To Have A Human

Sometimes it’s the family you choose that loves you the most.

Carey Gale always knew about shifters. It was difficult not to know when your best friends could turn into some of the deadliest beasts. When he gets a daytime job to support his band working at a shifter owned business, he doesn’t expect to fall hopelessly in lust with Broden Lyall, the company’s alpha. Sadly, Broden thinks little of humans. He considers them helpless and weak. But when hunters come after Carey’s friends, Broden learns that not all humans are alike, and he will do anything to have one slim, blond human.

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To Have A Human

Copyright © 2012
Amber Kell

ISBN: 978-1-77111-398-4

Cover art by Angela Waters

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

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To Have A Human

Banded Brothers Book 1

By

Amber Kell

Chapter One

Carey Gayle finished his guitar riff with a quick flicking of fingers, sending the crowd screaming. He loved feeding off the energy of a live audience. The acoustics in Club Feathers were better than most of the small bars they'd played in and the owner always gave them free drinks.

“Thank you everyone for coming out tonight. We’re Banded Brothers, and we look forward to seeing you again in two weeks.” He bowed to the crowd and waved a hand to indicate his band mates. He could see his friends bowing in his peripheral vision.

The thunder of applause filled the bar and a chant of
next week
went through the crowd. Carey waved again, then he kneeled down by the case to place his guitar inside.

“I think they liked your new song.” His band mate Eaton Franks crouched beside him, his bare chest soaked with sweat. Eaton’s golden brown hair gleamed under the lights with the same color as his feathers in eagle form.

Carey nodded. “Yeah, but I think me and Denton were playing different tracks.”

“That’s because you’re a show off,” Denton teased.

Carey looked up to see Denton’s eyes shift to reptilian for a second and Carey froze, wondering what his friend sensed.

“You smell something?” Ducking his head Carey flicked his gaze around the club, hoping to spot any danger before it found them.

“Mostly cat shifters,” Denton said in a low tone. “I thought I scented wolf for a bit, but it’s faint.”

Even in his human shape, Denton’s crocodile nature gave him a better sense of smell than Eaton and Carey had.

“I didn’t see any wolves.” Carey replied. He always kept an eye out for wolves since that breed of shifter tended to be unstable and start fights.

“I don’t want to alarm you guys, but there’s at least three cat shifters here and a wolf who left,” Harris Bender said. Harris crouched down beside them, cradling his bass guitar like a baby.

Bear shifters had a sense of smell seven times that of the average bloodhound. Harris had never been wrong. Between him and Denton they’d always been the first level of alert for their group.

Carey nodded. “Denton already said.” His friends were leery of other shifters since none of them were affiliated with an official shifter family. The four of them had formed an unofficial pack with Carey as the leader, despite his human status.

“If no wolves are going to attack, I need a drink!” Carey declared.

Snapping his instrument case closed, Carey left it behind for Denton to put in the van. Carey and Eaton helped set things up while Denton and Harris were in charge of tearing it down. That was their agreement.

Carey spotted Eaton flirting with a fan as he headed for the bar. Eaton was always the personable one with the audience.

Carey had a knack for being able to recognize shifters even when they were in their human form. It came from a childhood of hanging around with non-human friends. They always moved a little too smoothly, a little more gracefully than everyone else.

The crowd slowed his progress toward that desired drink. Carey pushed through, nodding and smiling to fans as they came to congratulate him on a good performance. The best part of playing to a live audience for Carey was meeting people afterward and getting feedback.

Finally free of the bulk of people, Carey slid onto the closest bar stool.

“I hear they have a great selection of imported beer,” a deep voice spoke up behind him.

Carey turned to see six-foot plus of lush shifter goodness. The man’s dark eyes scanned Carey as if he were a favorite treat and the stranger wanted a bite. Midnight hair cut short, but long enough for a good grip, sent several hot scenarios rushing through Carey’s brain.

Work was over, it was time to play.

Carey let his gaze slide all over the delicious man. Cat shifter, would be Carey’s guess. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Carey nodded toward the bartender.

“I’d rather just take you home and fuck your brains out.” The man didn’t even blink while he uttered his outrageous pronouncement.

“Hmm, a direct kind of guy, I like that. But I never go home with anyone if I haven’t tasted the goods first, not to mention I don’t even know your name,” Carey said pointedly.

Laughter looked good on the guy. Big, tall and intense, he probably didn’t laugh half as much as he should.

“Forgive me. I got sidetracked by your half-naked body. I’m Broden Lyall.”

“Carey Gale. And I object to the half-naked thing. My shirt is still on.” Unbuttoned all the way to expose Carey’s body, but still on. Eaton was the exhibitionist of the band.

“Barely.” Broden slid one long finger down Carey’s six-pack abs. “I hope you don’t think I was objecting.” His trail ended at the top of Carey’s jeans. He hooked a finger through the front belt loop and yanked Carey closer until their groins touched.

An embarrassing whimper left Carey’s throat. The man smelled like something wild and delicious. Carey could feel the man’s heat through his thin shirt.

“I’m a bit sweaty,” Carey protested weakly as he locked his knees to stop from tumbling to an inelegant heap at Broden’s feet.

“I like sweaty,” Broden growled. “It makes me want to lick you all over.”

Carey’s cock hardened. He had never been so turned on by someone so quickly before. He didn’t generally pick men up at bars, but Broden was going to be the exception.

Broden’s nose twitched before he pinned Carey with a predatory expression. “I see you like that idea, too.”

Carey tilted his head submissively as he felt Broden’s erection harden against him.

“You know what I am,” Broden whispered.

“I’m guessing cat of some kind,” Carey replied.

“And you’re not scared.” Broden searched Carey’s face as if trying to catch him in a lie.

“Nope. Kiss me,” Carey demanded.

Broden captured Carey’s lips without hesitation—tasting, licking, conquering Carey’s mouth. Heat flashed through him like a flamethrower had scorched his insides. It took all his resolve not to climb the man like a tree and hump against him in front of the entire bar. When they broke apart, panting replaced words for a minute.

“How’s that for a sample?” Broden asked. His wet lips distracted Carey who yearned for another kiss.

“Um…it’ll do,” Carey managed to say once he realized Broden was waiting for an answer. He licked his lips to belie his words. Damn the man tasted good!

“Go tell your friends you’re leaving.” Broden turned Carey and shoved him toward his band mates who were all watching him with great interest. Carey didn’t live like a monk, but he rarely went home with complete strangers
—
his father taught him better than that. This time though, he couldn’t resist the urge to follow Broden like a lost puppy looking for a new home.

Carey made eye contact with Harris who raised his eyebrows at him. A shrug and a bashful grin conveyed all that he needed to. He made the motion that he’d call later and Harris nodded.

He turned back around to find Broden watching him with amusement.

“All done?” Broden asked.

Carey nodded. “If I don’t call Harris in a few hours, he’ll get worried.”

Even without weapons. Carey had lethal skills. His father made sure that Carey could handle any situation with or without a gun to back him up. Or as his father liked to say,
A pretty boy like you needs to know how to take a big man down because everyone is going to want into your pants.

His father might not be the most diplomatic person, but he’d taught his son everything he knew and had saved Carey’s ass more than once.

Broden placed a hand on Carey’s back to guide him, but didn’t try to speak until they left the noisy club behind. “Your band is really good.”

“Thanks!” Carey smiled. “We’re getting better. We’ll never hit it big, but we enjoy playing in the clubs. There’s cheap liquor and a friendly audience.”

“Why don’t you think you’ll ever be a success?” Broden’s interested expression told Carey the big man really did want to know.

Carey shrugged. “I guess it depends on your measure of success. I think if we get to play in clubs, then we’re a success. We’ll never be a huge name because it’s a matter of commitment. We enjoy music, don’t get me wrong, but we all have other goals in life. I like computers, Harris is a painter, Eaton is getting his degree in quantum physics or something like that and Denton is into landscape design. Music is our passion, but it isn’t our life. In order to make it big, you need for it to be both.”

The street was quiet as they walked away from the club. Only a few cars passed, indicating the lateness of the night. The cool air made Carey shiver. He’d left his jacket on the stage when he stripped it off earlier.

“Here.” Broden’s body heat enveloped Carey with the warm cloth of his jacket. “I always forget how cold humans can get.”

A snide comment danced on the tip of Carey’s tongue, but weighed against the chance for a hot night with the shifter made him keep the words inside. Maybe Broden didn’t mean that like it sounded. No reason to jump to conclusions.

“It is cold out,” Carey agreed, snuggling into Broden’s jacket.

“What do you do with computers? Programming?”

“Something like that.” More like de-programming. That was a world of discussion he didn’t want to have with a total stranger. His hacking skills weren’t something he told other people about. He used it for the benefit of organizations to check out their firewalls and verify their security, but most people heard the word hacking and immediately thought he was into espionage or willing to break into bank accounts and funnel money. Neither was a discussion he intended to get into with his fuck-of-the-night no matter how nice the guy seemed. The less information shared, the fewer things that could go wrong.

“Let’s not talk about me. Let’s discuss where we’re going so you can fuck me.” Carey figured they were walking to Broden’s place since they had already passed the parking lot a while ago and weren’t heading to any of the few cars parked on the street.

“I live right over there.” Broden pointed to a tall, modern building across the street. Carey had watched them construct the luxurious condos a few years ago. They appeared to be well-built, if a bit soulless.