was nothing.”

Mitch shook his head, but he did remember seeing a similar article

a few days ago. Someone had fallen from a third-story window,
landed on a car, then ran away before anyone could ask if he was
okay. The paper assumed the guy was high, but what if he’d been
something else?

“And you’re telling me that now that I’ve been bitten, I’m a

werewolf, too.”

The Rock Star and the Wolf

“Yes. Though we prefer the term shifter. I just used werewolf to

make it easier to understand.”

Mitch shook his head again, still pacing. “Then why hasn’t it been

in the news? Surely if every time a werew—, shifter, bit someone,
they turned, it’d make its way to the papers eventually.”

“Shifters avoid risky targets usually, which helps a lot. On top of

that, we have people in most major news outlets that can make the
stories disappear. And it’s not every time. A shifter has to want to turn
someone.”

Mitch stopped pacing. “Wait. So this bastard who bit me wanted

to make me like him? Why?”

Harlan sighed and held up his hands. “I don’t know what to tell

you. The guy was a cunt. He’d done it before.”

“You’re using the past tense.”
“Huh?”
“You said he was a cunt.”
Harlan nodded. “He’s dead.”
“By that other wolf.” Mitch snorted. “At least he got what was

coming to him.”

“That he did.”
“How did you know he bit me?”
Harlan colored. “Well, uh…”
“You knew him?”
“Not exactly.” Harlan glanced away, avoiding eye contact. “I was

the other wolf.”

“What?”
“Yeah. It’s my job to hunt down renegade shifters and bring them

to justice. That’s the quick version, anyway.” He frowned. “I tried to
get to him before he bit you. I’m sorry.”

Mitch sat heavily on the edge of the bed as his brain tried to

process the information. Not only was he bitten by a fucking
werewolf, but the guy he met in a bar the night after was a freaking

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werewolf cop. He looked across the room to Harlan as it came
together.

“So when we met in the bar, you were looking for me.”
Harlan nodded once.
“Why?”
“It’s my job,” he said, simply.
“To fuck the victims of your targets?”
Harlan winced. “No. Never that. That just…” He shook his head

and punched the arm of the sofa, splintering it like it was balsa wood
and not solid mahogany. “That just happened. My job was, and is, to
watch over you and make sure you adapt to the change without any
problems. I hadn’t intended anything more. Hell, I didn’t even know
you were gay. I went into that bar in the hopes I’d get lucky before I
started scouting the straight bars for you.”

Mitch smirked. He couldn’t help it. The thought was ridiculous.

He shook his head and chuckled. “And then you saw me in a booth
and decided to mix business with pleasure?”

“Pretty much.” Harlan shrugged. “I’ve done dumber things in the

past, believe me.”

“Oh, I’ve no doubt,” Mitch replied, but he was smiling as he said

it.

Harlan smiled back and the air of tension between them seemed to

lift a little. Mitch stood again and walked to the minibar.

“I need a drink.”
“You’ll need several.” Harlan smirked as Mitch gave him a

querying look. “Shifters have a very high metabolism. It’s why you’re
hungrier than before. It also means it takes more effort to get drunk.”

“I don’t know whether that’s a good or bad thing.”
Mitch pulled the rest of the six-pack from the fridge and split

them between him and Harlan, two each. He twisted the cap from one
and downed half in one long swallow.

“This is fucked up,” he muttered.
Harlan said nothing, instead watching him.

The Rock Star and the Wolf

“What?” Mitch asked after a few moments.
“You’re handling it better than most.”
“Less ‘handling,’ more ‘too shocked to process it,’ I think.” He

drank more of his beer. “Prove it.”

Harlan frowned. “Huh?”
“Prove that you’re a shifter, and that, by extension, I am too.”
“You’ve felt the changes already, Mitch.”
“But I haven’t seen them. Shift for me.”
Harlan was silent for a few long seconds, his fingers tapping on

the crushed arm of the sofa. “That’s not… I have an order in which I
teach. Shifting comes further down the line.”

Mitch shrugged. “Time to switch things up, then.”
The man was silent again. Just as Mitch was going to tell him to

say something, Harlan stood and moved to the door, flipping the
security lock. He turned back to Mitch and gestured to the curtains. A
sliver of light came through the gap between them. It was small, but
Mitch understood the need for privacy and pulled them shut.

“Okay?”
Harlan nodded, then started to undress. “Believe me when I say

the shift ain’t pretty. You’ll want to look away, or you’ll probably
never get the courage to shift yourself.”

Mitch gritted his teeth as his stomach clenched. He hadn’t even

considered that he was now capable of becoming a wolf. Up to that
point he’d focused entirely on the smaller changes, like the increased
senses. What am I getting myself into?

“All right,” he finally said. “But I can watch you strip, right?”
Harlan laughed and shook his head. “Fine. But when I say close

your eyes, you’d better close your damn eyes.”

Mitch restrained a shiver on hearing Harlan’s commanding tone.

“You’re the boss. Or teacher,” he added with a wink.

Harlan slowly removed his shirt, revealing his taut torso one

button at a time. Mitch took in every inch from his seat. He growled
softly at the thought of jumping the bed and getting his hands on that

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body. Of pushing him to the bed, tearing his pants off, and riding the
man till he howled. Harlan paused at the sound.

“Someone’s having very naughty thoughts.”
Mitch colored. “That obvious?”
“Your emotions are closer to the surface now. Hence the growl.”

Harlan tossed his shirt onto the bed. “You’ll regain control. Most of it,
anyway. Just takes time. In the meantime, I’m sure the odd growl is
no big deal to the singer of a rock band.”

His hands moved to his jeans and he worked his belt free,

followed by the fly, then slid the pants down off his hips, revealing
the fact that he wasn’t wearing anything under them. Mitch licked his
lips at the sight of Harlan’s thick cock. Even soft it was bigger than
most men’s.

“Time to close your eyes,” Harlan said after a short while. “If

you’re done staring.”

“For now,” Mitch said with a smile. “Though I may want to pick

up where I left off later.”

He closed his eyes and, after a moment, turned away to face the

wall, too, just in case he was tempted. Harlan had seemed pretty
serious about not wanting Mitch to look, and given the whole “turning
into another species” thing, it was probably a very wise suggestion.

He heard Harlan take a deep breath, then winced as a crackling

sound started, quiet at first, then building in volume. Mitch hunched
up and turned further away. He knew what that sound had to be—the
breaking and reforming of every bone in Harlan’s body. God only
knew how much it had to hurt. Harlan noticeably hadn’t mentioned
that part.

After a handful of seconds, the sound disappeared, replaced with

only heavy breathing. It sounded wrong, though. Not human. It was at
that point he realized that they hadn’t agreed upon a signal for when
Mitch could look.

“Can I, uh…” He swallowed hard. “Can I look now?”

The Rock Star and the Wolf

There was a low chuff, like a dog would make at its owner when it

wanted attention. Mitch took a breath and turned back, then opened
his eyes.

“Holy fucking shit!”
Where Harlan had stood sat a familiar-looking large brown and

grey wolf. On instinct, Mitch tried to back up further onto the sofa,
bringing his feet up onto the seat. The wolf made no move toward
him, and after telling himself he was being ridiculous, Mitch dropped
his feet back to the floor.

“Sorry. Reflex. The last time I saw you like this, I was being

attacked.” He shook his head and took a few breaths. “Uh, you can
understand me, right?”

The wolf, Harlan, nodded once, his long tail thudded from side to

side, knocking against the bed.

“Okay, this is…” Mitch laughed nervously. “This is fucking

bizarre.”

Harlan nodded again, then stood and moved one step toward the

sofa before pausing and cocking his head to one side, as if he was
curious. Or asking a question?

“Oh, you want to know if you can come closer?” Another nod.

“Sure.”

Mitch watched in amazement as the wolf padded over to him and

placed his head on the seat of the sofa. Heart pounding like Theo’s
drums in rehearsals, Mitch took another deep breath and reached over
cautiously, then stroked the fur on Harlan’s large head.

“This is crazy.” Mitch moved a little closer. “I mean, hearing

about it is one thing, and having these little changes in my body is
another…but this? Seeing it? Fuck.”

Harlan made no movements or sounds. He just sat next to Mitch

as he ran his fingers through the brown and grey fur. It was thick but
still had a smoothness to it, too. He wondered whether the color
reflected Harlan’s hair in his human form. While Harlan had no grey

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himself, the coat was only lightly dusted with it. Perhaps it was an age
thing. The man looked thirty or so, but did shifters age differently?

“I have so many questions,” Mitch said. “And you can’t answer

them. Like, can you only change at night? How long can you stay this
way? Can you change back whenever you want? What happens if you
fall asleep like this?”

Harlan chuffed once, stood again, then walked toward the

bathroom. Mitch frowned as the wolf disappeared into the other room.
The crackling explained what was happening, though, and moments
later Harlan appeared, his breathing ragged.

“The change takes a lot out of you,” he explained as he walked

back to the sofa and sat. “You recover from it in a short amount of
time, but if you’re changing back and forth quickly like that it can be
a drain.”

Mitch nodded and tried to keep his gaze aimed above the naked

Harlan’s neck. “You realize how fucked up this is, right?”

Harlan laughed and nodded. “It’ll take a little adjusting to. Now,

what do you want to know?”

The Rock Star and the Wolf

Chapter Eight

“How about we start with the ones I asked when you were, uh,

wolfed,” Mitch said.

Harlan ignored the aches in his bones and muscles and focused on

Mitch. The questions were the typical ones that every new shifter
asked, but since the guy knew nothing Harlan could hardly take
offence.

“We can shift whenever we like, but as I said, it can be draining to

do it too often. When shifted, though, there is no time limit. We can
stay a wolf until the day we die with no issues whatsoever. Some
have.”

“Really?” Mitch’s eyes widened. “They gave up life?”
Harlan smiled. “They didn’t give it up. More that they changed its

focus. It can be appealing to spend a lot of time as a wolf.
Considerably less stress and worries, for one thing. Everything is so
simple. Eat, sleep, repeat.”

“I guess.”
“You’ll understand more after your first shift.” He held up a hand

as Mitch paled. “Though there’s no real rush there. We’ll deal with it
when it happens.”

That seemed to relax the man a little. Given what he’d just

experienced, or heard anyway, he was no doubt rightly worried.

“And just to allay any worries, it’s not something you can fuck up,

and there’s no way you’ll get stuck as a wolf. It’s impossible.”

Mitch nodded. “That helps.”
Harlan reached over and squeezed the man’s hand. “Any more

questions?”

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“About a billion, but I’ll try and condense it into a few.”
He cocked his head to one side. “There’s a rush?”
“You can ask that? While you’re sat in front of me with your cock

out?” Mitch waggled his eyebrows.

Harlan glanced down at his stiffening cock, then grinned. “Ah.

Yeah. Forgot. So you’re not put off?”

Mitch shrugged. “Right now, you’re human. And cute.”
“Fair enough. So, your condensed inquisition?”
“Well I know we get better senses, more appetite, and the like.

But what about speed and strength?” He pointed to the destroyed sofa
arm. “Is that from the shifter…ness, or from you working out?”

“That’s shifter blood at work. And, uh, sorry.” Harlan smiled

sheepishly. “I’ll pay for the repair.”

“Please,” Mitch said. “I’m a fucking rockstar. I’ll pay. It’s

expected of me to trash a few things, anyway.”

Harlan laughed and tried not to think too hard about how much

money the man sat next to him had in his bank account. Whenever
Harlan used an ATM it laughed at him. The Ancients covered his
expenses, and even bought him a house, but the wages weren’t
exactly in line with the danger of the job, or modern-day inflation.

“So yeah,” Harlan said quickly. “You’ll get stronger and faster

over the next week or two, then it’ll increase gradually until the day
you die. How much varies, though. Depends on the wolf who bit you.
You’re also immune to all diseases.”

Mitch nodded, though the memory clearly still pained him. “How

strong was the guy who bit me?”

“I can’t say for sure, but he’d been active for at least a few

decades. Probably a hundred or so?”

Mitch’s jaw dropped. “A hundred?”
Harlan shrugged. “Ish.”
“How the hell long can a shifter live for?”
“Again, it varies. I know a couple that are a few hundred, and one

Irish guy that’s closer to five.”

The Rock Star and the Wolf

The surviving Ancients were considerably older still, but Harlan

had sworn an oath not to reveal such information to anyone he wasn’t
intending to then kill, and The Ancients took their oaths very
seriously.

Mitch just shook his head in disbelief. “And you?”
Harlan smirked. “Didn’t anyone tell you it’s rude to ask

someone’s age? Are you sure you want to know?”

The man paused, before nodding. “I’ve dated older guys before. It

won’t bother me.” He winked. “Besides, teachers should be old,
right? More wisdom.”

“Fair enough. I’m a youngster, compared to some. I was thirty

when I was bitten, and that was sixty-five years ago. So ninety-five.”

“That’s not so bad. Still the oldest guy I’ve slept with, though.”
“I should bloody well hope so.”
Mitch laughed, then frowned. “So if you’re so young,

comparatively, how did you beat the guy who attacked me?”

“Like I said, the power of a shifter depends upon the wolf who bit

him or her.”

“And you were bitten by someone powerful.”
The most powerful. “Exactly. Plus, I’m trained to fight and have

both experience and a little help.”

“Help?”
Harlan glanced at the closed curtains and door again, just to be

sure, then willed a blade into his hand, then handed it, handle first, to
a gaping Mitch.

“We can do that?” He turned the blade in the light. “Silver. Makes

sense. And so light.”

“I can do that. It was a gift from my bosses.” Harlan willed the

blade to disappear, making Mitch jump. “Oh, and shifters are no more
susceptible to silver than anyone else. A knife is a knife, though.”

“So, to recap,” Mitch said, leaning forward on the sofa. “Not only

are you a shifter, you’re a badass.”

Harlan nodded, solemnly. “I can also juggle.”

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Mitch laughed, then dropped a hand onto Harlan’s bare thigh.

“Even better.”

Harlan glanced down at Mitch’s hand as it slid toward his

hardening cock. God, he was hornier than he’d realized. Still, after the
revelations Mitch had been witness to, Harlan had to be sure the guy
was willing to be taught, and sex could complicate a teacher and
student relationship. Mitch’s fingers moved closer.

On the other hand…
Harlan licked his lips. “If you touch it, you’re stuck with me until

I decide you’re ready to go it alone.”

Mitch only smiled as he grasped Harlan’s cock and lowered his

head. Harlan growled softly as he felt Mitch’s tongue run over the
head of his cock.

“I’ll take that as an agreement,” he muttered, before gently

grasping the back of Mitch’s head. “Now be a good student and suck
until I tell you to stop.”

“Yes, teacher,” Mitch replied before putting his mouth to another

use.

Harlan stiffened as the man’s lips wrapped around his cock and

slid down the shaft. “Take it slow,” he growled. “I’m in no rush to
come.”

Mitch did as he was told and took his time as he bobbed up and

down. With a free hand he massaged Harlan’s balls, using the other
hand to keep himself stable while he worked. Harlan put his head
back against the couch and let out a long breath.

There’s a world-famous rockstar sucking my cock.
He kept his hand on the back of Mitch’s head as the man worked.

He’d enjoyed being ordered around last time, and that sure as hell
worked for Harlan, too. In day-to-day stuff he wasn’t interested in
being in charge, but when it came to the bedroom it enhanced every
moment.

“Keep it up,” he said, pushing down a little as Mitch slid back

down his shaft. “That’s it. Good boy.”

The Rock Star and the Wolf

Things had gone a lot better than he could have hoped for, he

decided. He’d got a student who knew how to take instructions, who
just happened to also be a great fuck. He leant over Mitch and reached
down his back to the back of the man’s pants. He pulled them as far
away from his back as he could, then willed a knife into existence and
quickly cut the material before dismissing the knife. He slid the now
much looser pants down over Mitch’s ass and slapped a cheek.

“Did I mention last time that you have a great ass?” he asked,

though Mitch was in no position to reply. “Because you do.”

He took the back of Mitch’s shirt in his hands and tore it in two,

then pulled it around the front. Mitch shifted his hands to allow the
removal of the ruined clothing, but kept working. Harlan tossed the
shirt to the floor.

“Take off your pants,” he said, his voice thick with desire.
Mitch reached back and slid his pants down, then kicked them off,

one leg at a time. The whole time he kept sucking Harlan’s cock, not
even altering his speed. Harlan smirked.

“You have talent,” he said, as he reached down to run his fingers

over Mitch’s stiff cock. “Okay, stand up.”

Mitch pulled away from Harlan’s cock, smiling as he stood.

“What does teacher want now?”

Harlan grinned as he stroked his cock. “Got any lube?”
Mitch crossed to the bed’s dresser and pulled out a bottle and a

condom, then smirked and dropped the condom back into the drawer
and slid it shut. Harlan threw him a questioning glance.

“You said yourself we’re immune to everything,” Mitch said as he

tossed the lube over. “Might as well make the most of it.”

Harlan couldn’t help but growl in excitement. Sex with a condom

was all well and good, but compared to taking a man bareback it
paled in comparison.

“Where do you want me?” Mitch said, stroking his own cock as

he waited for instruction.

“On my cock.” Harlan worked his shaft with a little lube. “Now.”

JC Holly

Mitch quickly crossed the distance between them and climbed

onto the seat, his knees either side of Harlan’s thighs, facing him with
a smile. He lowered himself down slowly and Harlan guided his cock
into position, then watched the man’s face as he pushed down.

“Fuck,” Mitch groaned, as Harlan’s cockhead slipped inside him.
“You like that?” Harlan murmured in the man’s ear. “Hmm?”
“Yes,” Mitch hissed. “Yes, teacher.”
“Lower.” Harlan slapped his hands onto Mitch’s waist and began

to push down. “Take it all like a good little slut.”

Mitch moaned at Harlan’s words. “God, yes. I’m your fucking

slut.”

“You’re mine entirely,” Harlan said as he pushed his hips up.

“Whatever I tell you to do, you do it.”

“Yes!” Mitch hissed again. “Whatever you say.”
Mitch gripped the back of the sofa to steady himself as he worked

up and down the shaft, leaving his head close to Harlan’s. He nipped
the man’s ear as he slid deeper inside Mitch’s tight ass. The man
quickly took Harlan’s entire length, which was impressive in itself if
his past partners had been any indication, and began to slide up and
down the shaft, moaning as he did.

Harlan kept his hands on the man’s hips and they found an easy

rhythm that was comfortable for both. As much as Harlan talked
about being in command, he didn’t want to hurt Mitch. In fact, as
much as he didn’t want to admit it, he’d already developed feelings
for the guy beyond the teacher-and-student, and two-night-stand
relationship they found themselves in. He wondered if Mitch felt
similar but quickly dismissed it, focusing on the now, rather than the
future.

He gripped a little tighter on Mitch’s narrow waist and pushed up

a little harder. Mitch didn’t complain, so he did it again, then sped his
actions.

“Take my cock,” he said as he thrust up into Mitch. “Fucking take

it.”

The Rock Star and the Wolf

“My ass is yours,” Mitch said, his eyes shut. “Fuck my brains

out.”

“Oh, I will,” Harlan said. “And then I’m going to come in your

ass.”

Mitch groaned in response and bit his bottom lip.
“Oh, you like the idea of that, don’t you.” Harlan slammed his

cock deeper into Mitch. “Hmm? Taking my load like the little
cumslut you are?”

“Mmm hmm,” was all Mitch could say in reply, Harlan’s words or

movements obviously stealing speech from him.

“I’m going to fuck you, come inside you, and then throw you into

the shower,” Harlan said, his breath ragged. “And then… Then I’m
going to fuck you again.”

Mitch groaned and ground down on Harlan’s cock. It was

Harlan’s turn to be speechless as Mitch gripped his neck and pulled
him close, kissing him hard on the lips. Harlan resisted, but only for
an instant, before kissing the man back. He wasn’t much of a kisser,
but this felt right. Mitch clearly agreed, as once he broke the kiss he
redoubled his work, bouncing on Harlan’s cock as he gazed into his
eyes.

Far too soon Harlan felt the beginnings of his orgasm. He could

slow, but he didn’t want to. He wanted to feel himself come inside
Mitch, and he wanted to feel it now. He began to speed his actions
and dropped one hand onto Mitch’s cock, working it feverishly. Mitch
gasped in surprise, then gritted his teeth. He was close, too, it
appeared. Harlan sped his hand on the man’s cock, working the shaft
hard while Mitch worked Harlan’s. Before long, Mitch cried out, and
hot ropes of cum hit Harlan in the chest. Harlan tried to hold back
while he worked the last drops from Mitch’s cock, but he quickly
reached his limit and roared as he came hard, deep inside Mitch’s ass.

“Fuck,” he said, his hands back on Mitch’s waist as he slammed

the man down on his cock. “That’s it, work it all out.”

JC Holly

As his cock finished pulsing, he pulled Mitch down his shaft again

and then pulled him into a tight embrace. They both said nothing,
only breathing heavily, for what felt like an age, then Mitch pulled
away from the hug, a smile on his lips.

“Well now, that was something.”
Harlan laughed and nodded. “Definitely was.” He let go of

Mitch’s hips so that the man could climb off his cock, then sat back
on the sofa and let out a sigh. “I needed that.”

“Me too,” Mitch said. “Nothing clears a full head quicker than a

good fuck.”

Harlan held out a hand and Mitch pulled him up. Not that Harlan

needed the help. It was just a quick way to gauge the man’s strength.
From the ease at which he pulled Harlan to his feet, the new shifter
was coming along nicely.

Mitch turned and began to walk toward the bathroom, then turned

back when Harlan didn’t immediately follow. “You coming?”

“Hmm?”
The man grinned. “I believe you said something about throwing

me into the shower and fucking me again.”

Harlan matched his grin and stroked at his already re-hardening

cock. “That I did.”

The Rock Star and the Wolf

Chapter Nine

Mitch woke early the next morning to find Harlan snoring gently

behind him. It had been years since any of Mitch’s partners lasted
longer than one night, and he found himself very glad that Harlan was
sticking around. He nuzzled back into the man, Harlan’s cock snug
against his ass, then fell back to sleep.

He woke again sometime later to the ringing of his cell phone,

somewhere beneath the sheets. After a quick scrabble around to find
it, he answered it.

“Yello?”
“Mitch? It’s Theo! You still in the States, or what?”
“Oh, hey. Yeah, I am.” Harlan stirred behind him, as did his cock.

“Something came up.”

“Someone, more like,” Theo said. A few laughs in the background

told him he was on speakerphone with the band. “Turns out we’re still
in the States, too. We got talking on a transfer flight and got some
ideas for a new song. We’re back home and could really use your
voice, dude.”

“Now?” He frowned as he heard a click behind him, then

restrained a gasp as Harlan pushed his cock against his ass. “I’m, uh,
kinda in the middle of something.”

“Jeez, if it’s someone that important, bring ’em with you.”
Mitch chewed his lip as he considered it and tried not to moan as

Harlan pushed inside him. The guy was a horn dog! “I’ll call you
back.” He hung up the phone and let out a breath. “Uh, any plans?”

“Well…” Harlan slipped his hand around and gripped Mitch’s

now stiff cock. “I was planning on coming in a little while.”

JC Holly

Mitch gasped as Harlan pushed further inside him. “I was thinking

more of the next couple of weeks.”

“Training you. I can pick and choose my targets, so I can take

some time off work. Why?”

“You wanna come lay around my pool and watch me write a

song?”

Harlan paused in his movements for a moment. “Sure. I can train

you anywhere, pretty much.”

“Great. I’ll call Theo back. Once you’re done with me, anyway.”
Harlan only chuckled and kept working.

* * * *

While Mitch grabbed a shower, Harlan found his own phone and

sent a quick text to his handler that read, “Hey! I got that teaching gig
I was after. All is great. Going to be busy over the next couple of
weeks, though. Text me if you need me.”

He got a reply a minute later that made his stomach churn a little.

“No problem. Some guys were asking after you, though. Friends of
the guy you did a favor for.”

His handler had just told him that Brubeck’s pack were still

making a noise over Brubeck’s execution. He wasn’t worried for
himself, but he now had a student. Good job I’m leaving the state.
“I’m heading out of town, so it looks like they’ll miss me,” he replied.

No reply came, so clearly the handler was satisfied with the reply.

That the pack was on the lookout for him was a problem, but only
until he stepped into the airport. Speaking of airports… He stepped up
to the bathroom door and knocked once.

“I need to grab my things from the motel and drop the rental car

back at the lot,” he called. “Shouldn’t be more than an hour or so.”

“Sure thing,” Mitch called back over the sound of the shower.

“Just, uh, check that the coast is clear before you head out?”

The Rock Star and the Wolf

Harlan replied that he would, and then took in a deep breath and

began to sort through the various scents. The biggest were sex and
beer, followed by Mitch’s shampoo. There were no people near the
room, though. Even the rooms on either side were empty, as they had
previously contained the other members of the band. Sure he’d be
able to slip out unnoticed, he grabbed the spare key and quietly
slipped out of the door.

He decided to take the stairs down to the lobby, rather than the

elevator, as he had an urge to stretch his legs. On each new floor, he
paused to scent the air. He was no longer worried about
photographers, now that he was away from the upper floor, but since
there was a pack out on the hunt for him, he wasn’t interested in
taking chances.

The lobby was empty, save for the concierge and receptionist,

who were merrily chatting away about the occupant of 312, who had
apparently hired three prostitutes to pay him a “visit” and then had to
call the receptionist for help when one of the hookers lost the keys to
the handcuffs. Harlan smirked. Preternatural hearing had many
benefits.

“Morning, sir,” the concierge called.
“Yeah, you too, buddy,” Harlan said as he passed. “Nice day,

huh?”

A rumble of thunder came a moment later, pointing out his

sarcasm to all. Not that a little rain bothered a wolf. Hell, when you
were being hunted it was damn handy, as it kept the scents down. He
pulled up the collar of his shirt and jogged from the lobby to the
parking lot. As he approached the car he got a strong smell of
perfume from somewhere nearby. He muttered about people not
knowing how much was too much and climbed into his car. He
realized his folly as he glanced in the rearview mirror. Sat on the back
seats were two weres, each holding handguns, each doused in
perfume to hide their scents.

“Drive,” the thick-set man directly behind him said.

JC Holly

“Guns?” Harlan pulled the car out of the lot and headed to the

road as if he was accosted every day. “Really?”

“Says the guy with the knives,” the other were, a short blonde

woman, said with a sneer.

Harlan shrugged. “There’s a big difference between a knife and a

gun. Left or right?”

“Left, then keep going till I tell you otherwise.”
“You’re the boss.”
He did as he was told, pulling into the flow of traffic. There was

nothing he could do for the moment without drawing a hell of a lot of
attention from pedestrians and other drivers. Besides, the longer he
drove, the further away he got from Mitch. He was safe in the hotel,
as security wouldn’t let anyone on the top floor without a key or
permission.

“So, how’d you find me?”
“We got lucky,” the man said. “We were driving around the area

and my wife here caught your scent. We figured you’d be in the hotel,
so we tracked down your car and waited.”

Harlan nodded and glanced at the woman in the rearview mirror.

“Good nose.”

“Shut up,” she spat. “Murderer.”
“You’re thinking of Brubeck. I’m the guy who stopped him.”
“Bullshit. Half those news articles were so fucking vague they

could have been anyone. All we have is a couple of grainy CCTV
shots and your word.”

“It’s good enough for my bosses,” he said, his attention back on

the traffic.

He shifted a hand to change gear, then paused, thinking to perhaps

summon two blades and stick his kidnappers somewhere painful but
not vital before they realized what was happening. There was a click
as the man flicked the safety off his gun.

“Don’t even think about it,” he said. “The boss wants you alive,

but he didn’t say anything about healthy.”

The Rock Star and the Wolf

Harlan smirked and put his hand back on the wheel. “Fair enough.

So, what’s the plan? Wait, don’t tell me. You’ll have me drive
somewhere remote, then knock me out and drag me to an abandoned
cabin where your boss is waiting.”

“Something like that.” The man glanced out the side window.

“Next left.”

Harlan recognized the area from a previous drive. The next turn

led to a smaller road, which eventually would become a dirt road.
He’d not gone further than that, but he was pretty sure it’d end up
taking him into the sticks, where it was quiet with few witnesses.
Almost time to act, then.

He quickly eyed his captors again in the mirror. The woman was

the weak link, just through stature. She’d likely be quicker, but she
was slight and would only take one good punch. The man, on the
other hand, was built like a rhino, rather than a wolf. If Harlan
intended to kill it would be simple enough, but he was representing
his employers in this. Brubeck was a murderer, and thus deserving of
death, but as far as Harlan knew these two were innocents. He
doubted it, but he wasn’t going to risk killing innocent people.

As he made the turn, he noticed two things. Firstly, there was a

thick tree stump on one side of the road. Secondly, he hadn’t put his
seat belt on.

This is going to hurt.
He kept his course straight, his eyes straight ahead, not wanting to

alert his captors of his idea until it was too late. Once he was within a
hundred meters, he shifted gears, jammed his foot down onto the gas
pedal, and steered straight toward the stump. The two weres cried out
in surprise, but it was too late for them to act.

As the car collided with the stump, turning the front end into a

concertina, the force of the impact threw Harlan forward, into and
then through the windshield. Pain arced through his head, neck, and
forearms as the glass tore at his flesh. He’d hoped that the crash

JC Holly

would throw him away from the car entirely, but instead he collapsed
onto the hood, his legs still jutting through into the cab.

As quickly as he could, he pulled himself free and crawled from

the hood onto the ground. A shot came from behind and he ducked
down, using the stump as cover as one of the weres shot at him. He
risked a glance over the stump and found that the man was the one
firing, his wife slumped in her seat, likely after having collided with
the seat in front.

“Your wife looks hurt,” Harlan called.
The man turned to look at his wife and cursed, calling to her and

trying to wake her, and Harlan used the time to move around to the
side of the car. With a grunt he punched his hand into the metal of the
passenger door and tore it away. As the man turned to look at him
Harlan grabbed his gun and smashed him in the temple with it. It took
three strikes before the man finally slumped sideways, unconscious.
Harlan leant in and grabbed the wife’s gun, too, before dropping to
his haunches and allowing himself a quick few breaths.

This pack was serious business, it seemed. He shook his head to

clear his thoughts and winced at the sharp pain in his neck. He’d heal
up fine, as would his attackers, but it would take a day or two before
he felt himself again.

He turned to the road as he heard a distant police siren. Someone

must have heard the shots and called the authorities. With a muttered
curse he unloaded both gun magazines and tossed them into a field,
then placed the empty weapons on the driver’s seat. If luck was with
him, the two would stay out cold until it was too late for them to
escape, and the police would find them.

There was a small copse of trees on the other side of the road, and

Harlan ran across to them before stripping off his torn and bloody
clothes. It was risky shifting when injured, as it was never certain
whether the injury would worsen, but the police would probably
sweep the area for the driver of the car. They wouldn’t be looking for
a wolf.

The Rock Star and the Wolf

Besides, without a car he needed to move faster than two feet

would take him. The few belongings left in the motel weren’t
important, and neither was the return of the now totaled rental car. He
thanked the gods that he’d had the foresight to pay cash for the car
and use a fake ID, then shifted to his wolf form, picked his keys up in
his mouth, and headed back in the direction of the hotel.

JC Holly

Chapter Ten

Mitch glanced again at the clock as he paced the room. Harlan had

said he’d be about an hour, and that had been three hours ago. Mitch
had arranged for a limo to pick them up and take them to the airport in
style, and it would be arriving very soon.

When a knock came at the door ten minutes later, he knew

something was wrong. He could smell blood and it wasn’t his. He ran
to the hotel door and flung it open to find a cut and bruised Harlan
stood in the doorway, dressed in soaking wet clothes.

“It’s raining out, y’know,” he said as he stepped inside the room.
“What the hell happened?” Mitch asked as he quickly closed the

door and locked it. “You look like you were in a car crash.”

“I was.” The man began pulling off the oddly sized clothes. “Had

to grab them from a washing line,” he explained. “Do I have glass in
my back?”

Mitch’s mouth gaped wide as Harlan stripped off. From head to

toe, the man was covered in scratches and cuts of varying sizes. With
shaking fingers Mitch began to pull pieces of safety glass from the
larger slashes.

“You really need to tell me what happened,” he said, as he

worked. “You can’t just swagger in and pretend like it’s nothing
special.”

Harlan tensed as Mitch pulled some glass out. “Sorry. It’s not like

this happens to me a lot, but it happens enough that the thrill has
started to wear off.” He sighed. “Remember I told you about the guy
who attacked you?”

The Rock Star and the Wolf

“The one you killed, yeah.” Mitch shook his head. “Jeez, now I’m

being casual about it.”

Harlan chuckled. “It’s a were thing. Wolves don’t view fighting

and death the same way we do.”

Mitch pulled the last piece of glass out and flicked it to the carpet.

He’d have to leave a big tip for the maids to clean the mess up. He
headed into the bathroom and grabbed a cloth, then ran it under hot
water.

“Go on,” he called, while he rifled through his overnight bags for

the painkillers Carr had given him. “Someone who knew him took
offense?”

“Yeah,” Harlan called from the other room. The bed creaked as he

sat. “His pack took exception. A couple of them got lucky when
tracking me and found my car.”

“Shit.” Mitch tossed the painkillers to Harlan, then began to clean

the worst of the wounds. The smaller ones were already beginning to
close up. “Did they know you were here with me?”

Harlan shook his head. “They just found the car, that’s all. They

were waiting in the back and drove me out of town at gunpoint. I had
to crash the car to get away.”

“And the shifters? Are they dead?”
“No. I knocked them out and tossed the guns. I don’t kill unless I

have to.”

Mitch smiled to himself. He knew that Harlan was a good guy. He

could sense it, but hearing that confirmed it. “So what now?”

“We head out to your place. If you still want me around, that is.”
Mitch snorted. “My very own action hero? How could I not want

that?”

Harlan turned and kissed Mitch softly on the lips. “It could bring

trouble your way.”

“Harlan, have you ever been to the house of a rockstar before?”
Harlan stood and pulled on his badly fitting shirt. “Not since Alice

Cooper.”

JC Holly

“You met Ali—” Mitch shook his head as he noticed Harlan’s

grin. “Anyway. This is how it works. We’re picked up in a limousine
with blacked windows, we drive to a chartered private jet, and then
fly to my gated mansion with its own security staff of very stern-
looking armed men.”

Harlan laughed. “It really is another world.”
Mitch shrugged. “I don’t go in for the lifestyle most of the time,

but my house is my fort away from the press, and photographers don’t
like large men in sunglasses with folded arms and a pistol on their
hip.”

“I can see that.” Harlan pulled the rest of his clothes on, then

rolled his neck, wincing. “First lesson for ya. Shifting while injured is
bad.”

“Yes, teacher. Shall I write that down?”
“I’m sure I’ll mention it once or twice on the flight,” he said with

a smirk. “It’s lucky we heal so damn fast.”

The phone rang and Mitch picked it up on the first ring. It was the

reception, telling him that his limo had arrived and was waiting by the
kitchen’s fire escape, just like Mitch had asked. He thanked the
woman, told her to add sizeable tips for herself, the concierge, and the
maids, and then hung up.

“Grab your stuff.”
Harlan stepped forward and placed his hand on Mitch’s ass. “Got

it.”

Mitch laughed and moved away to pack. “Your other stuff.”
“You’re looking at it,” Harlan said as he plucked his wallet and

phone from the dresser. “The other stuff isn’t worth the risk returning
for.”

“In that case you can help me pack.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I thought I was the one in charge?”
“Only when we’re training or fucking.” Mitch grinned and

pointed to the second dresser. “Pack, bitch.”

The Rock Star and the Wolf

* * * *

Harlan settled into the limo and let out a sharp breath as one of the

larger holes in his back complained at the movement. He may not be
willing to kill any of the members of Brubeck’s pack, but if he saw
the alpha again he was going to punch the nose from his face.

Mitch jumped in and settled across from him, then told the driver

to head to the airport.

“There’s a lot of traffic out,” the driver said. “Probably take us

about an hour.”

Mitch told him it wasn’t a problem, then slid the privacy screens

up. Harlan smirked and Mitch raised an eyebrow at the expression.

“You’re just so laid back about this stuff,” Harlan said. “Like

you’re in limos all the time.”

“I am.” Mitch leant over to the minibar and pulled out a bottle of

water. “Here. For the painkillers you haven’t taken yet.”

Harlan shook his head. “I don’t use them.”
“Why? They mess up a shifter’s body or something?”
“Nah. We can take anything a human can. Only difference is

they’re less effective due to our metabolism. I just try to avoid pills
when I can.”

Mitch nodded and put the water on the seat beside him. “You

feeling okay, though?”

“Sure. A little beat up, but I’ll be fine soon enough.”
In actual fact his neck was still pretty damn agonizing from his

trip through the car’s windshield. The shift had only aggravated the
issue, as had the run in between. Still, it could have been a lot worse.
He made a mental note to check the local news when he got a chance,
to see if the two shifters had been picked up by the police.

“Anything I can do to make you feel better?” Mitch asked, as he

fiddled with the TV remote.

“Depends. Does that privacy shield really work?”

JC Holly

Mitch nodded. “You wouldn’t believe what some of the guys have

gotten up to in limos.” He glanced up as Harlan’s question sunk in.
“Have something in mind?”

“Well,” Harlan said, as he straightened in his seat. “I’m not up to

anything fancy, but I figure seeing you with a face full of cock might
perk me up.”

Mitch raised an eyebrow. “Any cock in particular?”
Harlan unfastened his pants and pulled out his thickening shaft,

stroking it slowly. “How about this one?”

“Excellent choice.”
Mitch moved across the limo, dropping to his knees in front of

Harlan, then dipped and ran the tip of his tongue in a circle on
Harlan’s cockhead.

“I feel better already,” he muttered as Mitch slipped the length

into his mouth. “You’re a good little slut.”

Mitch moaned in agreement as he began to bob up and down,

taking as much of Harlan’s thick cock as he could. Harlan put a hand
on the back of the man’s head and guided him.

“I hope there are towels in here,” he said. “Because when I’m

done I’m going to come in your face, and I doubt the airport staff will
look favorably on you dripping semen everywhere.”

Mitch moaned again and slid his hand down to his pants. He

quickly pulled them down and began to jerk his cock.

“You like the idea of that?” Harlan asked, trying to stay relaxed.

“Maybe I should make you walk through the airport, covered in my
cum. Let everyone see how much of a little slut you really are.”

Mitch’s hand moved faster on his cock at the words, and watching

him work, along with the action of his head on his cock had Harlan
panting in no time. He began to push Mitch down, forcing him to take
in more of Harlan’s cock, then holding him in place for a few seconds
before letting him up and repeating the action.

“That’s it,” he gasped. “Take it. Take my fucking dick.”

The Rock Star and the Wolf

A muffled cry came from Mitch, and Harlan felt something warm

hit his pant leg. He glanced down to find that Mitch had come hard,
and the sight brought on Harlan’s own orgasm. He began pushing up
with his hips as Mitch moved down his shaft, increasing the strokes.
Then, as it became too much he pulled Mitch away and began to jerk
his cock hard and fast.

Mitch rocked back onto his haunches, his eyes wide and his

mouth open as he watched Harlan jack his cock. He came hard with a
grunt, and pointed the tip of his cock straight at Mitch’s face. Thick
ropes of semen squirted forth, splattering into Mitch’s face and neck.
The man moved slightly and held out his tongue to catch the rest, then
sank his mouth over Harlan’s still pulsing cock to take the rest of the
load.

Mitch straightened and pulled open a compartment containing

tissues. Once he was finished cleaning up, Harlan leant forward and
grasped him around the neck, then pulled the startled man into a deep
kiss. Mitch quickly relaxed into it, allaying Harlan’s sudden worries
that the move wouldn’t be appreciated.

The moment was ruined by the limo hitting a small pothole, which

sent a sharp pain through Harlan’s neck, causing him to wince and
pull back to clutch his neck. Mitch dropped onto the seat beside him
and leant back to look.

“There’s no wound, or new scar,” he said.
“No. It’s a fracture.” Harlan rubbed at the sore area. “Damn safety

glass. The old stuff would cut you up worse, but at least you got
through it easier.”

“Now you’re sounding your age.”
“Quiet, damn young ’un.” He rolled his neck slowly to one side,

then the other. “It’ll be fine, but it looks like I won’t be joining the
Mile High Club today.”

Mitch squeezed his knee. “I’d rather have you in one piece than

two slightly more relaxed pieces. Besides, I just blew you. You
should be good till we land.”

JC Holly

Harlan shrugged. “I’d like to say that it’s a part of the shifter

blood, but to be honest I’m just a horn dog.”

Mitch kissed him on the lips, softly. “I can put up with that.”

* * * *

After an hour waiting around in the airport’s private lounge,

Harlan’s body had decided it was time to rest, and by the time he
headed onto the plane his eyelids were drooping. He hadn’t realized
how little sleep he’d had lately.

Thanks to his hatred of flying, though, it took a long time to drop

off on the plane. In the end he’d had to close the blinds and convince
himself he was on a fancy train. Still, it got him away from the city
and its angry wolves quicker.

The pain in his neck had faded somewhat, leaving him with more

of an annoying ache than a stabbing pain. Breaks and fractures took a
while to fully heal, even for a wolf, though, so he’d have to be careful
not to fly through any windshields for a few days.

As the plane came in for its landing, Harlan risked a look out of

the window, squinting against the morning sun. They were much
closer to the ground at that point, so it wasn’t quite so hair-raising.
The airport runway was ahead, and closing fast, and he could pick out
a large crowd in one area near a terminal.

“Huh. I thought you had to wait inside for planes these days,” he

muttered, more to himself than anything.

Mitch leaned over and glanced out of the same window, then

groaned and pulled out his cellphone. “They’re not looking for a
flight.”

Harlan took another look. Closer now, he could make out a

number of large television cameras hoisted onto shoulders. Most of
the people were watching the plane come in to land.

“Bob,” Mitch said into his cell. “Did you tell anyone I was

coming in tonight?”

The Rock Star and the Wolf

“Nope. Didn’t even know,” Harlan faintly heard the man on the

other end say. “Why, you got a crowd?”

“Yeah, I have. I guess someone in the airport told someone. Are

you nearby?”

Harlan turned his attention back to the window and watched the

ground rush up as the plane touched down on the runway. Beside him
Mitch and his agent talked about ways to sneak past, but none of them
really seemed viable.

He’d known that Mitch was famous—everyone and their dog

knew his name—but this was crazy. There had to be two dozen
photographers out there, with another thirty people behind them,
probably hoping for autographs. All waiting to see Mitch stepping off
a goddamn plane. It’s not like he’d just wrestled the plane to a safe
landed after an engine blew, or something.

“Another world,” Harlan muttered, then braced himself to meet

Mitch’s adoring public.

JC Holly

Chapter Eleven

Mitch felt sorry for Harlan as they stepped down the planes steps

onto the runway. He hadn’t had the years of practice with press and
fans that Mitch had. Bob had managed to get some more security
from the terminal to reign in the shouting and screaming people, but
even so it was likely a daunting sight.

Harlan followed along behind Mitch, wearing a borrowed baseball

cap to cover his eyes and keeping a little distance as they’d agreed
upon. The idea was to make it look like Harlan was an old buddy,
come to hang around, rather than his lover. The thought gave Mitch a
chill. Lover. Technically it was correct, but the word also implied
love. Yeesh, I’ve only known the guy a few days. I shouldn’t be
thinking like that. He pushed that thought from his mind, to be
considered later, and turned his attention back to the crowd.

“Mitch! Mitch!” came the shouts of multiple people, some with

cameras, some with pen and paper. Mitch gestured to Harlan to get
his attention, then pointed to a door being held open by two large men
in black suits.

“I need to sign some stuff or everyone will start saying I’m a

bastard.”

Harlan laughed and nodded. “See you inside, ole buddy. I’ll find

me a beer.”

Mitch watched him leave for a moment, then snapped his attention

back to the fans, before someone started thinking about headlines
regarding Mitch Shaw staring at men’s asses. To counter it further, he
moved to the most attractive female fan and leant in to kiss her on the
cheek as he took her pen and paper.

The Rock Star and the Wolf

“What’s your name, cutie?” he asked, pen poised.
“It’s Cara!” She was now beetroot red. “Oh my god! I’m your

biggest fan ever! I’ve even got all the old stuff you did with your first
band.”

Mitch nodded and smiled, and made sure to glance down her low

cut top. “Here you go, sugar. Don’t go selling it on eBay.”

“Never!”
He watched her leave, the paper held close to her chest as if it was

a precious gem, then turned to the next closest person. This time it
was someone he half recognized. A reporter from a local news
channel.

“Welcome back, Mitch,” the woman said, all white teeth and

bright eyes for the camera. “What are your plans now that the tour is
over?”

“Oh, I dunno.” He glanced at the fans. “Thinking about the new

album.”

The roar produced by the few dozen people was startlingly loud,

and not just thanks to his new sharper hearing. He realized with a
smirk that that was the first mention of a new album outside of
official channels. No doubt Bob would shout at him later for that.

“Glad to hear it,” the woman said. “And who’s your friend?”
“Who?” He glanced up from his third autograph. “Oh! He’s an old

buddy from years back. He’s a personal trainer, and I’m way out of
shape, so I thought I’d give him the tour and then see if he can find
my six-pack.”

The reporter laughed and started to ask another question, but

Mitch held up his hand. “Sorry, guys, gotta go.”

He handed back the autograph he’d been signing, quickly did

another, then jogged toward the terminal. He found Harlan just inside
the door, talking to Bob.

“Mitch!” Bob thrust out his hand and pumped Mitch’s

enthusiastically. “Sorry about the unwanted attention. I’ll speak to the
airport and make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

JC Holly

Mitch nodded and tried not to roll his eyes. It always happened.

Especially with the advent of social media. One message on a site that
someone saw someone and before long everyone knew. He glanced at
Harlan. The man seemed uncomfortable, surrounded by so much
security. He kept eyeing exits, as if he was working out escape plans
if one of them pulled a gun.

“You ready?” Mitch asked him.
“Sure thing, buddy. You lead, I’ll follow.”
Though the “buddy” thing had been Mitch’s idea in the first place,

hearing it still bothered him. He wished he had the strength to say
“screw it” and come out to the world. If he was brutally honest, his
excuses about affecting sales were bullshit. He’d never cared about
the money, and even the other members of the band, who would
technically have lost out too, if that was the case, had told him he
should out himself. He was just plain afraid.

* * * *

Harlan tried to keep his expression and body language light and

relaxed, but he was tense as hell. It was one thing to fool around with
a guy who he knew was famous. It was another thing entirely to see it
firsthand.

While the flight over had been pretty casual, now that they had

landed there seemed to be security everywhere. The airport supplied
some, and Bob had brought the rest, apparently. Harlan eyed one
particularly enormous man and smirked at the thought that in a week
or two his employer would be able to bench press the guy.

He glanced at Mitch’s behind as they walked through the crowded

airport terminal to another waiting limo. People, both fans and regular
gawkers, crowded in on both sides, and the security staff had their
work cut out trying to keep them away from Mitch. Ever the
professional, Mitch just smiled and waved to people, pausing on

The Rock Star and the Wolf

occasion to hug someone for a photo, or sign a shirt. At one point he
even signed some woman’s chest.

That’ll certainly help the rock image.
The walk to the limo seemed to take way longer than it should,

given the short distance. By the time they finally clambered into the
back of the bright white Cadillac, Harlan was half blind from camera
flashes. He blinked rapidly in the low light of the cab and was about
to tell Mitch about a shifter’s light sensitivity when he realized Bob
also sat in the car with them.

“Sorry I’m third-wheelin’,” the small and sharply dressed man

said. “Few things I need to discuss, though, and now seemed the best
time.” He glanced from Harlan to Mitch. “Uh, I’m okay discussing
business, right?”

Harlan assumed that was the man’s way of asking whether Mitch

thought Harlan would blab it all to a newspaper.

Mitch nodded. “Harlan’s good.”
“Harlan,” Bob said. “Now there’s a classic name.”
Harlan smiled and shrugged. “I’ve always liked it. Not too many

of us about.”

Bob smiled in return, then turned to Mitch. From then till the limo

came to a halt, it was all business. Harlan was pleasantly surprised to
hear that Mitch took an active role in all parts of his career, from
accounting to deciding who to hire in the band’s recording studio. He
seemed to have his feet well and truly on the ground.

A clunk came from outside of the vehicle, followed by an electric

hum as, Harlan assumed, a gate slid open. The limo started moving
again, then came to a halt a minute later. The engine cut out and the
driver’s door opened and closed as the chauffeur came around to let
Mitch out. All three climbed out of the same door and Harlan got his
first look at Mitch’s mansion.

“Right, I’m gone again,” Bob said with a smile and a nod to

Harlan. “If I miss another meeting in the office they’ll nail me to the
wall.”

JC Holly

Mitch clapped the man on the shoulder as he left, then turned back

to Harlan. “What do you think?”

“Holy mother of crap.” Harlan spun three hundred and sixty

degrees, taking it all in. “You own this?”

The mansion, sat on more than a few acres of land, was built in a

classical English style, though on a smaller scale, with sandstone
colored walls and thick pillars standing either side of the grand
entrance, framing the double doors.

In front of the house, where Harlan was standing, was a wide

gravel road that stretched to either end of the house, then curved back
on itself toward the gate. There were three cars parked at one end, and
one at the other. Each was worth several times what Harlan earned in
a year.

“You like?” Mitch asked.
“It looks like you shrank the house from Pride and Prejudice.”
He laughed. “Kinda what I was going for.”
“Then you succeeded. I was expecting something more modern.

Glass and steel.”

Mitch winked. “Got one of those, too.”
As Harlan turned to mock the man’s wealth, a shout came from

the entrance to the house. In the doorway stood a shirtless and heavily
tattooed man, a guitar held by the neck in one hand and a bottle of
beer in the other.

“Mitch! About time you showed up.”
Mitch rolled his eyes, then led Harlan over. “Harlan, this is Carr,

our lead guitarist. Carr, this is Harlan.”

Harlan shook the man’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Yeah, you too.” Carr grinned and gestured inside. “Come join the

party.”

A wide hallway led straight through the center of the house.

Multiple rooms lay on each side, most with their doors wide. Harlan
took his time on the walk and glanced inside most rooms, taking in

The Rock Star and the Wolf

the plush carpets, various instruments and expensive electronics, and
pieces of art.

“Quite the collector,” he said, as he passed another room with

paintings lining the walls.

Mitch nodded. “I like beautiful things.” He winked at Harlan, then

turned to point at a painting. “Plus, if I end up blowing all my money
on booze and loose women, I’ll have some stuff to sell off.”

“I’m sure.”
He leant in closer to Harlan. “If you’re not up to the meet ’n’

greet, we can just say hi and then make up an excuse.”

“No, it’s fine. I can play nice.”
Mitch smirked and grabbed Harlan’s crotch. “That’s debatable.”
By the time they headed out of the back door, Carr had settled

back in amongst the other members of the band. They were all lying
on loungers on one side of a large pool. Harlan was glad to see it
wasn’t in the shape of a guitar. Or a microphone, he thought with a
smirk.

The men greeted Mitch raucously, and Harlan could smell the

booze on their breath from a hundred meters away. There was an
empty lounger and Carr disappeared into a large metal shed to pull
out another for Harlan, which he jutted up against the other free
lounger.

“Wait, should one go behind the other?”
The guys laughed, but it was friendly. Clearly it was Carr’s

attempt at saying he knew Mitch was gay and that they didn’t need to
hide anything.

“Play your cards right and you can put mine behind yours,”

Harlan said, much to the amusement of everyone present.

Mitch handled the introductions then settled into a chair. Harlan

took up the second one and tried not to sigh in contentment as he leant
back and took some of the weight off his neck.

“It’s not like Mitch to bring someone home,” Theo, the drummer,

said. “You must be special.”

The Rock Star and the Wolf

Chapter Twelve

The guys hung around for a few more hours before finally sloping

off toward the front of the house, where one of Mitch’s security staff
waited to drive them back to their own homes. All of them lived
within a ten-minute drive, which made for easy meet-ups. On the
downside, they were often there when he wanted some time to
himself, too.

He and Harlan waved the boys off, then headed back inside. Mitch

closed his doors, locked them, then let out a long contented sigh.
Home. As much as he enjoyed the occasional stay in a fancy hotel, it
didn’t compare to being in his own home. It had been far too long.

Harlan stood by him, his attention again on the contents of the

house. Mitch knew it was silly, but he felt a little guilty about having
so much. Yes, he worked hard for it, but Harlan worked hard for what
he had, too. A damn sight harder in fact, since he was risking his life
on a regular basis. Harlan must have realized Mitch was staring at
him, as he turned back to him with an arched brow.

“What?”
Mitch shook his head. “Just glad to be home.”
“I’m just happy to have my feet back on the ground.”
“Yeah, I noticed you weren’t the happiest flier.” He started toward

the kitchen and Harlan came behind. “I used to be terrified by planes.
The first world tour was hellish. I had to practically overdose on
sleeping pills just to get through it.”

“I try and sleep, but it doesn’t always work. At least this time I

didn’t have to put up with screaming babies.”

JC Holly

Mitch opened the door to the kitchen and made straight for the

coffeemaker. “Oh, caffeine, how I’ve missed you. How do you take
it?”

“Black, no sugar, thanks.”
“Blech. How do you drink that?”
Harlan shrugged as he leant on the worktop beside Mitch.

“Usually with a cup.”

Mitch grinned and turned to add the grounds to the machine.
“Nice kitchen,” Harlan commented. “Looks like it’s actually used,

too.”

“I happen to be an awesome chef. I use a professional sometimes,

like if I’m having a party, but otherwise I prefer to do it all myself.”

“I can heat stuff up, but that’s about it.” Harlan gestured to the

size of the room. “Don’t you get lonely in a place so big?”

“Not really. I mean, there’re always people visiting, and I’ve got

staff and security around most of the time, too.”

Harlan took a breath in through his nose, then cocked his head.

“There’s nobody else in the house.”

Mitch nodded. “I dismissed them all. The security guys are still on

the gate and will do sweeps of the grounds, but other than that we’re
all alone. Also, I’m looking forward to doing that.”

“Doing what?”
“The nose thing. I mean, my sense of smell is already better, but

it’s not that good.”

Harlan chewed his lip, lost in thought for a moment. “Right, close

your eyes, put your fingers in your ears, then count to one hundred.”
He began pulling his shoes and socks off. “Then you’re going to find
me through scent alone.”

Mitch laughed, but Harlan’s expression was neutral. “You’re

serious? I’ll never manage that.”

“Have faith in yourself. Closing your eyes will help, as will taking

your time. It’s not a race, and I’m not going to make you write lines if
you fail.”

The Rock Star and the Wolf

Mitch nodded. “All right, I can do this.”
“Yes, you can. Now get my scent, then close your eyes and start

counting.”

Mitch leant in close and inhaled. Harlan smelled of soap from his

quick wash before they left the hotel, but it didn’t completely cover
the gasoline smell underneath that was no doubt from the car crash.
Confident he could remember the scent, he closed his eyes and started
to count.

Even through his covered ears, he heard Harlan’s footsteps on the

squeaky step of the staircase and was almost disappointed. He’d
wanted to do it with no clue whatsoever. By the time he’d finished
counting, though, enough doubts had surfaced that he wasn’t sure he
could do it anyway.

One way to find out.
He opened his eyes, then remembered Harlan’s tip and closed

them again, before taking in as deep a breath as he could. Scents
swarmed in on him. Varying in strength and pleasantness, and too
many to count, they threatened to overwhelm him.

“I can do this. I can fucking do this.”
He shook his head viciously then let out a long breath and began

to sort through the odors. The most prominent were the kitchen
smells, and the most prominent among those was the coffee directly
behind him. He frowned as the smells seemed to fade into the
background. Did he do that? He breathed in again, this time normally,
and focused on other strong odors—the trashcan, the food in the
fridge. They, too, faded once he’d identified them. His lips curled into
a smile. He knew how to do it.

It was as if his new shifter side did the hard work for him. He told

himself what he needed to find, and what was unimportant, and his
brain went to work sorting. Even though he’d probably done enough
to locate Harlan’s trail, he stayed in the kitchen, sorting through more
scents, enjoying the newfound ability. Soon he was left with only a

JC Holly

few remaining scents, and the most prominent was his lover’s. As he
focused upon it, he opened his eyes.

“Okay, staircase.”
He’d already known that, but as he walked toward it, he could feel

that Harlan had passed that way. It was as if his nose had developed
GPS. He paused only momentarily at the foot of the staircase before
turning left and heading down the hall toward the guest bedrooms.
Harlan had passed this way, pausing by two of the doors, but not
actually entering them. His pauses meant that his scent was slightly
stronger by the doors.

Mitch grinned wide. “I’m sure you can already hear me,” he

called. “This is fucking awesome!”

No voice replied, but that was likely down to Harlan trying to stay

hidden. Mitch had no doubt the guy was smiling. Maybe even feeling
a little proud.

Mitch headed further down the hall, his head bent, his attention

wholly on the little patches of scent that were Harlan’s footsteps, until
he reached the window at the end. A small table sat under it, holding a
vase of fresh flowers that a maid must have placed that morning.
Mitch identified and faded the scent in his head, then turned to face
the other direction. Two doors, one on each side of him, lay closed,
Harlan’s scent strong on both. Mitch eyed both carefully. He had a
feeling that this part was intentional. If he guessed the wrong door, he
failed.

“Better get it right, then,” he muttered, as he in turn moved to

each door.

While both were covered in Harlan’s scent, only one had it on the

doorknob. Mitch grinned and twisted the handle, then stepped into the
room. Only to find it empty.

“What?”
He turned back to the hallway, baffled, just as Harlan dropped

from above, landing neatly. Mitch looked up at the ceiling, then

The Rock Star and the Wolf

laughed aloud. The man had used the narrow hallway to climb up to
the ceiling, his hands on one wall and his feet on the other.

Harlan brushed a little dust from his shirt. “You did it.”
“Well, almost,” Mitch replied, coloring. “I was too busy looking

at the carpet to even think of looking up.”

“Every new shifter does it. After all, the footsteps are where the

scent is strongest.” Harlan smiled. “Hence my climbing. I couldn’t let
you off easily.”

“No?” Mitch moved closer, grinning, then ran his hand over

Harlan’s crotch. “Not even for me?”

Harlan laughed and pulled Mitch closer still. “Not even for you.

It’s a tough world out there. Fame and security guards are useless in
the wild.”

“True. Unless I used my fame to hire a pack of were-guards.”
“I’ll give you that one.” He bent in and kissed Mitch softly.

“Which reminds me. I’ll cover packs later.”

“Later? What’s wrong with now?”
Harlan smirked. “We’re in an empty house, and my hard-on is

pushing into your hip. Does your accountant do all your math?”

Mitch reached down and gripped Harlan’s cock through his pants.

“You want sex, you have to agree to something first.”

“Oh?”
“Uh huh.” He squeezed gently. “You have to promise to do what

you just said.”

Harlan cocked his head to one side.
“About not going easy on me,” Mitch clarified.
“Ah. I thought you wanted me to go easy.”
He shook his head. “I was just kidding around. If I’m going to

learn this shifter stuff, I want to do it properly.”

“Done.” Harlan kissed him on the forehead. “Now take your

clothes off.”

Mitch quirked an eyebrow. “Here? In the hall?”

JC Holly

“We’re alone, aren’t we?” Harlan stepped back and folded his

arms. “Clothes off.”

Mitch licked his dry lips. God, he loved it when Harlan used his

authoritative voice. He pulled off his shirt, then kicked off his shoes
and removed his pants. Harlan eyed him slowly, from head to toe,
then twirled a finger. Mitch spun, as commanded, and Harlan growled
softly as he turned to face away from him. Mitch jumped slightly as
Harlan slapped his ass.

“Walk.”
Mitch’s heart was already hammering. “Where to?”
“Bedroom. Slowly.”
He did as he was told, the thick carpet soft against his bare feet as

he made his way along the hallway. Harlan walked behind,
occasionally slapping Mitch’s ass, or leaning in to whisper
obscenities. Mitch could only bite his lip and keep moving. He
stopped as he reached the master bedroom, pushing the door open as
he turned to Harlan.

“On the bed, ass up.”
Mitch’s heart hammered as he crossed the distance to the bed. He

climbed onto the soft mattress and moved toward the middle, then got
into position, lying flat, resting his head on his partly crossed
forearms.

“Ass up, I said,” Harlan growled. “Don’t make me spank you.”
“And if I want you to spank me?” Mitch said, his breath halting.
Harlan chuckled as he pulled a drawer open and rifled through the

contents. “In that case, ass up or I won’t spank you.”

“Yes, teacher.”
Mitch shifted position, moving up so that he rested on his elbows

and forearms, and his knees. He arched his back toward the sheets,
pushing his ass up and back. Harlan growled in approval, then turned
back to the drawer and pulled out a bottle of lube. He paused as he
closed the drawer.

“Well, what do we have here?”

The Rock Star and the Wolf

Mitch bit his lip as Harlan pulled the item in question out of the

drawer. It was a large black case, shaped like a flashlight. Inside was
a soft rubbery silicone that simulated the feel of skin. There was a
hole through the center, shaped and styled much like that of a tight
ass. Mitch had bought it a few years ago to use with an ex who he’d
dumped before he got chance to use it. He could tell from Harlan’s
expression that that was about to finally see some use.

Harlan stepped behind Mitch and out of his line of vision. The

mattress depressed as the man climbed onto the bed and moments
later his large hands were on Mitch’s waist, pulling him back a little
way.

“That’s better,” Harlan said. “So, you like toys?”
“I’ve never actually used it on myself,” Mitch admitted.
“No?” The plastic cap landed on the pillow in front of Mitch.

“I’ve had a couple. I can’t always find reliable ass, you know.”

Mitch gasped as Harlan hooked an arm around his waist and

flipped him over on the bed. Harlan reached down and stroked
Mitch’s hard cock, the toy in his other hand.

“Well, it looks like my plans have changed,” Harlan said with a

smirk. “Time to pop a cherry.”

He moved closer to Mitch, then flipped the cap on the lube bottle

and dripped a little onto the entrance to the toy, then some onto
Mitch’s cock and rubbed it in. Thoroughly, Mitch noticed. Harlan
moved the toy and held its opening against Mitch’s cockhead. He had
to admit, it felt pretty good already.

“This isn’t as good as it feels when I’m inside you,” Harlan said.

“But I’m sure it’ll suffice.”

He pushed the toy down and Mitch moaned softly as the first inch

of his cock disappeared into the slick silicone. Harlan pulled away
again, pulling the toy off again, before slipping it back on.

“I always found that to be the best part,” Harlan said, his attention

entirely on his work.

JC Holly

Mitch had to agree. The feeling of pressure on his cock as he slid

inside was almost as good as feeling it from the other side. The fact
that Harlan was the one in control of the action made it even better.
Mitch lay back, his weight on his elbows, and closed his eyes as
Harlan slowly jacked his cock.

“Ground rule,” Harlan said. “You do not come until I say. No

exceptions.”

Mitch nodded once to agree, then started thinking about things

other than sex to slow himself down. Harlan didn’t help.

“This is some sight, you know,” the older man said with a growl.

“Watching your cock, all slick with lube, slipping in and out of this
thing.”

Mitch bit his lip. It was hard enough to keep control without

Harlan’s words. After all, he wasn’t used to this. He was usually more
interested in being the “toy.”

“Of course, once I let you come, we’re not done,” Harlan

continued. “Not at all.”

Mitch took a sharp breath and held it in as the toy took in more of

his cock, and quicker.

Harlan chuckled, apparently noticing Mitch’s expression. “Once

you’ve squirted, I’m going to flip you back over, and you’re going to
put that ass high,” he said. “Then I’m going to use you as a toy. I’m
going to breed that tight little ass of yours and watch it drip out of
you.”

Mitch whimpered and clenched his jaw as the urge to come came

far too quickly. Damn it, Harlan. You’re not making this easy. Not
that he’d expected he would. The man loved to be in control.

Harlan added again to the intensity by using his free hand to cup

Mitch’s balls, massaging them as he worked the shaft with the toy.
There were several sharp pops and Mitch realized he was gripping the
sheets of the bed so hard that his knuckles were cracking.

“Fuck,” he said, then hissed as Harlan sped further. “I can’t hold

on.”

The Rock Star and the Wolf

“You don’t have my permission, slut,” Harlan said, simply.
Mitch cursed the man silently and concentrated hard on the most

boring things he could think of. Brick walls, guitar tabs, press
interviews. Nothing was helping, and he tensed his muscles hard to
hold back just a little longer, praying for release.

In response, Harlan sped further, then said, “Come for me, Mitch.

Come for teacher.”

Mitch could have wept in gratitude. He relaxed again and let his

orgasm hit hard, crying out as his cock spasmed, filling the sex toy
with his cum. Harlan kept the toy in motion until Mitch finally
sagged, breathless, then pulled it away and dipped his head to kiss
Mitch’s cock softly.

“Good boy.”
Mitch dropped flat to the bed, panting. “You’re an ass, you

know.”

“I know. You have to admit, that orgasm was a good one,

though.”

Mitch glared, but there was no malice behind it. “Maybe.”
Harlan laughed as he slid off his clothes, his thick cock springing

to attention as it was released from his pants. “Don’t worry, I’ll give
you five minutes.”

“Oh gee, thanks.”
“No more than five, though.” The man sat on the bed beside

Mitch and began to masturbate, using Mitch’s body—his cock
especially—as his stimulation. “Once you’ve spent more time as a
shifter, your endurance will increase, too. All kinds of endurance.
Especially with me around,” he said with a wolfish grin.

Mitch shook his head, smiling. “You’re insatiable.”
“Yup.” Harlan flipped Mitch over, again like he weighed nothing

at all. “Though there won’t be any sex tomorrow.”

“Why?” Mitch bit his lip as Harlan entered him. “What happens

tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow, we start training.”

JC Holly

Chapter Thirteen

Harlan rose with the sun the next morning and took a few

moments to watch the clouds through the window before rolling out
of bed. He left Mitch soundly asleep and padded over to one of the
two doors in the room that wasn’t the exit, in search of the bathroom.
The first turned out to be an enormous walk-in closet with a large
variety of leather pants and big boots. Hopefully the guy would have
some sensible stuff in there, too, since the physical parts of the
training would be a damn sight harder in ball-squeezing trousers.

The second door led to a bathroom larger than Harlan’s own

dining room. As well as having a shower the size of some car washes,
it contained a huge kidney-bean-shaped bath, a separate hot tub, and
what appeared to be a small wooden-clad sauna.

The shower was all he was interested in for now. He slipped into

the huge cubicle and stared at the controls. After some
experimentation, he found how to produce hot water at a reasonable
pressure and could finally relax under the spray. He did some of his
best thinking in the shower.

Today would be a test of Mitch’s growing abilities. Harlan

intended to push the man to his breaking point, so both would see
what he was capable of. It had been nearly a week since Mitch had
been bitten, so he should be approaching his limits of power soon.
Oddly, he hadn’t shown much of an urge to shift, yet, but that could
be due to the fact that he hadn’t really experimented with his skills
yet. If that was the case, he’d be howling by the evening, Harlan
thought with a smirk.

The Rock Star and the Wolf

Not that he’d let the man change today. They needed somewhere

much quieter for the first shift. It was in no way a pleasant
experience—Harlan could still remember his first in its agonizing
glory—and the last thing they needed was a cadre of security guards
smashing the door down when a screaming Mitch was mid-change. It
would happen soon, though. Perhaps the next day, if they could find
somewhere suitable.

Harlan stayed under the water for a long time, as he sorted

through other issues in his head. Normally training wasn’t too
difficult, since he could take his student wherever they needed to go
in which to train. With a world-famous rockstar, though, just stepping
onto the front garden meant the possibility of fans, photographers, and
news cameras. Any exposure was bad, since Mitch was still worried
about coming out, and Harlan doubted Brubeck’s pack had given up
yet. They were probably out looking even then.

“The airport.” Harlan punched the back wall of the shower,

shattering a pale blue tile. “Fuck!”

When they had landed, the news cameras would have caught

Harlan, and maybe one or two had even followed his walk to the
terminal. He doubted the baseball cap he’d pulled low was enough of
a disguise. Even if it made someone curious, they could work
backward from that point, finding out that the plane had left the city
Harlan had been in, and that his car had been parked in the same hotel
that Mitch had been staying in. All it would take was one member of
the pack watching the news at the right time.

“You okay in there?” came Mitch’s call from the bedroom.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Harlan called back. He glanced down at his

bloody knuckles and pushed them under the spray. “Just a little
accident.”

I’ll just have to be even more careful.
By the time Harlan finished his shower, Mitch was up, dressed,

and bearing coffee. Harlan took it gratefully in his cut hand.

JC Holly

“You punch something?” Mitch asked, as he sat on the small

couch opposite the bed.

“I owe you a bathroom tile,” Harlan said. “My foot slipped and I

threw my hand out, and…” He shrugged. “It’ll heal.”

He didn’t want to worry Mitch unduly. As he pointed out to

himself, the chances of the pack locating him were slim, if they were
even looking. For now he’d keep Mitch in the dark. He sipped his
coffee to hide his sudden frown. Why did keeping a secret from Mitch
bother him? They were close, sure, but they still barely knew each
other. By the evening the guy may never want to see Harlan again.
That thought twisted his guts in a way that spoke volumes. He was
falling for the guy. Hard.

“So, today,” Harlan said, changing the subject. “I’ll warn you

now. I know you said you didn’t want me to go easy on you, but
saying it and experiencing the result are two entirely different things.
I’m going to work you so hard you’ll hate me.”

“I doubt that part,” Mitch said with a smirk. “But I understand.”
“Good.” Harlan swigged some coffee, rolling it around his mouth

before continuing. “I figure that we’ll stick to the endurance side of
things for today, since they can be done about the house. You have a
gym, right?”

Mitch nodded. “Basement. It’d probably do some good for us to

do some stuff out back, too. Since I told the reporter at the airport that
you were my personal trainer, it would make sense if I was spotted
running circuits with you or something.”

“Sure. We’ll warm up outside, then bring it inside for the stuff

that might make photographers a little snap-happy.”

“Like what?”
“I intend to see what you’re capable of,” Harlan said. “You may

not know it yet, but you’re already much stronger and fitter than you
were a week ago, and we don’t want anyone else seeing you lift more
than you should be capable of, for example.”

Mitch frowned. “I don’t feel any stronger, really.”

The Rock Star and the Wolf

“That’s because it’s gradual, and you’ve not pushed yourself yet.”

Harlan gestured to the cup in Mitch’s hand. “You could probably
crush that if you tried.”

Mitch looked down at the cup, then back at Harlan. “I’m doubtful,

I gotta be honest. Besides, this is my favorite mug.”

Harlan laughed and glanced at the bedside alarm clock. It was just

before eight. He would have liked to have started earlier, but they’d
had a “busy” night. He tried not to think about that, though, as it was
harder to exercise with a raging boner.

“Right.” He stood and stretched, then realized he had nothing to

wear but the clothing he’d stolen. “I don’t suppose you have anything
that would fit me?”

* * * *

Mitch stepped out of the back of the house and took in a deep

breath, then promptly sneezed three times in a row. Harlan chuckled
and slapped him on the back as he walked past.

“Lot of scents out there.”
Mitch rubbed his nose. “Forgot how powerful my sense of smell

is now.”

“Just wait till you try it in your other form.”
Huh. Mitch hadn’t even considered that. If his human ears, nose,

and eyes could do so much, just how powerful would they be when he
finally shifted? The thought was equal parts exciting and terrifying.
He could still clearly remember the sound of Harlan’s shift, after all.

He turned his attention back to the present. Harlan was stretching

his joints in readiness for the morning’s work. Mitch had found him
some suitable running pants and a shirt from his “ordered the wrong
size but too lazy to return” selection. They fitted him well, Mitch
noticed, as the man bent low and touched his toes.

“Yum,” Mitch said.

JC Holly

Harlan straightened and stuck out his tongue. “None of that. Start

stretching.”

Mitch walked over and took his place opposite the man, facing

him so he could see what Harlan was doing, then mirrored his moves.

“Good,” Harlan said. “Wolves don’t really need to stretch, but it’s

good practise. Plus it looks good if someone is snapping photos.”

Mitch grinned and shook his head. “Can you even smell anyone?”
“Nope, but I’m paranoid and have experience with big-ass zoom

lenses. A decent photographer doesn’t have to be anywhere near.”

The stretches soon finished, and Harlan led Mitch away from the

pool area and onto the soft grass beyond. The house came with a huge
amount of land that Mitch never really used other than for the odd
game of Frisbee. It was ideally suited to running, though.

Harlan started off at a leisurely jog, and Mitch followed suit,

running alongside. He doubted they’d stay at the slow pace forever, so
he made sure to appreciate the bright sun and cool breeze while he
was still able to think and run at the same time.

“What was it like when you were, uh…” Mitch searched for a

suitable word. “Turned?”

“Nothing like this,” Harlan said, his face expressionless. “I was

turned by a powerful wolf, but he was more of a ‘sink or swim’ kind
of guy. The short version is that he told me to never bite anyone, and
that if I was still alive in one year, I should look him up.”

“Wow. That’s harsh.” Mitch didn’t know what else to say.
“Yeah. It worked, obviously, but at the time I hated him.”
“But you went back to him after the year?”
Harlan nodded. “Though not for the reason he expected. I went to

kill him.”

Mitch stumbled in surprise, but somehow managed to throw his

other foot ahead and keep his balance. “Seriously?”

“Like I said, I hated him. When he turned me, I thought he’d take

me under his wing and teach me all his secrets, not cast me out. So I
spent the year training my body and mind, then tracked him down.”

The Rock Star and the Wolf

Harlan smiled. “He kicked my ass from here to Alaska, then offered
me a job. He and I still laugh about it to this day.”

Mitch shook his head in response. “I think I prefer this teaching

technique.”

“Oh, me too.” He slapped Mitch on the ass. “Now run faster,

bitch.”

Mitch picked up the pace and Harlan easily matched it, to no great

surprise.

“We’re going to run for another thirty minutes or so,” Harlan said.

“Then we’ll do some push-ups and the like, then head inside.”

“Thirty minutes?” Mitch turned to his teacher. “I haven’t run more

than five minutes in years.”

Harlan smirked. “Are your legs aching?”
Mitch frowned as he realized that they weren’t. Not at all. The last

time he’d run anywhere was from one end of a stage to the other, and
even that had left him panting slightly. Harlan laughed and sped up.
Mitch grinned and followed.

The time passed quickly, as they used the time to talk about their

lives and family. Mitch wasn’t surprised to hear that Harlan’s folks
were dead, due to his age, but it was still a sad thing to hear. Mitch’s
own parents were still alive and kicking, currently on a luxury world
cruise that he’d bought for their anniversary.

Harlan also talked about his early years as a shifter, back in the

late forties and early fifties, and the hardships involved. Back then
communication between packs was harder, so there were far more
territorial disputes. Harlan told him that his first few years had been a
trial of fire, in terms of fighting.

“Cheap flights and the Internet help,” he said. “We can all

converse, even video conference if need be, and things are settled
with a lot less hassle. Most of the time, anyway,” he added.

“But there are still disputes.”
“Of course. You get asshole shifters just like you get asshole

humans.”

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“Humans?” Mitch cocked his head. “You make it sound like

shifters are no longer the same species.”

Harlan shrugged. “I don’t mean it in a negative way, or in a

superior way. We’re just different. You too, now.”

“I suppose. I don’t really feel different, just improved. I suppose

once I shift, though, I might view things differently.”

“Literally.” Harlan slowed to a walk. “That’s enough running.

Let’s head back to the poolside.”

Once at the pool, Harlan made Mitch drop and do fifty push-ups,

then the same number of sit-ups, before pulling him up with a strong
arm and leading him inside.”

“Well, that wasn’t too bad,” Mitch said, his eyes on his own arms.

“I barely even felt them.”

“I should hope not,” Harlan said, as he headed for the staircase

that led to the gym. “Like I said before, that was only the warm-up.”

* * * *

While Mitch slaved away on the treadmill, Harlan decided he’d

work out on the punch bag. By the looks of it, the thing had never
been used. A pair of black gloves hung from the hook that supported
the bag. Harlan left them there. They made boxing easier, sure, but he
wasn’t looking to become a boxer.

He started light, testing the weight and swing of the bag as he

dodged around each side, jabbing every now and again. His cut
knuckles complained a little, but he was happy to find that his neck no
longer pained him. He built up his speed and power, all the while
keeping an eye on Mitch. The guy was beyond speech at that point,
but Harlan still liked to watch his ass move.

Harlan had to give him credit. After the work outside, Harlan had

the guy on a rowing machine at max resistance for an hour without a
break, followed by some work with weights that Mitch was certain he
wouldn’t be able to lift—Harlan himself wasn’t entirely sure—then a

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101

mix of more push-ups, sit-ups, and chin-ups, ending with skipping.
After that Harlan had pointed to the treadmill and told him to run until
told to stop. That had been an hour ago, and while the man was
clearly exhausted he was still going, a look of sheer determination on
his sweat-covered face.

He hadn’t told him, but Harlan knew decades-old shifters that

couldn’t do what Mitch had managed. Brubeck must have been quite
the old wolf. Maybe Mitch will be the lover who can finally keep up
with me. He slammed his fists into the bag faster and allowed his
mind to wander back through his history.

He’d had many lovers over the years, both human, shifter, and in

one case half demon, but none of the relationships had lasted. He
cared little about most, but a couple still hurt. The issues had always
been the same. Either they couldn’t adapt to his lifestyle, or he
couldn’t adapt to theirs.

Mitch seemed to accept Harlan’s job easily enough, which was a

relief, and he certainly had the stamina to keep up with Harlan, both
sexually and in general. The rockstar thing was a new one for Harlan,
but it helped that Mitch was so down to earth. Harlan was confident
he could make it work. As long as Mitch wanted to, that was.

Harlan called for Mitch to stop and tried to hide a grin as the man

yelled, “Thank fuck!” at the top of his lungs. Harlan turned to face the
man and prepared himself for a verbal barrage of obscenity, as was
the case whenever he trained someone. Instead he found Mitch
grinning wide.

“You enjoyed that?” Harlan asked, hiding his surprise badly.
“Hell no,” Mitch gasped. “I’m ruined.”
“Then why the grin?”
“Because I did it, Harlan. I fucking did it!” He danced on the spot.

“I took everything you threw at me and I’m still standing.”

Harlan laughed and closed the man in a tight hug. Mitch hugged

back, just as hard.

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JC Holly

“You’re my best student by far,” Harlan said. “And I mean that

literally. The strongest, the fastest, and the toughest.” He stepped back
and held the man at arm’s length. “Top of the class.”

Mitch grinned again. “I am wonderful, aren’t I?”
“Definitely.”
Harlan leaned in and kissed the man softly, then again, harder.

Mitch closed the gap between them and reciprocated. Harlan smirked
and Mitch pulled away, an eyebrow raised.

“What’s so funny?”
“After all that exercise, you’ve still got the energy to get a hard-

on.” Harlan reached down and massaged Mitch’s stiff cock through
his pants. “See?”

“Hey, I’m a guy. It’s what we do.” Mitch colored. “Not that I

think I’ve got the energy to actually do anything with it.”

Harlan chuckled and gestured to a bench, where they both sat.

“It’s rest time anyway. We’ll take five, then head upstairs and grab
something to eat. No doubt you need it.”

“You have no freaking idea. I could eat a horse, shoes and all.”
“Steak, then.” Harlan nodded and stood. “You’re about to witness

something incredible.”

“I am? What is it?”
“I’m going to cook.”

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Chapter Fourteen

Mitch settled on a stool beside the smaller of the two tables in the

kitchen. “I thought you didn’t cook?”

“I do on special occasions.” Harlan stuck his head in the fridge

and pulled out two packaged steaks. “Knew I’d smelled these last
night.” He tossed them onto the worktop beside the hob. “Besides,
you’re so hungry you couldn’t tell if it tasted good or not.”

“You have a point. I’ll take mine rare. Guess the wolf is starting to

assert itself.”

Harlan nodded, his back to Mitch as he threw some butter into the

frying pan. “That happens when you tap into your primal side, like
you did today.”

“I did?”
“Sure. Heavy exertion. It always gets the wolf’s attention.”
“Then I’m surprised I’m not howling.” Mitch stretched his aching

legs under the table. “I could sleep for a week.”

“You let out a few growls,” Harlan said, looking back with a grin.

“And we recover fast, remember? You’ll be feeling worlds better in
an hour or two.”

Mitch groaned. “You’d better not be hinting at more exercise.”
Harlan snorted. “No, not today. Though we need to start looking

for a suitable place for your first shift.”

“What are you looking for in particular? I know the area pretty

well.”

“Somewhere quiet, deserted, a good way from civilization would

be good.”

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JC Holly

Mitch drummed his fingers on the table as he thought. “Tough to

find around here. Plus, as soon as I leave the house you can guarantee
someone will follow. Why does it have to be far from people?”

Harlan paused in his cooking and looked back at Mitch. “It’s

not… The first shift. It hurts.” He swallowed. “A lot.”

Mitch nodded and tried to ignore the twist of his stomach. “So I

might scream.”

“No might about it. It gets better, but the first is bad. We don’t

want anyone coming to see what’s going on.”

“All right, so quiet, with nobody in earshot.” He smiled. “I know

just the place.”

“You do? That’s great.”
“Yup. I’ll show you after we’ve eaten.”

* * * *

Harlan followed Mitch to the back of the house, but instead of

going out the back door like he expected, Mitch led him to a small
library. As Harlan watched, dumbfounded, Mitch crossed the room
and pulled at a bookshelf. Only it wasn’t a bookshelf. It was a
disguised door. Mitch turned back, grinned, then pointed inside.

“Welcome to my recording studio,” he said. “Complete with the

best soundproofing money can buy.”

“Well, look at that.”
The bookshelf door led into a small lounge with two doors and

two windows at the far end. Behind the windows were two rooms, a
recording room and an editing booth. From what Harlan could see, the
editing booth had enough dials and switches to baffle him completely.
The walls of the recording room were lined with soundproofing foam.

It made perfect sense to use the place—it couldn’t be more

private, and the familiar surroundings may help Mitch—but it seemed
wrong, somehow. Nature was a part of the shifter lifestyle, and
shifting for the first time indoors was practical but spiritless.

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105

“That’ll work,” Harlan said, grudgingly. “Though we’ll need to

head out of doors at some point soon.”

“Oh, sure,” Mitch said. “I mean, I’d rather do it in the wild,

surrounded by nature instead of speakers and microphones, but this is
safer.”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking.” Harlan slapped Mitch on the

shoulder. “You must be smart.”

“Must be. So, uh, when are we planning to do it?”
“Tomorrow. Probably.” He shrugged. “We’ll see how you feel.

For now, though, we have more training to do.”

“More? You said we were done.”
“I changed my mind.” Harlan grinned. “It’s your own fault for

recovering so damn quickly.”

Mitch sighed, but it was clear he was more excited than put out.

“All right, but you have to match whatever I do.”

“Deal.”

* * * *

The sun had set before Harlan called an end to the day’s exertions.

The man had pushed Mitch to his breaking point, and then way past it.
And Mitch had enjoyed every damn minute.

He’d never worked so hard in his life. Harlan had made him use

every single muscle in his body—some that hadn’t seen a workout in
a decade—and carefully watched the results. Mitch wasn’t sure
whether he felt like a student or a lab rat, but either way he was pretty
sure he passed with flying colors.

As promised, Harlan had worked out alongside and had completed

each task with half the effort. Then again, the guy hadn’t worked out
as much in the morning. Mitch doubted that was the reason, though.

As soon as they were finished, they had headed into the shower

together, and Mitch was pleased to find that neither he nor Harlan was
completely spent. They’d fooled around a little under the water,

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JC Holly

mostly kissing and touching, but hadn’t taken it further than that.
Mitch wanted to, but Harlan said he wanted to make sure Mitch was
recovered first. It was frustrating, but also nice that the guy cared
enough to hold back. Given the look in Harlan’s eyes when he’d said
it, though, it had taken a good amount of determination. Mitch was
pretty sure that, with a few well-placed lewd comments, he could
break through Harlan’s gentlemanly restraint.

After the shower they lounged on the bed, watching a music

channel on the TV. Thankfully only a few songs by The Twisted
Nails were played. Mitch hated seeing himself in the videos. They
were decided upon by his record company, and generally contained an
abundance of women, multiple over-the-top action scenes, or both.
Harlan smirked at them, but didn’t mock. Mitch was sure he wanted
to, though.

The phone rang, and Mitch rolled to the side of the bed to answer.

The caller display reported that it was someone from his security
team.

“What’s up?” he asked.
“Hey, boss. Sorry to bother you this late, but we spotted a couple

of prowlers near the gate. We scared them off, but I thought you’d
want to know.”

Mitch sighed. No doubt a couple of fans, trying to sneak onto the

grounds. It wouldn’t be the first time. “Thanks. I’ll make sure the
doors and windows are locked.”

“I can head over and keep watch if you need me.”
“No, I’m good. Let me know if you see anyone else, though.”
The guard agreed and wished Mitch a good night. He hung up and

turned to Harlan, who was already frowning. Apparently he’d caught
the whole conversation. Shifter senses. That’ll take some getting used
to.

“Prowlers?” Harlan asked.

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107

“Yeah. I get it often enough that it doesn’t exactly keep me up at

night.” Mitch stood and stretched. “Still, I’d better check the doors
and set the alarm.”

“I’ll keep you company.”
“Worried about me?”
“Yes.” Harlan smiled. “Though judging by today, soon I won’t

need to.”

Mitch linked his arm with Harlan’s. “Indeed. Soon I’ll be kicking

your ass.”

Harlan smiled, but it looked forced. Mitch didn’t mention it,

though, and they walked from room to room, checking windows and
doors. Harlan occasionally scented the air, too, which made sense.
Why have a superpower if you’re not going to use it? Mitch did the
same, but he still needed practice so he didn’t place much conviction
in anything he picked up.

As they headed to the back door, Harlan suddenly moved ahead,

then slipped out of the door. Mitch moved to follow, but Harlan thrust
a hand behind him, signaling for him to wait. After a long moment,
Harlan reappeared, his frown returned.

“What is it?” Mitch asked.
“Shifters. They didn’t come onto the grounds, but they spent at

least a little time by the fence.” Harlan closed the door and flipped the
lock, then tested it with a swift tug.

Mitch chewed at his lip. “Were they from Brubeck’s pack?”
“I can’t be certain. I didn’t recognize their scents, but I doubt that

the entire pack was at the meeting. Only a fool would do that, since
we so easily remember scents. To an older shifter it’s like
remembering a face.”

“What should we do?”
Harlan sighed and glanced about the room for a moment, his fists

clenching and relaxing. “Nothing. If they had intended to attack, they
would have done so. We’ll just lock up, set the alarm, and go back to

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what we were doing. Tomorrow I’ll walk the perimeter and see what I
find.”

“I’ll come with you.”
He shook his head. “I’d love you to, but I don’t know what I’ll

find.”

“I can handle myself,” Mitch insisted. “I used to study

kickboxing.”

“Against humans. Even with your new strength and speed, a

shifter in wolf form could tear you apart. You need to get used to
shifting, as well as using your new instincts, before you go against
someone who might want to do you harm.”

Mitch tried not to take offence, but it was hard work. He clenched

his jaw and nodded, then headed to the front door to lock it. He knew
Harlan was right, of course, but being told he was useless was not
something he wanted to hear. Harlan must have noticed Mitch’s new
attitude, as he put a hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll train you to fight soon. Your background in a martial art will

help, but shifter fighting is more about letting your wolf take over,
regardless of what form you’re in. Once we’ve dealt with your first
shift, we’ll move on to self-defense.”

Mitch nodded again. “All right.” He took a breath. “In that case, I

shift tomorrow morning.”

“You’re sure?”
“I am.”
Harlan kissed him on the forehead. “I look forward to seeing you

in your fur.”

Mitch smiled, then turned to lock the front door and set the alarm.

So much for his idea of seducing Harlan that evening. They both had
way too much on their minds.

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109

Chapter Fifteen

Despite having only slept for four hours, come six in the morning

Harlan was awake and walking the grounds of Mitch’s home. He felt
a little guilty about not letting Mitch come with him, especially given
that it looked like it was going to be a glorious morning, but he’d
rather have a pissed off boyfriend than a dead one.

The scents he’d picked up last night were definitely those of

shifters, and seemed to have come from the east, so that’s where
Harlan started, following the line of the ten-feet-high and spike-
topped metal fence. The air was still, which helped the task, as it
meant he wasn’t assaulted by so many scents.

In the tall grass on the other side of the fence lay the odd piece of

trash, cans, and discarded candy wrappers mostly, no doubt left by
fans waiting around in the hopes of spotting Mitch or one of his
famous visitors. Harlan couldn’t really see the point. He’d never been
interested in celebrity. They were just other human beings, only with
more money and nicer stuff, and that was hardly a reason to elevate
someone above others.

His task would have been easier if he could shift into wolf form

and use his senses to their fullest, but Mitch would likely have a hard
time explaining to his security staff that the wild animal on his
grounds was perfectly safe and didn’t need to be shot at.

After a few minutes of methodical searching and scenting the air,

he found the first clues. In an area a few feet from the fence, near one
of the rear corners of the compound, there was a patch of tamped-
down grass. The air was thick with the scent of at least two shifters,
though it appeared that they had stayed in human form, probably in

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case they were spotted. And spotted they had been. Scents of humans,
sweat, and gun oil came from the opposite direction to which Harlan
had come, from the guards that had run over to get rid of the
trespassers. There had been no scuffle. Likely the shifters had smelled
the guards coming before they ever saw them and fled.

A reflection caught his eye and he glanced up to find a security

camera mounted on one of the fence’s tall prongs. So that was how
the guards knew they were there. The cameras made him feel a little
more secure in the house, but they also stopped him from vaulting the
fence to try and track the scents back the way they had come from.
Instead he made a mental note of the scents, should he come across
the shifters again, then headed back to the house.

Mitch was waiting for him in the kitchen, and Harlan greeted him

with a tight embrace and a long kiss. Mitch reciprocated, then gave
Harlan a bemused smile afterwards.

“What was that for?”
Harlan shrugged. “I need a reason?”
“Oh, I’m not complaining,” Mitch said with a grin. “So, did you

find anything?”

“Two shifters were by the rear corner last night, near the trees.

They either saw the camera, or heard the guards, and bolted.”

“Most times when a fan is out there, they stay around that area. If

you head out from that corner and into the trees, you’ll eventually hit
an old walking trail. There’s even an area to park if you go far
enough.”

Harlan took a proffered coffee cup and downed its contents in one

gulp, wincing slightly as the hot liquid scorched its way down his
throat. “I need to go and check it out.” He caught Mitch’s momentary
frown. “Later, though. Scents hang around long enough that it’s not
urgent.”

Mitch sipped at his own coffee. “So, what do I need to do to

prepare for my first shift? Any meditation, or chanting, or anything?”

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111

“Only if you want to. Your body already knows what to do, so all

you really need to do is take your clothes off and will the change.”

“Will it? What do you mean?”
“It’s hard to describe,” Harlan said. “You think about being a

wolf, and this…pull manifests. You let yourself by pulled and the
shift begins. The same thing works in reverse, too. It’ll make sense
once we begin.”

“Well, let’s get started.”

* * * *

Harlan stared at Mitch. “Now? Are you sure?”
Hell no, I’m not sure. I’m about to go through probably the most

painful experience in my life and turn into a friggin’ wolf. “Yeah, I’m
sure. You need to get out and scout, and I need to meet with the guys
later to discuss some album stuff. They called while you were out. It’s
now or tomorrow.”

Harlan pulled Mitch close, his strong hands on Mitch’s forearms.

“We could do it tomorrow if you wanted to.”

Mitch shook his head. “If I put it off, I’ll keep on putting it off.

It’s now or never.”

Harlan nodded once, then headed toward the library, his hand

tight on Mitch’s, who squeezed back just as hard.

It wasn’t that he was scared of the pain, or of the change itself.

More the end result. He’d be a wolf, for God’s sake. A completely
different species, with four legs and fur. Would he know how to walk
and run straight away? What about his tail? How the hell did someone
control a tail? He could ask Harlan, but he didn’t want to come across
as overly worried. The guy was probably worried enough has it was,
what with this pack of assholes after him. No, it was easier to change,
figure things out for himself, and make Harlan proud.

“You know,” Harlan said, as they passed into the library, “this

room is beautiful. I doubt I’ve read this many books in my life.”

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JC Holly

“Me neither,” Mitch replied, then pointed to one shelf. “Those are

the ones I’ve read. The rest are ones I bought as a bulk thing. I had to
fill the shelves somehow.”

Harlan laughed. “Are they even books you like?”
“Oh, sure. I called up a couple of local stores and told them to

send me a selection of fantasy and science fiction. I’ve got series from
all the big names, and stuff by people I’ve never heard of.” He
shrugged. “I’ll get to it all soon enough.”

“Unfortunately your new abilities don’t extend to speed-reading.”
“Damn shame. At least the long life will help.”
“Definitely.”
Harlan opened the fake bookshelf and Mitch stepped into the

lounge behind. Normally the room calmed him. It was his retreat from
noise and stresses. When the band came over he wouldn’t even let
their friends inside. It was for music, and music alone. Today, though,
it was for something new. Something terrifying.

He jumped as Harlan pulled the door shut behind them, closing

them in darkness for a moment before the automatic lighting kicked in
and bathed the lounge in a low and warm light. Harlan put a strong
hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently.

“Now’s the time for questions,” he said, softly. “I know you’re

scared, so ask away. It doesn’t matter how silly it seems.”

Mitch nodded and crossed the room to sit on one of the two small

suede couches. He stared at his hands and tried to imagine them with
fur and claws. It seemed impossible. He closed his fists and thumped
them on his knees in an attempt to keep his focus.

“Walking,” he said, after a moment. “Will I have to learn to walk

again? I mean, I’ll have double the legs and none of the arms.”

“It’s all instinctual. You’ll just know. Same goes for all

movements and uses. When you need to run you’ll be able to, and
when you overheat you’ll get the urge to pant, just like a regular
wolf.”

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113

“I’m glad. What about language. I know you heard me just fine

after you shifted, but how will I talk to you? Can a shifter understand
barks?”

“No, but in a lot of cases we can sense moods, which is often

good enough. Other than that wolves who run together work out a
series of gestures and sounds beforehand, and decide who will lead in
cases where that’s necessary.”

“So one bark for yes, two for no?”
Harlan smiled. “That, or we’ll simply nod or shake our head.

Obviously that may draw odd looks if we’re being watched, but that’s
rarely an issue. Other than that we can paw the ground, wag our tails,
blink, growl, and a bunch of other stuff. You’ll get the hang of it.”

“All right.”
“Anything else you want to know?”
Mitch shook his head. “The rest is stuff I can figure out

afterwards.” When I’m a frickin’ wolf. “I suppose we should start.”

“Whenever you’re ready.”
He stood. “If that was the case we’d be in here till next week. So,

how do we do this?”

Harlan glanced around the room for a moment. “You need to be in

the largest room, ideally, which would be the recording room. Since
these are soundproofed rooms, though, I need to either be in the
recording room with you, or in the editing booth with the sound on so
I can talk to you.”

“Would it bother you much if you were in the same room as me?”

Mitch felt his cheeks color. “I mean, you don’t have to, if you don’t
want to watch the change.”

Harlan smiled as he stood. “Mitch, I’ve seen many changes. They

don’t bother me as much as they would you. I’d be happy to be with
you, if it’d put your mind at ease.”

“It would, yeah.” Mitch glanced at the recording room door and

swallowed hard. “Right, let’s do this.”

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Harlan opened the door for Mitch, then crossed to the exit door to

make sure it was locked, before heading inside the foam padded
room. While Harlan was moving chairs and instruments left from the
previous session with the band, Mitch began sorting through the
various cables that crisscrossed the room, unplugging what he could
and simply brushing aside what he couldn’t. In short order, the room
was as clear as it was going to get.

Mitch stood in the middle of the room and began to undress,

handing Harlan his clothes. Harlan folded them and placed them in
the corner, well out of the way.

“Now, when you’re shifted, you’ll be weak,” Harlan said. “This is

your first, and your body has to learn to adapt to the new form. The
best thing to do is to just sit for a few minutes and get used to your
senses. Don’t try to walk until you feel you can do it safely.”

“Got it.” He pulled his last item of clothing, his boxers, down and

tossed them to Harlan. “You can keep those if you like.”

Harlan laughed. “I have no need for the clothes when I have

unrestricted access to their contents.”

Mitch had to laugh, and shook his head. “Right, so what do I do?”
“Close your eyes and get down on all fours.”
“Hey, I know this position.”
Harlan snorted. “Quiet, you.”
Mitch did as he was told. “So I have to do this each time?”
“Not at all. It just helps on the first few. You’ll find it easier to

keep your balance.” Footsteps hinted at Harlan’s movement. “Now,
concentrate on the thought of becoming a wolf. Want it.”

“Got it.”
Mitch focused on becoming a wolf. On sprouting fur, fangs,

claws. On running wild between the trees and under a warm sky. He
frowned as he felt a pull in his core, as if he was trying to turn inside
out starting from the stomach.

“I feel weird,” he said.
“That’s the pull. Relax and let it come.”

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115

“I’m afraid, Harlan.” He took a breath as the pull became

stronger. “What if it goes wrong?”

“It can’t,” Harlan said, his voice soft. “It’s not possible. Your

body only knows two forms. Human and wolf. If you’re one, you can
only become the other.”

Mitch nodded once and let his body take over.

* * * *

As the change came over Mitch, he let out a scream that Harlan

remembered well from his own first shift. Immediately he felt guilt
for not telling Mitch just how painful the first time was. It was
unavoidable, though. If he’d been honest Mitch would never have
wanted to shift.

Shifters had experimented with painkillers in the past, but none

had ever worked. There was a reason surgeons didn’t just use aspirin
during major surgery.

The man managed to hold his balance throughout, which was

impressive. Most new shifters fell, either due to the loss of
equilibrium, or from the sheer mind-numbing pain of all their bones
breaking and rejoining in new positions. Even The Ancients disliked
the shift, and they’d been doing it for uncountable years.

The process took longer than usual, again since it was the first, but

was still over in less than a minute, leaving a panting wolf where a
human had once been. Mitch whimpered once, then jumped as he
realized he’d made a sound that wasn’t human. He glanced down to
look at his paws, then back up at Harlan, who smiled and crouched by
him.

“Sit down, Mitch.”
Mitch did as he was told, first moving to his haunches, then lying

down entirely, his head on his paws, his gaze still on Harlan. The pain
in his eyes was clear, but it would fade soon.

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JC Holly

“Ignore it,” Harlan said. “Concentrate on a sense. Your hearing at

first. You’ll notice that soundproofing isn’t so effective to a wolf’s
ears.”

Even to Harlan’s trained ears, sounds from outside could be heard.

Even cars passing at the end of the long driveway. Mitch’s eyes
widened as he no doubt started to detect the same.

“It’s another reason I like to do the first shift in the wild,” he

explained. “Less noise.”

Mitch opened his mouth and began to pant, his eyes darting about

the room. Harlan assumed he was testing the acuity of his vision.

“Oh, and I’m sure you’ll be happy to know that you’re fucking

gorgeous,” Harlan said with a grin. “Sleek, black, powerful.”

Mitch chuffed once and his tail wagged side to side, making him

jump to his feet and spin to try and watch it. Harlan laughed.

“Hey, don’t give wolves a bad name.” Mitch stopped and turned,

then walked slowly back to Harlan, who scratched his head between
the ears. “Okay, since this is the first shift, I don’t want you doing too
much, but I also don’t want you shifting back just yet. I want you to
try and sleep a little. After all the exertion you won’t find it hard.
Besides, wolves can nap any time, just like dogs.” He kissed Mitch on
the head. “Settle down and close your eyes. I’m not going anywhere.”

Mitch barked once, more to see what it sounded like, Harlan

guessed, then settled back onto his paws and closed his eyes. Harlan
lay down beside him, one arm over Mitch’s back, and did the same.
Sleep didn’t come so easily to him, but he figured that he might need
the rest if he came across pack members later. He doubted they would
be looking to talk.

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117

Chapter Sixteen

Mitch wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep for, but he did know

it was some of the best sleep he’d had in a very long time. As he came
to, pain worked its way back into his joints, but it was a tenth of what
it had been, and was easily bearable.

He opened his eyes and just for a second panicked, as everything

looked wrong. Sharper, more vivid, and taller. He tried to say “huh”
but it came out as a chuff, which kick-started his memory. He glanced
around, then stood slowly and stretched out and shook his head to
clear the fuzz.

I’m a freaking wolf stood in a recording studio, beside my

sleeping lover. He bent and nudged Harlan with his snout. The man
stirred, his eyelids flickering before they opened fully. He beamed as
he saw Mitch and reached up to scratch his head. Mitch cocked his
head as the man did it. Something so simple should not feel that good,
he decided. His tail wagged, and he was pretty sure he didn’t tell it to.

“How are you feeling?” Harlan asked as he shifted to a seated

position. “The pain has faded?”

Mitch nodded.
“Once you’ve shifted a few times you’ll only really feel it for a

few minutes directly after the shift. Also, it hurts a lot less to shift
back to human form. Way less.”

That was a relief. Mitch wasn’t sure if he could have taken the

same again. With a chuff, he backed away from Harlan and focused
on the idea of becoming human once more, then let the shift happen.

Harlan had lied.

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JC Holly

Pain ripped through his core, as his entire body broke and

realigned, forcing a howl from his previously clamped-shut jaw. He
tried to distract himself from the pain, but it was impossible. Every
part of his body had to change, and it was making sure that he felt
every moment. Seconds stretched into eternities before his howl
finally became a human cry. Harlan rushed over and held him as he
shivered from the shock.

“Y–y…” Mitch swallowed, trying to find words.
“Take your time. There’s no hurry to speak.”
“Y–You…lying bastard!” He sucked in air. “That hurt like hell.”
Harlan hugged Mitch tight. “And if I’d told you the truth? You

might never have shifted back.”

Mitch gritted his jaw against the aches in his body and nodded

once to agree. Harlan had a good point, no matter how infuriating it
was to admit he was right. He rocked back onto his haunches, then sat
on the floor, his breathing still heavy.

“I’m not sure I ever want to shift again, if that’s how it feels.”
That wasn’t entirely true. The moment he’d become a wolf, a

whole host of urges came over him, and he wanted to test them all. He
wanted to run, to inspect the world from a wolf’s eyes, ears, and nose.
He even wanted to hunt, which was completely unlike him. It could
all wait, though. Even if the pain lessened each time like Harlan
claimed, taking the step again would take a while.

Harlan no doubt sensed the uncertainty behind Mitch’s statement,

as he didn’t call him on it. Instead he stood and collected Mitch’s
clothes for him.

“I’ll stay till you’re recovered,” he said as he handed Mitch his

pants. “Then I need to track the shifters.”

Mitch nodded and quickly dressed. “I need a sofa, a coffee, and

another steak.”

Harlan grinned. “You take care of the first part and I’ll handle the

other two.”

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119

* * * *

It killed Harlan to have to leave so soon after Mitch’s first shift,

but if he didn’t he’d risk losing the trail Brubeck’s pack mates had
left. The only way he could put a stop to their pursuit was to tackle
them on his own terms, and that meant finding out where they were
hiding.

Mitch hadn’t been very talkative during his meal, anyway. It was

to be expected. The guy had a lot of new information to process all at
once. He’d probably need the time that Harlan was away to come to
terms with everything.

“Shit,” Mitch finally said at the end of the meal. “I’ve got that

band meeting in an hour. I’d forgot. Maybe I can cancel it.”

“No, you should go. A little normalcy might help you work things

out in your head. Normalcy for you, anyway,” Harlan added. “Most of
us don’t have band meetings.”

Mitch smirked. “It’s nothing fancy. We eat junk, we drink beer,

we discuss songwriting and then don’t do any. And you’re probably
right. When do you think you’ll be back?”

Harlan shrugged. “Hard to say. If I find nothing much I’ll be back

before you miss me.”

“And if you find something? Or someone?”
“Could be a while.” He rolled his neck experimentally and was

glad to find no pain. “I’ll take my cell. If you get a pleasant-sounding
text, I’ll be back soon after sending it. If I complain about work, I’ll
be a while.”

Mitch downed the last of his coffee, an eyebrow raised. “How

very covert.”

“It’s a habit I picked up on the job. You never know if someone is

reading the messages.” Harlan stood. “I’d better get going.”

Mitch stood, too, and pulled Harlan close with surprising strength.

“When you get home, I’ll probably have questions.” He rubbed his
groin against Harlan. “And the horn.”

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JC Holly

Harlan slipped a hand under the waistband of Mitch’s pants and

grasped the man’s stiffening cock. “That settles it. I’m definitely
coming back in one piece.”

“Good.” Mitch leant closer and kissed him hard. “Now go and be

a badass.”

On Mitch’s instruction, he headed upstairs to a spare bedroom

located on the side of the house. It was one of only two places that
you could leave the house completely undetected—apparently Mitch
had smuggled a boyfriend in and out that way before. Harlan let
himself into the room and crossed to the window and unfastened its
lock before sliding it open. There was a rope ladder attached to the
ledge that could be unfurled for a quick exit. Harlan left it where it
was and climbed through the space, dropping to the ground with a soft
thud.

To either side of him lay security cameras, fitted onto the high

steel gate. Where he stood, though, was a dead spot in their visions,
leaving him invisible to the security crew. Thick trees stood on the
other side of the fence, which also blocked him from their eyes,
should they happen past. Harlan took a breath of air, confirmed that
nobody was near enough to be an issue, then ran for the fence and
leapt.

He landed most of the way up the fence, his hands only a foot

from the top, then pushed off with his legs and grabbed a thick branch
that hung low. From there he swung into the canopy of the tree and
slid along the branch. He froze as he heard distant steps, followed by
the crackle of a radio.

“The boss wants us to check something on the other side of the

house,” Harlan heard from the radio. “Says he thought he saw
someone.”

The footsteps headed off in that direction and Harlan dropped to

the ground outside Mitch’s home. From there he darted into another
patch of trees, then followed the line to where he had scented the
shifters.

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121

Despite the time since they had left, the scent was still strong.

Harlan took a deep breath and closed his eyes briefly. It would have
been easier if he could have got closer, but the security camera would
have picked him up. Definitely two shifters, both male, and at least
one had carried a gun. Amateurs. Their trail led in the direction that
Mitch had mentioned, and Harlan followed the old walking trail away
from the house.

He relaxed as he got further into the woods, though he stayed

alert. He’d been involved in too many traps—as both the trapper and
prey—to let his guard down entirely. Still, being a little further from
civilization always soothed him. His wolf was almost crying to come
out, but that would have to wait a little while yet.

Whoever they were, they knew what they were doing. Other than

the scent, other clues were few and far between. From the few
footprints he could find it appeared that one male was light, with
average-sized feet that put his height in the five-seven range. The
other shifter was much larger. His footprints were twice as deep, and
larger than Harlan’s, which made him likely well-built and over six
feet. If they were still together they’d be easily spotted.

Harlan walked for another twenty minutes before the trees thinned

and more city sounds could be heard once more. He slowed as he
realized that the scents he’d been following were also becoming
stronger. The shifters were still in the area. Thankfully the wind was
in his favor, so it would be harder for them to sense his approach.

After a few slow minutes he heard the slow rumble of an idle car.

Staying low, he crept to the side of the trail, into the tree cover, then
moved closer to find the two shifters, sat in a car, their attention on a
small television on the dashboard. The windows to the car were rolled
up, which, along with the TV, explained why they hadn’t heard him
coming. They had probably never expected him to pursue in the first
place.

The smaller man sat in the driver’s seat, his fingers drumming on

the wheel. Harlan would have preferred to take out the much larger

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JC Holly

man first, then use that as a way to intimidate the smaller man and get
information, but only one door was accessible to him without risking
being spotted. With a sharp breath, he made his move.

He crossed the space between the trees and car before either

spotted him, and had already wrenched the car door open before the
larger man cried out in surprise. The smaller man whipped his gun
around, but Harlan was faster and smashed the man’s wrist on the
open car door, then wrenched him out onto the dusty parking lot.

The man was fast as a snake and spun out of Harlan’s grip and

jumped to his feet, fists raised and ready for a fight. Harlan backed up
a step, aware that the larger man hadn’t yet made a move.

“Go,” the smaller man called. “Let them know what happened. I’ll

take care of this.”

Harlan cursed silently as the car shot away, wheels screeching as

he floored the accelerator. He’d hoped to get both men, or at least
follow them back to their hideout. He made a note of the license plate
and hoped it was traceable.

“Confident, then,” he said, turning back to his opponent.
The man shrugged, slowly advancing. “Better than Brubeck.

Better than the two you fucked up in the car crash.”

“I should hope so. They were barely worth the effort.”
“That was a nice trick, by the way. Flying through your own

windscreen takes balls.”

Harlan smirked. “Takes a thick skull, too.”
“This is nothing personal, you know.” The man cracked his neck

sharply to one side. “Brubeck was an asshole. But when the alpha
barks, I listen.”

“I can relate.”
The man came in faster than a human was capable of moving,

feigning left. Harlan realized the feint and threw up an arm to block
the fist that came from the right, then lashed out with a punch of his
own. He hit nothing but air as the man danced away again, his feet
shuffling like a professional boxer.

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123

“This ain’t your first time,” Harlan said as he turned to follow the

man.

“Ain’t my last, either.”
He came in again, this time throwing several punches. Harlan

blocked or dodged most, but took a glancing blow to the stomach and
one to the jaw. He lashed out with a kick and the man shot back again,
just out of reach. Harlan shook his head hard and spat a mouthful of
blood onto the dirt, then squared up to the man once more.

“I should thank you,” Harlan said.
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Fighting really gets me going. Soon as I’m done here I’m

going to fuck my boyfriend’s brains out.”

The man sneered. “The rockstar likes it in the ass, eh? Wonder

how much the papers would pay to hear that.”

Harlan snarled at the man. “You’ll never find out.”
“Oh?” The man laughed. “You can’t even hit me.”
That was true. The man made Bruce Lee look like a geriatric. He

came in again, this time scoring two more hits, one of which almost
laid Harlan low. He put a hand to his stomach and ducked slightly, the
pain making him double. Or so he wanted the man to think.

“This is what happens when a pro boxer becomes a wolf,” the

man said, his arms wide and a smile on his face.

He came in again, and again Harlan took hits that threatened to

knock him to the floor. He held his ground, though, and waited.

“Tell me,” the man said. “What were you before you were turned?

I can’t believe the so-called Ancients would hire someone so weak.”

He lunged forward with his right with a blow clearly aimed to end

the fight. Harlan straightened and caught the fist in his hand.

“Gotcha.”
The man’s eyes widened and he pulled back, struggling to free

himself. Harlan kept hold, following the grab with a swift kick to the
man’s stomach. He crumpled to the dirt, gasping.

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JC Holly

“That’s the problem with you speedy fighters,” Harlan said as he

kicked the man onto his back. “You can’t take a punch.” The man
struggled underneath Harlan’s boot, but he wasn’t going anywhere.
“Talk.”

“Fuck you.”
Harlan rolled his eyes. “Weren’t you listening? I’m the one who

does the fucking.” He willed a blade into each hand. “Don’t make me
hurt you.”

“Why not? That’s what you do, isn’t it?” The man spat on

Harlan’s boot. “The Ancients’ judge, jury, and executioner.”

“Only for those who deserve it.”
“And what, precisely, is the criteria?”
“Murder, or close to it.” Harlan leaned in. “And I’m aware that

you’re keeping me talking in the hopes that your fat friend will rescue
you.” He held up a knife and let it fall. It hit the dirt blade first and
sank in several inches. “Given that all I have to do is let go of the
other one, how confident are you that they can get here in time?”

The man gave him a look of absolute hatred. “Fine. What do you

want to know?”

Harlan smiled. “There’s a good dog. Let’s chat.”

* * * *

Mitch couldn’t focus on the band meeting. Even if Harlan wasn’t

off risking life and limb at that moment, there was still the matter of
the first shift. His mind was churning with so many thoughts,
questions, possibilities. When could he shift again? How much less
would it hurt? When could he go for a run with Harlan?

“Hey, Mitch?” Carr snapped his fingers in front of Mitch’s face.

“You here?”

“Sorry.” Mitch glanced at the men sat around his kitchen table.

“Got a lot on my plate right now.”

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125

Carr frowned. “Is it this Harlan guy? He fucking you around?

Because if he is we’ll kick the shit out of him.”

The guys all nodded their agreement. Not even if he was asleep at

the time. Mitch shook his head and took a generous swig of his beer.

“Nah, Harlan’s great. Couldn’t ask for a better guy.”
“Then what’s up, man?” Theo asked. “Not like you to keep things

to yourself.”

“It’s nothing to worry about. Honest. Just tax shit,” Mitch lied.
“Ahh, say no more. If you need a new accountant mine kicks ass.”
The conversation swung back to the new album, and what kind of

theme, if any, they were aiming for this time. Mitch ignored them and
let his mind wander again. Harlan was out on the hunt for two shifters
who were connected to a now deceased vicious murderer. It really put
things in perspective.

“So where is Harlan?” Carr asked, sometime later. “He gone out?”
“Yeah, he had an errand to run. Should be back soon.”
“Back already.”
Mitch looked up to find Harlan walking into the kitchen, a smile

on his face and a large bruise on his jaw. Blood had dried on his
knuckles, too. It wasn’t all his, Mitch’s nose told him.

“Jeez, what the hell happened to you?” Theo asked. “Some

errand.”

Harlan shrugged as he made his way to the sink. “Couple of guys

tried to mug me on the way. They won’t try again.” He smirked. “I
though LA was above such things.”

“You could’ve texted,” Mitch said as he turned on the faucet. “I

was worried.”

“It all happened pretty suddenly. I got back as fast as I could.”
“You sound like an old married couple,” Carr said with a laugh.

“When you’re washed up let me take a look at you, Harlan.”

“Are you flirting with me?” Harlan flicked his hair and batted his

eyelashes. “I’m spoken for, you know.”

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Carr just shook his head. “Shut up and sit down when you’re

clean.”

“He gets serious when health is involved,” Mitch said. “It’s the

doctor blood in him.”

Harlan merely shrugged, then finished washing up and took a seat

while Carr did his thing. Mitch hoped that Harlan’s bruises wouldn’t
heal up while he was being inspected. That would take more than a
little explaining, especially to an ex-doctor.

From Harlan’s posture, it appeared that whatever had happened

had gone well enough, but the man’s expression said otherwise. Mitch
would have to grill him once they were alone. That could be a while,
though, since the meeting hadn’t gotten very far. He’d have to try and
hurry it along, he decided.

After a close inspection, Carr straightened and sat back on his

own stool. “Eh, you’re fine. You must have a thick skull.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Harlan said. “I’ve had worse, and I

heal quick. It’s no big deal.”

“Did you want to file a police report?”
He shook his head. “Given the beating I gave ’em, they won’t be

in any hurry to reoffend.”

Carr just laughed. “You’re tougher than you look, man. Ever

considered becoming a bouncer for a rock band? You wouldn’t
believe how rowdy the fans get some nights.”

“Nah. I’m not one for confrontation normally.”
Mitch tried hard not to laugh at that.

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Chapter Seventeen

While Mitch finished up the meeting, Harlan headed upstairs to

shower.

The fight had left him with a few answers, but not enough. All

he’d managed to find out was that the pack were holed up in an old
motel a few miles out of town, and that there were at least a dozen
shifters. He’d tried to get more information, but apparently someone
had seen them fighting and called the police. Harlan had knocked the
guy out and headed back to Mitch’s place, taking an alternate route
through the trees and keeping an eye out for pursuit.

Such situations almost always ended in one of two ways. Either

the alpha would eventually back down, or Harlan would have to
challenge them on the understanding that if he won, they’d leave him
the hell alone. It was risky, even for a shifter as skilled as he was, but
it worked. Given the aggression of Brubeck’s pack, the latter would
be the outcome.

If Harlan was honest, he welcomed it. A big fight, and it’d be all

over and done with. No alpha in their right mind would welch on an
agreement made before a fight. There was no real harm in losing a
fight, but when an alpha lost their honor, their pack soon followed.

After a few minutes he heard the scrape of stools, followed by

footsteps and the opening of a door. He shut off the shower, dried,
and headed into the bedroom as the growl of several expensive
engines signaled the departing of the other members of The Twisted
Nails. He sat on the bed, wrapped only in a towel, and waited.

Mitch stepped into the room soon after and came straight over,

hugging Harlan tightly. “I’m glad you came back in one piece.”

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“So am I. I didn’t get much information, but now they know I’m

aware of their presence, hopefully they’ll be warier about coming
close.”

He didn’t really believe that, but it was a reassuring thing to say.

Mitch seemed to appreciate it, too. He broke the hug and sat on the
edge of the bed, gesturing for Harlan to do the same.

“Tell me everything that happened.”
Harlan did, leaving nothing out and watching Mitch’s expression

carefully. This was Harlan’s life, after all, and if Mitch couldn’t
accept the nature of it, it was better to know early.

Thankfully Mitch agreed with his methods of extracting

information from the man in the parking lot.

“It’s not like he’d have told you anything if you just asked

politely.”

“Indeed,” Harlan replied, relieved. “The question is what happens

now?”

Mitch nodded. “I’m guessing they’ll retaliate at some point.

They’ll want to stay under the radar, though, so I doubt they’ll assail
the house.”

“More likely that they’ll back off, at least for a few days while

they think about how best to deal with me.”

“So tomorrow isn’t a good day for a run in the hills, then.”
“Unfortunately.” Harlan patted Mitch on the thigh. “As much as I

want to, it’ll have to wait for a little while.”

“I know. It’s okay. It’s more important to me that you stay alive.”
Harlan answered Mitch with a kiss, which left Mitch smirking.
“Should I assume the position, teacher?”
Harlan shook his head as he brushed his fingers over Mitch’s

cheek. “No teacher this time.”

As hungry as Harlan was, this time was different. He wanted

Mitch, but he wanted him completely. He wanted to caress every part
of the man, to make love him to him, not just fuck him.

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Mitch’s smirk disappeared, to be replaced by a wide smile as

understanding dawned. He pulled Harlan back into a kiss, this time
deeper, his tongue probing Harlan’s mouth, only to be met by
Harlan’s own. For the longest time they held the same position, their
hands following the lines of their partner’s body while they kissed.

Harlan broke first, pushing Mitch back gently so he could remove

the man’s shirt, one button at a time, revealing the man’s taut and
flawless skin. He pushed the shirt back off Mitch’s shoulders, then off
completely, throwing it to the floor.

Mitch glanced down at Harlan’s towel. “Pity you don’t have much

for me to pull off.”

“Want me to put something on?”
Mitch laughed and tugged at the tuck on the towel, the pulled it

open. “Mercy.”

Harlan only smiled as he reached for Mitch’s pants, pulling them

to the ground, along with his boxers.

“You mean a lot to me, you know,” he said as Mitch scooted back

onto the bed and lay down. “A lot. I, uh, I don’t fight people in
parking lots for just anyone.”

“Better not,” Mitch said with a grin, though his eyes showed more

than just amusement. “And I think a lot of you, too.”

Harlan climbed onto the bed beside his lover and kissed him softly

on the neck. Mitch sighed softly as Harlan began to work his way
down, kissing and caressing every inch of flesh he encountered. As he
reached a nipple, he took it gently between his teeth, then sucked
softly before pulling away and continuing down.

His right hand moved faster than his mouth and soon found the

tangle of pubic hair just above Mitch’s cock. He felt the man’s
stomach tense for a moment as he brushed the top of his hard cock.
He slid down a little further and grasped Mitch’s shaft, then began to
stroke him.

Harlan moved lower, kissing his way down until his lips met

Mitch’s cockhead. Mitch stiffened again as Harlan took him into his

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mouth. Matching the speed of his slow strokes, he began to bob his
head, sucking softly.

“This, I hadn’t expected,” Mitch said, his breath halting.
Harlan would have smirked if he could. That was one of the

reasons he’d decided to do it. That, and he just couldn’t resist.

As he sucked, he shifted his hand from Mitch’s shaft and slid it

down between his legs, and under. Pushing past cheeks, he found
Mitch’s tight asshole and began to rub around the hot ring of muscle.
Mitch squirmed in response, the blanket shifting as it bunched in his
tightening fists.

With a little pressure, Harlan pushed into Mitch’s ass and began to

slip his finger back and forth as he sucked. His lover only gasped in
reply, his breathing heavier now. Harlan pushed his head further
down on the thick cock, relishing the feel of the hot flesh sliding on
his tongue and pushing against the back of his throat. It had been a
long time since he’d given a blow job, but it all came back soon
enough. He relaxed his throat and slowly took the entire length, until
his nose brushed against Mitch’s stomach.

“Fuck,” Mitch said, his voice strained. “If you keep that up, I

won’t be able to hold on much longer.”

As much as Harlan wanted to bring Mitch to orgasm, he wanted to

do it properly, and come simultaneously. Begrudgingly, he pulled
away again, sliding off Mitch’s cock entirely, then took a breath.

Mitch eyed him, amazed. “I never expected that from you.”
“Why not?” Harlan said, as he teased Mitch’s cockhead with his

fingers.

“I just took you as the hard and fast top.”
“Most of the time,” he admitted. “But when I like a guy, I like to

show him just how much.”

Mitch colored at that, and had to swallow before he replied.

“Thank you. And I feel the same way.”

Harlan shifted up the bed and kissed him on the lips, then moved

to his ear and whispered, “Roll onto your side, then.”

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131

Mitch did as he was told instantly, turning so that he faced away.
“Perfect.”
Harlan ran a hand down Mitch’s side, his skin hot to the touch.

Harlan let his hand trail all the way to the man’s hip, the palm of his
hand on the pale skin of Mitch’s ass cheek. With his other hand,
Harlan reached to the bedside table and took up the lube bottle, then
turned his attention back to his partner.

“Just relax,” he said, as he rubbed some lube onto the tip of his

cock. “Let me do all the work.”

He let out a slow breath to calm himself, then shifted closer to

Mitch and pushed his cock between Mitch’s ass cheeks. Mitch
moaned softly as Harlan found his asshole, then relaxed. Harlan
pushed once and was inside him.

Working slowly, he started with only the tip of his cock, moving it

in and out, enjoying the sensation of penetration, then began to
increase the depth, a little at a time. As told, Mitch stayed still while
Harlan worked, not even stroking himself. Harlan leant over and did it
for him, matching the speed of his own cock.

“Don’t stop,” Mitch muttered.
“Never.”
In short order, Mitch had taken Harlan’s full length, and Harlan

held the position for the longest time. He would never be closer to
Mitch than he was at that moment, so he savored it for a little before
pulling back and resuming his work.

They stayed in the same position for the longest time. Neither

wanted to rush things, and neither wanted to stop. Harlan kept his
movements on Mitch’s cock just as slow, so as to draw out the man’s
pleasure just as Harlan was drawing out his own.

“You feel so good,” Harlan said.
“And you feel so different,” Mitch said, his voice thready.
“Better?”
He shook his head, then reached back and grasped Harlan’s arm.

“Just different. Both have their times.”

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Harlan smiled and kissed Mitch on the neck.
Harlan lost track of time, but after what felt like an hour—though

it was likely nowhere near—he began to build up the speed. Mitch
made no complaints, only moaned softly as Harlan began to stroke his
cock faster, too.

He felt his need to end approach, and sped further, though not to

the almost vicious speeds of last time. As Mitch had said, this was
different. Mitch began to work, too, by pushing back and pulling
forward to extend the strokes. Harlan’s breath began to become
ragged, and he closed his eyes and buried his face in his lover’s neck
as he thrust into him over and over.

The tension began to build in his stomach and balls, and he sped

further still. Mitch was close too, judging by his breathing, and soon
the bed began to creak with their actions.

“I’m coming,” Mitch said.
The words spurred Harlan on, and he began to work Mitch fast as

he slipped back and forth in his tight ass. When he could hold back no
longer, he cried out and came, his cock pulsing as he pumped his load
into Mitch. Mitch exploded a moment later, thick ropes of cum
spurting from his cock and covering the bed.

Finished, Harlan moved his arm to Mitch’s chest and pulled him

close to him, and Mitch placed his hand over Harlan’s.

“I love you.”
Harlan gritted his jaw in an attempt to stop the words, but it was

too late. All he could do now was wait in silence, and hope Mitch
replied.

“I love you too.”

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Chapter Eighteen

Mitch practically danced out of the bedroom the next morning.

He’d barely slept the previous night, thanks to Harlan’s sudden
exclamation, but he felt like he was on top of the world anyway.
Harlan loved him. Loved him. And Mitch had said it back.

The time spent in the kitchen preparing coffee and breakfast was a

blur of giddiness entirely unbecoming of a badass rockstar with a
million screaming fans, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t remember
being so happy.

So of course it had to end quickly.
By the time Harlan came downstairs, Mitch’s good cheer had

disappeared, destroyed by a small white envelope placed in the center
of the table. It had one word on it.

Murderer.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Harlan said, then froze, sniffing the air.

“Perfume?”

“I thought a cleaner had been through,” Mitch said, trying to

steady the hand he held the envelope in. “Then I saw this.”

Harlan frowned as he took the letter, then snarled as he read the

writing. “Brubeck’s pack. They used the perfume to cover their
scent.”

“They could have broken in at any time.” Mitch sat down heavily.

“They could have killed us in our sleep.”

Harlan squeezed his arm. “I would have killed them. They only

managed it because we were sleeping on another floor with a closed
door.”

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Mitch nodded once. The idea that shifters had been in his kitchen

made his skin crawl. It was one thing to listen to stories, or watch
your boyfriend head off to follow tracks, but quite another to see
physical proof lying on a table.

“What does it say?”
Harlan tore the envelope open and glanced at the single sheet

inside. His fist clenched around the paper and he threw it aside.

“It’s a threat.”
“What kind of threat?”
Harlan shook his head and turned to the door. “I need to check on

your security staff. Stay in the house and keep watch.”

Mitch called for him to wait, but it was no use. With a sigh he

dipped and scooped up the letter, then read its contents. Other than an
address with directions, the message was short.

Murderer,
You will come to us and stand trial for your crimes, or we will tell

the world all about your boyfriend. And then we will kill him in front
of you.

* * * *

Harlan hurried through the hall and burst out of the front door at a

run. He could smell blood already, and it wasn’t a shifter’s. The guard
manning the security station by the gate saw him coming and came
out to meet him.

“Mister Shaw just called. I’m checking the surveillance now.”
Harlan nodded once and began to pace by the small wooden hut,

his gaze alternating between the TV screen inside and the ground of
the house.

How the hell could they get past him? Even masking their scents,

he should’ve smelled them coming way before they got near the pool,
never mind the kitchen. He snarled under his breath as he thought
about them walking about Mitch’s home undetected. Once inside they

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could have done a damn sight more than just leave a letter. They
could have trashed the place, started fires… Hell, they could have just
blown the place up. He froze in place.

“So why didn’t they?”
The guard poked his head out of the hut. “Sorry, sir?”
Harlan just shook his head and resumed pacing. The pack wanted

him to meet with them. They wanted a trial, the result of which was
already pretty obvious. But why? Why not just take him out from a
distance and be done with it?

Because I humiliated the alpha.
Once again, Harlan’s attitude had got him in trouble. Not only had

he killed Brubeck, he’d kicked the crap out of two of the alpha’s men
at the original meeting, then crashed two more into a tree stump, then
kicked the crap out of a fifth. Every time someone had come against
Harlan, he’d beat them. And that would hurt the alpha’s leadership.
Before long his pack would start considering him weak, and the worst
possible thing he could do now would be to have Harlan taken out
from a distance. He needed to bring him to the pack, so that they
could see him destroyed by the alpha.

“Here, sir.”
Harlan turned back to the security guard to find him pointing at

the screen. He replayed a short clip on a loop, showing a bush near
the fence shift. A moment later the video went to static.

Harlan watched it a few more times, then gestured for it to stop.

“What happened?”

“Some sort of temporary distortion. There’s nothing but static for

a few seconds, then the screen is clear again. Then later another feed
goes down.” The guard shook his head. “They got over the fence in
seconds, and were back out in less than five minutes. That shouldn’t
be possible.”

Harlan had no words for the man. He could hardly tell him that

the intruders were supernatural creatures. He patted the man on the

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shoulder and headed back to the house. Mitch was waiting by the
door, his gaze flicking about the grounds.

“Well?”
Harlan nodded back to the hut. “They got over in the same place

that they staked out. Stopped the cameras for just long enough to scale
the fence. Whoever was watching probably just thought it was a
minor fault.”

“Fuck.” Mitch rubbed the side of his head, his attention still on the

grounds. “What now?”

Harlan stepped past him into the house and pulled the doors

closed. “I go to them.”

“What!” Mitch shook his head. “That’s not going to happen. No

fucking way.”

“It’s the only way, Mitch.” Harlan flexed his fists. “Nobody

threatens the man I love and lives.”

“There must be another way. Can’t we call the police, or your

Ancients?”

“No, and no.” Harlan headed upstairs to the bedroom, Mitch in

tow. “The police would never catch them if they didn’t want to be
caught. I wouldn’t risk human life, anyway. I don’t know what this
alpha is capable of.”

“And The Ancients?”
“Their policies are very clear in such matters. If I can’t handle it

myself, I’m clearly not capable of performing my job.”

“So they fire you.” Mitch threw his hands up. “Big deal. It’s not

worth your life.”

Harlan turned to his lover and put his hands on the man’s

shoulders. “You don’t understand. There is no leaving the employ of
The Ancients. I know too much.”

“So they’d kill you?”
“That, or lock me up. If the stuff I knew got into the wrong hands

we could end up in a full-scale shifter war. Believe me when I say you
don’t want that.”

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137

Mitch sighed and bowed his head. “So you’re damned either

way.”

“Hey. You make it sound like I’m going to lose.” Harlan winked.

“I don’t lose.”

“Famous last words of many badasses, no doubt.”
He nodded. “You’re probably right. Even if I fail, though, you’ll

be safe. Part of my job’s, uh, bonus package, is complete protection
for loved ones in the case of my death. And I mean complete.”

“That’s not exactly heartening.”
“It’s the best I can do.”
Mitch was silent for a long time, his eyes closed and his breathing

slow. “We’ll go into hiding. I have properties that nobody knows
about. Not even the band.”

“What sort of life is that?”
He smiled. “As long as I have you, what else do I need?”
Harlan had to smile and pulled Mitch close to kiss him on the

forehead. “You’re going to hunker down in this house, and you’re
going to pull all your guards into the house with you.” He held up a
hand as Mitch tried to reply. “You’re going to tell them that someone
made a death threat. Call the police, too, if you want, but don’t tell
them any specifics and don’t show them the letter. In fact burn it. If
I’m not back by nightfall, call the number I’m about to put on your
phone and leave a message on the answering machine that explains
what happened.”

Mitch took a deep breath, then nodded.
Twenty minutes later Harlan stood in the spare room near the

camera dead-spot, the window open and the morning air stirring the
curtains. Mitch stood next to him, arms folded and a neutral
expression on his face.

“You’d better come back in one piece.”
Harlan pulled him into a tight embrace. “I love you, Mitch.

There’s nothing on this planet that could keep me from you.”

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Mitch kissed him softly, then pushed him back. “Go on, then. Go

and kick ass.”

* * * *

Mitch watched Harlan until he was gone from the view of the

window. He’d never felt so useless as he did at that moment. He knew
he could handle himself in a fight against a human, but even with his
shifter abilities, he would be crushed underfoot by any shifter with
more experience—which was every shifter. He rested his head against
the cool wood of the window frame. There’s one thing I can do.

He flipped open his phone and called his agent.

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Chapter Nineteen

Harlan reached the shadow of the woods in a run, then stopped

and began to pull his clothes off, then hung them on a low branch.
Despite his reasoning about the alpha’s shaky position, and despite
the letter having said there would be a trial, he was taking no chances,
and walking through the woods in human form was a risk. If he
shifted he’d certainly be more conspicuous if he had to cross an urban
area, but he’d also be safer from ambushes.

He dropped to all fours and willed the change. He was so

distracted that the pain barely even registered. He’d been in fights
before, but they almost never involved a third party. Most packs had
had honor enough to not stoop to such threats. Brubeck’s pack were
not exactly endearing themselves to Harlan.

As soon as the shift was complete he set off, ears, eyes, and nose

on the alert. He kept to the wooded areas as much as he could, but
there were several occasions when he had to break cover and head
into civilization. Normally he wouldn’t dare expose himself on the
streets of a large city, but there were more important things going on
than a few screaming tourists. He dropped his head and focused on his
goal.

He arrived at the address given less than an hour later. Before

entering the old warehouse, he scouted the area, looking for shifter
reinforcements or other traps. He found nothing so headed to the rear
of the building and shifted back to human form and knocked on the
door.

Inside he heard a scuffle and some hints of whispered voice and a

moment later the door opened wide. A very familiar man stood in the

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doorway. The man from the car crash. Arms folded, imposing bulk
blocking Harlan’s entry, he glanced down at Harlan’s nakedness and
smirked.

“Out streaking, were we?”
“You healed well,” Harlan said as he pushed past him. “I’ll try

harder next time. Where’s the boss?”

“You smug bastard!”
The man rushed at Harlan’s back but was stopped by two other

shifters, one of whom told him to cut it out. “We ain’t to touch him,”
the man said. “You want to piss off Willem?”

“Willem, is it?” Harlan asked as he walked down the short

hallway and out into a larger room packed with shifters. The pack was
bigger than Harlan had thought. “Willem! Time for my trial. Don’t
keep me waiting.”

“You’re cocky, for a dead man,” came a voice from a side room.
“And you appear to be hiding from me.”
Willem stepped out of the small room, eyes wide. He thrust a

finger at Harlan. “I hide from no one. I’m not the one who fled the
town instead of facing me.”

“Happy coincidence, I assure you. Besides, I’ve done nothing

wrong.”

The big man snorted. “Is murder nothing for you, then?”
“On the contrary. I take life very seriously. It’s the only reason

that the people you sent after me are still breathing.”

A ripple of murmurs spread amongst the assembled shifters,

followed by some shouts and threats. Again Harlan heard the man
behind him being held back. Even if he beat the alpha, it looked like
getting out unscathed may prove difficult.

He pushed the thought from his mind for the time being. “So, my

trial.”

Willem gestured to the next room. Harlan started to walk in there,

only to drop to his knees, gasping, as someone punched him in the

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141

kidney. A laugh came from the shifters as two men gripped him by
the armpits and dragged into the next room.

Some of the pack had clearly been busy. They had built a set of

tiered benches along one side of the large room, giving room for at
least forty people to sit in relative comfort. Directly ahead was
another, comfier seat, that was no doubt for Willem. A few feet in
front of that sat a steel chair with wrist and leg restraints welded on.

“Love what you’ve done with the place,” Harlan said, which

gained him a blow to the back of the head, which left him seeing
stars.

“Shut the fuck up,” a voice hissed from behind.
Harlan did as he was told and let them drag him into place and

fasten the steel restraints, locking him into place with hefty padlocks.
He tried to keep his cool, but it was getting difficult. I’m doing this
for Mitch. The words helped, and he raised his head to take in what he
could of the room as Brubeck’s pack began to take their positions.

Other than the seating, the room was entirely nondescript. Plain

unpainted plasterboard walls, a light fitting above his head that made
up for the lack of windows, and that was about it. Somewhere off to
his side, a crackling voice said something about a speeding car on the
highway. Police radio. It made sense, given that Mitch had enough
sway to call in the damn SWAT team if he felt threatened. As well as
that radio, another, quieter one played music. The volume was
increased as a familiar voice started to sing over a thumping bass.
Chuckles spread about the room.

“Hey, it’s your boyfriend,” Willem said as he took up his seat in

front of Harlan. “Fitting.”

Harlan lurched forward in his chair, more to test the restraints than

from anger. “Promise you’ll leave him alone.”

“Why should I do that?”
“Because I left your pack members alive. You know I could’ve

killed them.”

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Willem glared at him, then glanced to the people sat to his side.

“As long as you don’t try anything, he’ll be just fine. He can keep his
little secret, too. For now.” He smirked. “You never know when
information like that will come in handy. I might want a Porsche at
some point.”

Harlan nodded in agreement. He wasn’t worried about them

threatening Mitch’s life, really. The Ancients would see that he was
protected if anything happened to Harlan, and that was as good as
locking the guy in a bank vault for the rest of his days.

What did worry him was the media feeding frenzy that would

come with his outing. Harlan would never have hid it in the first
place, but he understood the reasoning, and that he had the other band
members to think of. So Harlan would keep the secret, and try his
damnedest to stop Willem from telling it, too.

“Let’s get this over with,” he said.
“Very well.” Willem stood. “You killed a member of our pack,

correct?”

“Yup.”
“And you attacked several other members?”
“In self-defense, yes.”
“They were bringing you to me. They did not attack.”
Harlan raised an eyebrow. “And I suppose the guns were just for

decoration, were they?”

“There were no guns.” Willem frowned and turned to look at the

woman who had been in the car. “What is this?”

She looked down, then away. “I just thought… Well, we just

thought…”

“He killed Brubeck,” the man who was sat next to her said. “We

weren’t taking any chances.”

“I said no fucking guns!” Willem turned back to Harlan. “You

bring us down to his level.”

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143

“My level?” Harlan snorted. “Please. I tracked down and executed

a murderer. What you’re doing is the equivalent of trying to kill a cop
for doing his job.”

“Shut your mouth!” Willem lunged forward and socked Harlan on

the jaw.

Harlan opened and closed his mouth a few times, then spat on the

floor. “Let’s cut the bullshit, Willy. This isn’t about Brubeck.”

“It’s not?” Willem laughed and sat back in his chair. “Please, do

tell.”

“At first it was, sure. I killed a member of your pack, and that’s an

insult. Thing is, you saw the evidence I gave you. It was airtight.”

“No, it wa—”
“Airtight,” Harlan said, his gaze on Willem. “You know it was. I

wouldn’t have tracked him for so long if I only needed circumstantial
evidence.”

Willem didn’t reply, but he didn’t tell Harlan to shut up, either.
“Problem is that I humiliated you in the first meeting. I’d

apologize, but you wouldn’t listen. Anyway, that pissed off a few of
your pack. Maybe put a few dissenting opinions amongst them. So
you decide you’d best haul me back in for a good talking to, so the
pack sees you doing something.” Harlan shrugged. “Of course, I got
out of that, which made you look even worse.”

In the background the song had changed to a news report.

Something about breaking news. He put it from his mind for the
moment. There were more important things afoot than some actor’s
stupid name for their child.

“So by this point you’re really getting it in the ear. Maybe some of

the pack are getting really pissy. I mean, how dare I come in, kill a
guy, then stroll off like it’s nothing.” He eyed the crowd and spotted
more than a couple of agreeing nods. He was on the right track. “Am I
warm?”

Willem only glared for what felt like minutes before speaking.

“The reasoning no longer matters. This can only end in one way.” The

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man pulled a knife from a sheath on his belt and rested it on his knee.
“You knew it the moment you got the letter.”

Fuck. It was clear that reasoning with him was long gone, as was

the idea of a fair fight. If Willem did anything other than kill Harlan
there and then, the respect of the pack would be fractured, or even
lost. The alpha was as trapped as Harlan was.

He glanced around the room again. The watching pack were a mix

of angry eagerness, guilty looks, and impassiveness. The latter
worried Harlan the most. To have got to the point where the death of a
fellow man meant so little.

He frowned as he heard a name mentioned on the radio that he

recognized, and turned to listen.

“…has just released a statement to the press. We now go live to

his LA home.”

Willem turned toward the radio, too, and motioned for it to be

turned up. “I want to hear this.”

Harlan’s stomach lurched as he heard Mitch’s voice, strangely

from two directions.

“I have an announcement to make,” Mitch said, his voice relaxed.

“For years now, I’ve been living two lives. Ever since The Twisted
Nails became big, I’ve been a womanizing rockstar with a bad
attitude and a habit for acting every bit as someone in my profession
is expected to. It’s a lie.” There were murmurs on the radio from
assembled journalists and a similar sound from the shifters in the
room with Harlan. “Someone is currently trying to blackmail me, in
the hopes of gaining something very precious from me. I cannot allow
that. So.” There was a pause. “I’m gay. I’ve always been gay, and I
will always be g—”

“Turn it off!” Willem roared. “Now!”
The radio went dead, but the sound remained. A shifter ran off

through a door, then reappeared, his eyes wide. “There’s a car out
front with a loud speaker on the roof, playing the announcement.”

“What?” Willem stood. “Why?”

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145

Harlan cracked his neck. “For me.”
Mitch had just removed the one reason for putting up with Willem

and his trial. Harlan flexed his fingers, then willed blades into his
hands. Two men rushed toward him, but by the time they got to him
he had already used the impossibly sharp blades to free his hands. As
the men approached he dropped the knives and punched out with both
fists and knocked the men back, then ducked to free his ankles. He
didn’t get there in time.

As he dipped down, Willem crashed into the chair with a roar,

knocking it and Harlan sprawling on the floor. The collision broke
one of the restraints, but it broke his ankle at the same time. He
winced as he felt it snap, then struggled to break the other steel band.
A group of shifters came toward him, but Willem shouted for them to
get away.

“He’s mine,” the man said.
Harlan kicked the chair away and climbed to one knee. “Got to

make sure you get the kill,” he said. “Keep what little of your honor is
left.”

Willem roared again in anger and rushed in, the long blade in his

hand slashing from side to side as he tried to score a hit on Harlan.
Even with only one functioning leg, Harlan stayed ahead of the man,
ducking and dodging away from the knife and occasional fist. Every
time he shifted his weight to move, though, his ankle hurt a little
more. He couldn’t keep the pace up for long, but he didn’t want to kill
the man unless he was left with no option.

“You don’t get it,” Willem said, as he dodged back from Harlan’s

jab. “My pack is everything. If they don’t trust me, I open myself up
to attacks from members looking to take my place.”

Harlan ignored the man’s attempts at justification and focused on

getting hits. For every punch he landed he had to dodge two slashes,
and soon his ankle was screaming.

“Accept your fate,” Willem said as he came in once again. “A life

for a life.”

The Rock Star and the Wolf

147

Chapter Twenty

Mitch paced the short hallway next to his front door, his fists

clenching and unclenching. It had been hours since Harlan had left.
He should have been back already.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he said under his breath. “Where are you?”
He glanced up at the security team he’d assembled after the press

conference. He was happy to find that not a single one of them had
treated him any different after his announcement. None had muttered
anything to each other about it, either, as far as his shifter hearing had
picked up. All he had heard was a pair chuckling, saying basically
that it had been pretty damn obvious.

All that mattered not one bit, though. Harlan wasn’t here yet.

That’s what mattered.

He’d sent his agent in a borrowed car to play the announcement

near the address on the letter, so that Harlan and those inside could
hear it, hoping that it would give the pack less leverage and leave
Harlan with the upper hand, but what if it had just pissed them off?
Mitch tried not to think too hard about it and resumed his pacing.

So wrapped up was he in his own thoughts that it was his security

team that heard noises upstairs, and not Mitch. As a small team
headed up to check, Mitch followed behind. His heart leapt as he
recognized the scent, and he grinned wide as Harlan staggered out of
the spare bedroom, bloody, moving with all his weight on one leg, but
somehow in perfectly unmarked clothing.

“Miss me?”
Mitch ran to him and hugged him tight, then let go as the man

groaned. “Are you okay? What happened?”

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JC Holly

Harlan stepped back and almost stumbled, grabbing a security

guard to keep him upright. “I’ll be fine. Could use a sit down,
though.”

Mitch ducked his head under Harlan’s arm and helped him to their

bedroom, then dismissed the guards, telling them to wait downstairs.
Once they were gone he closed the bedroom door and let out a long
breath, trying not to let his emotions overcome him.

“I thought you might be dead. You were so long.”
Harlan began pulling off his clothes, throwing them to the floor

and revealing a nasty gash down one side of his ribcage. “My original
plan of challenging the alpha and strutting out like a badass didn’t
exactly go to plan.” He chuckled, then winced and clutched his side.
“Turns out when you whup someone’s boss, some of his buddies get a
little pissy about it.”

“But you made it out.”
He nodded. “They won’t bother us again.”
“How can you be so sure?”
He colored. “Uh, because I’m their new alpha.”
“What!” Mitch shook his head. “You can’t be serious.”
“That pack is based on aggression and control. After I beat their

alpha, and the few that came after, it was a clear choice for them. I
don’t like it particularly, but it will make life easier. Once I’m on my
feet again I’ll select my replacement.”

Mitch didn’t know how to react to the news, so instead he focused

on the positives. Harlan was in one piece—kind of—and the threat
was over. They were the most important parts. The rest could wait.

“So,” Harlan said. “I hear you’re gay.”
Mitch grinned. “Where did you hear that?”
“Oh, some radio station.”
“Well, it’s true. Big ole homo, that’s me.”
“Funny, that.” Harlan reached over and pulled Mitch closer. “So

am I.”

“Yeah?”

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149

“Mm hmm. Though right now I’m not in much of a condition to

prove it.”

Mitch laughed and kissed his lover on the lips. “I can wait.”

* * * *

It took three months before Harlan was able to pick and train a

new alpha for Brubeck’s pack. He’d had to weed out several
dissenters before he could act, and that took time, as they hardly held
up a hand when he asked, “So, who’s planning behind my back?”

Oddly, he was sad to leave the group in the end. Without the bad

element, the rest had turned out to be great people, if a little
misguided. Still, he could look back and feel proud that he’d set them
on the right track.

Mitch had weathered the press storm unscathed, other than a few

too many salacious articles from past lovers looking for a quick buck.
They had mostly been positive, though, which helped. The band had
stood by him throughout, giving him all the support he needed to get
through the hard times. He came out of the experience stronger, and
more confident, and Harlan found his love for the man increased by
the day.

Their training had long ended, but they still spent most weekends

together in the private gym, as they had come to love working out
together. Most of the time they kept their clothes on, too. They had
plenty of runs together, too, both in wolf form, exploring the world
without a care.

The Ancients had quietly given him time off, he decided, as he

rarely went so long without contact. Not that he or Mitch were
complaining, of course. By the time he finally got another message
from them, he was ready, and now he had the full financial backing of
a rockstar at the height of his career.

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JC Holly

As they waited in the first-class suite of the airport terminal,

waiting for their flight to the next job, Harlan pulled Mitch close and
kissed him on the cheek.

“What was that for?” Mitch asked.
“For being you.” Harlan glanced around the empty suite. “I’ve

been talking to my employers about some time off.”

“You’re not sick of me yet?”
He laughed. “Not in this lifetime. Turns out that there is a way to

get extra time off, though, and it suited what I’d already had planned.”

“Oh, and what’s that?”
Harlan fingered the gold wedding band in his front pocket.

“You’ll find out, soon enough.”

THE END

WWW.JCHOLLY.BLOGSPOT.COM

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

JC lives in the south of England and spends the free hours of each

day reading, writing, and indulging various other hobbies, in the
company of Tuna the cat. JC has been writing for several years now,
and refuses to acknowledge proper house attire, or people who say
things like, “When are you getting a real job?” and, “Can I be in your
next book?”

For all titles by JC Holly, please visit