Bonedust

through to his veins, stronger than any street drug. His nostrils flared at the tinge of sweat dripping from the crowd, wolf senses heightened by adrenaline. In that moment, he was a sponge, absorbing the pulse of body heat and the zing of excitement. Their band—his beautiful brain child—was selling, and selling well. High Velocity’s second album had gone double platinum in a matter of days. Their Kiss and Tell tour was sold out.
    His heartbeat was a steady thump-thump in his chest, a blend of pride and excitement nearly burning him alive. His spirit was floating around somewhere up on cloud nine. It was amazing, being the top dog—something Zane had only ever achieved in his dreams.
    Their final song dwindled down to gentle acoustics before ending with the shrill of an electric guitar, loud enough to make his ears ring. The crowd screamed as the lights dimmed and a haze of fog spread across the stage like ghostly fingers, reaching for them. Under the mask of darkness, the members of High Velocity bounded backstage, adrenaline still riding them hard.
    “You kicked ass tonight, man.” Micah Tate’s beefy hand slapped down on Zane’s shoulder, drawing a grin and a chuckle out of the other man. Zane handed his guitar off to the only assistant he trusted to take care of the custom Fender.
    “We all did. We really blew them away. Another damn-near perfect performance, if I do say so myself.”
    “Cocky.”
    “True.” Zane’s lips quirked into a lopsided grin. He ran a hand through his hair and spun around in a tight circle. Excitement burned through him and he yearned for a run, yearned for release. He set his jaw and shook it off. Not yet. Be patient. The beast that slumbered deep within his soul, a beautiful white wolf that was his second half, twisted beneath his skin. Patience is a virtue. But one look around his band mates—his fellow pack mates—told Zane that the other werewolves were just as eager to stretch their legs as he was.
    “Whaddaya say, Zane?” Parker Wilde’s voice made him glance up. The keyboardist’s long fingers tapped impatiently on the edge of a Coke can and Zane tilted his head. Parker sighed, as if exasperated. “Expensive booze and cheap girls after the big romp tonight? Let loose and celebrate a little?”
    “Like we don’t do it enough?” Benji gave a hoot and pumped his fist, his bass still slung around his neck. He was a little paranoid in that regard. He always put his instrument away himself; he didn’t even trust Zane with it. “I’m in.”
    “In,” agreed Micah.
    The three of them turned to look at Zane, expectant, waiting. They looked up to him, followed his lead. Maybe it was the fact that his parents were the alphas of Elysium Pack, that Zane himself was their named heir to the throne whenever he was ready to step up and take it. Even if he had no desire to lead anything besides leading High Velocity to fame and fortune.
    But how could he say no to good alcohol and beautiful women? A slow grin spread across his face. “In,” he said and the guys crowed. Zane held up a hand. “And I’ll even buy, how’s that?” Another round of cheers.
    “Besides, I heard Lola was looking for you.” Parker winked in an exaggerated way.
    Oh, Lola… Innocent flair, blonde ringlet curls, and all that smooth, pale skin. No man could forget a face like Lola’s, but while she had him locked in her sights, he was interested in someone else. He’d always been interested in someone else.
    Women were Zane’s not-so-secret pleasure. He loved them. All shapes and sizes, all colors and races; black hair, brown hair—it didn’t matter. If they had curves and a nice ass, they were fair game, and the best part of being a rock star was that the women loved him just as much as he loved them. It was win-win.
    Except that none of them filled the spot that Charlie did, with those baby-blue eyes, cool and confident, and that mane of thick black curls, always stuffed up in a prim little bun, always daring him to tug at it, stroke it… He shook his head, warring with his thoughts.
    As the guys turned to go off in different directions, amped about the following evening, Zane moved to do the same. Yet…something stopped him. A whiff of the air, and over the smell of the fog maker and the sweat lingering there, he breathed her in. Wildflowers and blueberries, she was beautiful, unique, wolf…
    And oh so untouchable. She’d made that part clear as day.
    He craned his neck, his