I watch him, Felix, and Dev play together, an ugly orange shag carpet in a nook behind Felix and his drum set. I look at Foster, recognizing the background. “The music store in Houston where you had your meet and greet?”

“Finding a cheap lefty bass is a pain in the ass, so we drove from Austin after Dev tracked one down. Back then the place was owned by a Deadhead and named Grateful Fret. The guy let us jam while Dev got a feel for the bass.”

When the band stops playing, the person filming lets out a “haaaaah” to emulate a roaring crowd. “Thank you, Houston,” Colton shouts. “We’re Nameless Because Our Guitarist Is A Broody Fuck. Good night!”

In the video, Foster glares at the camera. Beside me, he shakes his head before he taps the screen to pause it.

“The bickering is endless after that, but…” He steadies the phone with his hand behind mine so the other can zoom in on the wall over Video Foster’s shoulder. The blurry image in the frame is barely distinguishable as a wolf. “I stopped being broody, and we left as Of Men and Wolves.”

My smile is so big my cheeks ache when he steps behind me and takes his phone.

“This is vital lore, Foster West. Why am I only hearing about it now?”

“You hadn’t earned it yet.” His lips are at my ear. “This is the only freebie you get from me. Anything else you pay for by stripping out of one of these slutty little outfits you wear.”

Then he’s gone, striding across backstage. I’m still smiling when he texts me the video. I watch it again, my sole focus on the guitarist. Tortured eyes and hard-set jaw. A hint of a melody emerges while he plays, barely there but enough I recognize what it will evolve into eventually. The song that put them on the map.

“Echo.”

* * *

After both of the next two shows, I become prey as soon as the final song ends.

Like tonight. Adams North closes out the show with his guitar hanging. He has a hand on the microphone stand. His voice is worn and oh-so sexy.

And his heated gaze is locked on me offstage through it all.

People scream while he, Felix, and Dev walk off, and Foster hands off his guitar to one of the roadies before descending the stairs. Same as last time, he stalks toward me, grabs me by the nape, and then his lips crush to mine. His kiss is hot and claiming and everything.

I gasp when his hands drop to the backs of my thighs and he hikes me up. My legs wrap around his waist, my arms around his neck.

Once he has me breathless, he tugs at my lower lip. “Are you mine?”