FicWad

Chapter Three

The blissful moment, was, unfortunately, short-lived. Joe's eyes snapped open as a girl shrieked, "OH MY GOD! It's Joe Elliott and Rick Savage from Def Leppard!"

The lupine's eyes flew to Sav's and saw his own horror reflected there. "Run?" he suggested.

"Run," Sav agreed.

Together they moved as fast as they could through the crowd, searching for the rest of the band. The mob parted like the Red Sea, although both bassist and singer accidentally knocked into a few people. Sav spun around, eyes scanning, before he groaned in frustration. "Honestly, how hard is it to find a one-armed drummer in here?"

"At the rate we're going, I'd say very," Joe replied, dodging around a couple completely oblivious to the famous musicians.

"Can't you sniff 'em out or something?" Sav asked, ducking to avoid being kicked in the head by a scantily-clad pole-dancer. (Okay, the politically correct term was probably "stripper", but Joe could care less.)

"Maybe, but with all these scents . . ." Joe shook his head. "I don't know."

"You don't know what?" came Rick's familiar voice from behind Joe, who whirled around to see that his drummer looked okay—a little flushed, maybe, but otherwise perfectly fine.

"Uh, forget it. Have you seen Phil or Steve anywhere?"

Rick thought about it for a moment, then shook his head. "No. Why?"

"We've been compromised."

"In English, Joe."

"Someone recognized me and Sav, and now a bunch of teenage girls are probably looking for us."

The look on Rick's face was one that said, quite clearly, Oh crap."Okay, let's leave."

"Not without the Terror Twins," Joe reminded him. Now, where are they? Last I saw, they were with me and Sav. I can probably track their scent . . . Discreetly, he breathed in deeply, turning his head, trying to locate the Terror Twins' scent. Since he practically lived with the band while they were on tour, he knew each member's particular smell by heart. Once he caught it, he moved quickly through the crowd, Sav and Rick breaking into a jog to keep up. Phil and Steve hadn't really moved from where they'd entered with Joe and Sav after encountering them in the alley.

"Hey, Rick, Joe, Sav," Phil greeted them. "What's up?"

Joe had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. "We have to leave. Now." He was feeling edgy again, although whether that was because of his wolf or the fear of being swarmed by teenage girls, he had no idea.

Phil's eyes went dark with suspicion. "What did you do, Joe?"

The singer bristled. "Nothing! Of course, unless you want to be run over by rabid fangirls—"

"Good point." The suspicion in Phil's eyes vanished. "Back door?"

"Back door," Joe confirmed. "Move it."

An excited, high-pitched shriek followed by "Is that seriously Def Leppard?!" forced the band to double their efforts. It wasn't long before all five members spilled out into the alley where Joe had transformed not ten minutes before, sprawling in a heap on the ground with Phil on top of Steve and Joe tangled with Sav. Somehow, only Rick managed to regain his balance, stopping him from going the same way as his mates.

"Hey, Joe, I think you can get off me," Sav said, his voice muffled.

"I second that," came Steve's voice from underneath Phil.

Both Joe and Phil rolled off Sav and Steve, respectively, and helped them up. The lupine said, "We might as well head back to the hotel. We have another concert tomorrow, remember."

Rick, Phil, and Steve took the lead, while Joe dropped back to walk with Sav.

"So, Joe," Sav began hesitantly, "about earlier . . ."

"What?" Joe stopped walking and looked at his bass player, his beta in their strange pack of four humans and one lupine.

"What exactly did you do to me?"

"I didn't turn you if that's what you're thinking. One of us has to be in 'wolf form for the bite to turn a human, and even then there are silverbloods."

"Huh?"

"Someone who won't turn."

"But you said if the bite didn't turn me, it would kill me."

"Silverbloods are the exception." Joe shivered as a chill raced up and down his spine. He was feeling feverish again, the darkness in him itching to be released so it could feed. "Do you want your original question answered or not?"

Sav opened his mouth to reply, but shut it when a voice nearby hissed out of the darkness: "Hey, over here."

The two Leppards looked down the shadowed service road. Sav cocked an eyebrow at Joe, who shrugged and headed down the dark path with his beta on his five.

Joe froze when a hand clapped over his mouth and a low voice ordered, "Give us everything you have on you without any noise or your friend over here gets it."

Pale-green eyes flitted over to Sav and narrowed in fury: The bassist was stock-still, a knife held against his throat, the man behind him way too close.

"Muggers! Are you effing kidding me?" Joe's voice was an irritated, disbelieving snarl.

The guy holding Joe frowned in confusion. "Huh?" Clearly, that was not the reaction they were expecting.

"We don't have any money," Sav said, swallowing nervously. "'Sides, you don't want to piss Joe off." Maybe it was result of Joe's bite, but he could feel the singer's rising anger. He stiffened and fell silent when the blade pressed harder against the soft skin of his throat.

"And why is that?" the guy with the knife asked, his voice dangerously silky.

Rage was tinting Joe's vision red. Both he and his 'wolf were in agreement on one thing: No one hurt Sav—or the other Leppards, but mostly Sav—and got away with it. He bit down hard on the hand covering his mouth, pleased when the man released a yelp and dropped his hand, swearing black and blue, even using some words Joe was pretty sure he made up on the spot. The hand balled into a fist, socked him in the stomach, and Joe went with the pain, dropping onto all fours. Saliva mixed with the tang of blood in the back of his throat. The thugs no longer scared him.

They made him hungry.

Dark laughter echoed around him as he watched his nails turn into claws, saw the wiry hairs push their way out of his skin.

"Whoa. Who is this freak?" Sav's captor asked.

Sav shrugged. "Oh, just the singer in a little band called Def Leppard. And it looks like you've made him very angry. Then again, you Americans have a habit of doing that."

The changing was quicker and easier than last time. Joe shucked off the last vestiges of his human form and released a bone-chilling howl. His glowing blue eyes locked on the man holding the blade to Sav's throat and he bared his fangs, a low growl rumbling from deep in his chest.

The men screamed, but not for long.

*

Sav could only watch in a kind of horrified fascination as the blond werewolf turned on their attackers. Claws slashed deep, bloody gashes in chests; jaws that could crack a moose's skull easily bruised a human throat. The muggers were still breathing: Joe's 'wolf wasn't a killer, because Joe Elliott wasn't a killer. He might have a temper, but as far as Sav knew, Joe had never killed anyone while acting out.

The werewolf raised his head from one of the muggers' bodies and padded over to Sav. A soft whine rose in his throat, and he pushed his silken head under Sav's hand. It wasn't long before Sav was scratching behind Joe's ears and the 'wolf's eyes were slitted in pleasure. Of course, if Joe was in human form right now, Sav highly doubted he would be doing this.

That feels good, Sav. Just a little harder, more to the left . . ./[ Joe's thought-speak voice was embedded with a satisfied purr. The wolf's head tilted to the left, following Sav's hand, and he finally shook himself briskly. [/I needed that.

"The fight or the scratch?"

Both. Joe stiffened and swiveled his ears toward the opening of the service road. Someone's coming. Stiff-legged, hackles raised, the werewolf stepped protectively in front of Sav, ignoring the withering glare from the bassist scorching into his fur.

"Sav? Joe? Are you guys all right?"

The lupine relaxed his fighting stance as the rest of the band came around the corner. It was Steve who had called out, his words already slurred. (Joe wondered briefly how much the man had had to drink.)

"We heard a scream. Are you guys okay?" That was Phil, who stepped up next to Steve. The rhythm guitarist paused when he saw the huge 'wolf crouched in front of Sav, then the still forms of the attempted muggers. "Well, that explains why they suddenly stopped." He shot an accusatory look at Joe. "You didn't kill them, did you?"

The lycanthrope gave an indignant snort. Phil didn't need a translator to guess what it meant: Oh, please. I have more restraint than what you give me credit for.

"No, he didn't," Sav said. "They're still breathing. Besides, Joe's 'wolf is not a killer because Joe isn't a cold-blooded killer."

You've got that right, Joe said, sending the thought only to Sav. Now that the threat of danger had passed, his human self would begin to regain dominance over the 'wolf. Already he could feel lupine strength bleeding away from marrow and muscle. It was only a matter of seconds before he was human again—and naked.

Sav quickly stripped one of the unconscious men of jeans and shirt and handed the clothes to Joe, who kept his back to the others while he dressed.

"Anyone else ready to hit the sack?" he asked when he was finished, turning back to the rest of the band. "I'm beat."

Yes, he was tired, but it wasn't because of the shifting. Having to control his 'wolf, then his inner turmoil over his feelings for Sav, not to mention the fact it was half past midnight, was draining him. And since they were touring with Bon Jovi and had another concert tomorrow, it was best they all received at least a few hours of sleep.

*

Joe tossed and turned restlessly in the hotel bed. Try as hard as he might, he just couldn't sleep. He felt sweaty, clammy, as if he was running a fever—but the full moon always had that affect on him.

"Joe?" Sav's voice whispered through the darkness. Shadows shifted, then condensed to form the bassist's familiar profile. A twitch ran through the lupine, causing his legs to jerk restlessly when he realized just how close Sav was to the edge of his bed.

"What are you—"

"Relax. You can't sleep, right?" Sav didn't wait for an answer. "So I might as well keep you company until you do."

Oh. Okay, Joe thought groggily. The moon, bright and fat, was clouding his thinking, making it hard to focus on anything.

It was also making him drowsy.

He wasn't sure how long Sav sat on the edge of his bed, but as sleep finally claimed him, he thought he felt long, calloused fingers lightly brush across his forehead and the mass of blond curls.

Then Sav was gone and he knew nothing more.