Levi Tabberton has dreamed of being a rock star ever since his brother's best friend, Alexander Morrison, showed him his guitar when he was young. But becoming a member of his boyhood crush's band, Lion's Pride, is even more important.
Growing up, Levi emulated Alexander, and now, years later, that feeling remains when he auditions for the band. Xan is laidback, caring, gorgeous, and takes Levi under his wing—or rather, his paw. But Levi's guilt and insecurity hold him back from letting Xan see the real him.
Levi needs to prove himself worthy of the band and deserving of Xan's attention, but the lengths to which he's gone have left him reeling with anxiety and exhaustion. Levi's not sure how much longer he can pull off his charade to reach his goals and to keep Xan's affections.
Has he made the right choice by putting on an act, or will his dreams fade in a catastrophe of lies and uncertainty?
Genres: Gay/Fantasy/Shapeshifter/The Arts/Series
Heat Level: 3
Length: Extended Novella (34k words)
Read a short excerpt...
...Levi inhaled a big breath through his nose and leaned back against the cool concrete wall. The advertisement hadn’t been anything special, but it was very specific: Lead guitarist with panthera-leo mutator tendencies wanted. Levi knew the shifter classification, but he also knew he had no intention of making the band send him home before they heard what he could do. At least he hoped not.
“Okay, Levi. You’re on. Break a leg, dude.”
Levi was unceremoniously shoved through the intimidating black door. It banged shut behind him with a resounding echo that could have woken the dead, figuratively of course. The point was, it was fucking loud. He took a few steps, then another big inhale before he turned to face the table in the middle of the room.
“Hey. Levi, right?”
He couldn’t believe he was there, couldn’t believe he was standing in front of goddamn Lion’s Pride. The three hotter-than-hell members sat in a row behind the table, the top cluttered with papers, pens and water bottles—all of them staring directly at Levi.
Don Jorgensen was first, his spiky, platinum hair painted in a multitude of funky splashes of color that Levi knew glowed in the dark when he was behind his drum kit. He was over six feet and built, with a plethora of piercings dotting his face, many matching the strange silver-hue of his eyes.
At the other end of the table, Kevin Brown leaned back in his chair. He was Australian with the sexiest accent ever, a head of wild blond hair, and he was a damn good bass player, too. Levi had memorized the list of songs he’d co-written for Lion’s Pride, as well as all the instruments he could play and the A-list celebrities he escorted around town—both female and male. Kevin wasn’t the most popular band member, but he was the one most widely known for his sexual appetite. Had Levi not already been totally gone on another, he would have had strong images of Kevin on his knees, even stronger than the ones trying to push through right now.
The middle seat was taken up by the heart and soul of the band, Alexander—Xan—Morrison. Levi snuck a peek from under the brim of his hat, letting the image of the lead singer settle in his brain. Xan’s hair was longer than his bass player’s, almost identical in its golden color with streaks of dark here and there. It fell in sexy roped braids around his face and over his shoulders.
Just being in the same room as him made everything that much more real for Levi.
Xan was a god among gods, at least in all of Levi’s fantasies. He wasn’t as tall as his buddies, but he was broader across the shoulders. His body wasn’t overly muscled, but he filled out his pale blue T-shirt in ways that jolted Levi’s dick inside his pants.
He nearly bent double when waves of anxiety and fear twisted and turned his gut inside out in a tangent of nauseating movement. He watched, waited, as Xan tilted his head, tapping a pen against his full lips, the determined yet tired look in his eyes a silent, shouting question in Levi’s head. “Don’t I know you?”
Levi forced his gaze away before adjusting his hat and setting his guitar case on the floor beside him. He shuffled his feet in hopes of soothing the electric nerves zapping him from head to toe, and even more so, to adjust the sudden tightness in his pants. He’d swear his dick had gone from zero to eighty in the time it took to walk across the room. It pulsed and pressed against the uncomfortable zipper of the denim as aching desire took up residence with all his other current maladies. Talk about the perfect day to not go commando...