Connor shot out of his chair as XVI Hours’ drummer launched himself at their lead singer, knocking him onto the floor. The man must have waited for Annette to be out of sight, but the tension hadn’t abated since her parting words.

He felt like a complete jerk. He wanted to go after her. Apologize.

Could he leave the slender guitarist to separate these guys? He watched Kace’s glossed lips part before his black-lined eyes narrowed with determination. Kace grabbed North’s arm, but the singer shoved him away without a glance back.

Before Kace could get himself hurt trying again, Connor grabbed the wiry drummer around the waist and lifted him. A thick-soled boot caught him in the shin. He almost dropped Quinton, but seeing Kace finally had a firm grip on North, decided to hold on a little longer.

Quinton dropped his weight, twisted to face Connor, and slammed his head forward. He missed Connor’s nose, busting his lips open instead. When Connor released him, Quinton drew his fist back.

A big body cut between them. Balthazar latched onto Quinton’s wrist. “No.” He angled it in a way that had Quinton walking backward, then dropping into the cushioned seat. “Don’t fucking move.”

Steps away, North and Kace had gone still. Balthazar ignored them, turning to Connor, eyes flashing with rage. Connor expected to get shit for the fight, but Balthazar gently framed his jaw with his hand, eyeing Connor’s bloody bottom lip.

“Come on, let’s get that taken care of.”

Connor’s palms dampened. All he could do was nod. Damn, why had the man started being so nice to him? Nice Balthazar was dangerous. He screwed with Connor’s already messed up head. And his pulse. The two might actually be connected. Not enough blood getting to his brain.

They found the men’s bathroom a few minutes later, where Balthazar had Connor sit on a stool while he washed his hands, then dampened some napkins to clean up the blood. Once that was done, he grabbed a dry one and held it to Connor’s bottom lip.

Inhaling slowly, Connor brought his hand up to compress the cut himself. He couldn’t think straight with Balthazar so close.

But he regretted it the second Balthazar took the hint and put some distance between them.

“You shouldn’t need stitches, but I’ll glue it if it doesn’t stop bleeding soon.” Balthazar went back to the sink to wash his hands again. “Let me know when you want to leave.”

“You’re not making me leave now?”

Balthazar arched a brow. “Why would I?”

Connor’s brow furrowed. “I’m not supposed to fight.”

“And you weren’t. I saw what happened, Connor. I wouldn’t have handled it any differently.” Balthazar dried his hands, then returned, taking a knee in front of him and carefully moving the compress. “Looks fine. If it starts again, just hold something over it.”

“I will.” Connor leaned forward, brushing his lips over the other man’s, ignoring the throbbing pain in his bottom lip. The heat of Balthazar’s mouth erased all else. But he wasn’t surprised when Balthazar jerked away, rising and glaring down at him. Connor shrugged and gave him his most innocent smile. “Thank you?”

Tipping his head back, Balthazar inhaled slowly. Then shook his head. “You are aware how inappropriate that was?”

“Felt like the right thing to do at the time.” Connor slumped back in the chair, the rush from the too brief kiss already fading. “You pissed?”

“No. But I think you’re confused.” Balthazar folded his arms over his wide chest, his expression serious, which just made him sexier. Some higher power was fucking cruel. “The people you play with are in that club. I’m not part of that world.”

“Are you saying you’re not interested?”

“I won’t repeat myself. I’ve already made that clear.” Balthazar’s tone sharpened. “Are you ready to leave?”

Clear as mud, you mean. Connor couldn’t explain why he’d kissed the man. Not even to himself. But he didn’t regret it. If Balthazar was repulsed by him, he would have reacted faster. If he was completely straight, he’d be freaking out.

Wouldn’t he?

Not that Connor really understood straight people. The idea of looking at an attractive man or woman and feeling nothing didn’t fit in his head. And he’d never been this drawn to anyone who didn’t want him back.

But with Balthazar it was…different. He wanted the man to like him now. Needed the rare teasing smile, the approval, the moments when they talked as though they were friends. A little taste hadn’t been enough.

Maybe Balthazar was right though. Maybe Connor was confusing friendship with something else. And he’d ruin any chance of that if he didn’t respect the man’s boundaries.

“I think I should stay. Being alone with you in the van would be…” Too honest. Friends don’t imply they’d come on to one another the first chance they got alone. “I came to have fun. Maybe hook up.”

Balthazar scowled. Then inclined his head. “Yes, you did.”

“On it.”

“Good.” Balthazar held the door open for him. “Enjoy yourself.”

Well fuck, Balthazar hadn’t been pissed about the kiss, but he definitely wasn’t happy now. Connor hesitated, then went with his instincts.

“And, Balthazar…”

“What?” Balthazar practically growled.

“I’m not sorry I kissed you.” Connor slid past the other man, brushing against his chest, giving the finger to the friend zone. “I’d do it again.”

* * *

Resisting the urge to slam the door, Balthazar trailed after Connor, relieved when he caught sight of Brave, then Skull. His brother had taken a guard post in the shadows with Tank, one of the other members of the road crew who regularly doubled as security. They didn’t have a full staff, which meant Brave’s brother, Alder, hadn’t come.

Good. The young man wouldn’t feel comfortable here. Not while one of the loves of his life was across the ocean. His other love, Jesse, did well at keeping him on the level, but neither man was operating at a hundred percent. Almost as though, with Danica gone, the sun was in permanent eclipse. They did what they had to, but something was always missing.

Balthazar couldn’t give either much advice to make things easier. They were doing everything he’d advise a soldier newly separated from his wife. Take every opportunity to write home and Skype. Look forward to the time they’d be together. Know that they were proud of the work that kept the loved one away from home.

There was more, obviously, but nothing more than a Band-Aid on a gaping wound. And he could only sympathize so much. He’d never been in love.

The idea had never appealed to him. Even getting close enough to someone to be that vulnerable seemed unwise. He’d had lovers he’d cared about, but none he looked back on with longing or regret. What he’d considered important, like his job and loyalty, hadn’t mattered to them. Either part of the BDSM lifestyle or he had horrible taste in companions.

He had a feeling Connor had seen right through him with that kiss. He’d never claimed a label, because none seemed important, but he’d always been sexually fluid. More focused on the person than their gender. He didn’t enjoy sex without a connection.

Thankfully, he’d never found that connection with someone he was working with. And he refused to let himself entertain the idea now. His delayed reaction had been sheer disbelief that Connor would kiss him without permission. If the man was his submissive, he’d—

Not the line of thought you want to go down, Bornstein.

No, it wasn’t. And how easily the reckless, undisciplined, audacious young man slipped into that role in his mind was disturbing. Balthazar did not play with those he worked with. His whole life revolved around his job, always had, which meant his liaisons were brief.

He hadn’t indulged in over a year.

Perhaps he should, before Connor tempted him again. And Balthazar was too self-aware to deny he was tempted. Already he’d gone from tolerating the guitarist to being overprotective. He had to remind himself they weren’t friends. He was an employee of the band. Paid to keep Connor safe.

As soon as they reached Brave, who stood close enough to touch the Winter’s Wrath’s bassist, Malakai, while not exhibiting the usual affection they showed on the bus, Balthazar left Connor and slipped off to the side with his brother. A few feet away Tank caught his eye, then inclined his head before returning to watching Tate.

The drummer was at a table with Dariel and Shiori, eating M&Ms and speaking animatedly about something that had even the broody violinist cracking a smile. Rather than look at Connor, who appeared to be hearing the riot act from Brave, Balthazar focused on Dariel. The newest member of the band, a young black man with sharp eyes and a wry smile had become a steadying presence. He was a shameless flirt, with both the women and the men. Also, the only member of the band completely open about his sexuality.

A soldier to the core, but still a free-spirit. Balthazar wanted to know his secret. Strict schedules and discipline always settled Balthazar, but Dariel was happy to go with whatever worked in the moment. He was never late, but he didn’t stress if others were. He kept his things neat, then stepped over piles of clothes like he didn’t see them.

That particular feat took place when he shared a hotel room with Connor or Tate. Not on the bus. Brave didn’t have half the violinist’s patience for clutter. He’d give Tate gentle reminders, but when Connor left a mess, he reamed the guitarist out.

Much like he was doing now.

And Balthazar was back to observing the young man who’d successfully burrowed under his skin. He thought back on how Connor had teased him. That moment when Balthazar had forgotten to be professional and detached. Connor had managed to bring out a side of him he didn’t even know anymore.

Timing and circumstances were all wrong. But he didn’t mind as much as he should.

A sharp pain in his ribs snapped his gaze from Connor to Skull, who smirked and jutted his chin toward the guitarist.

“Not so bad after all, is he?”

Balthazar grunted noncommittedly, knowing full well his brother would pick apart anything he said.

Skull chuckled. “You’re too young to be this serious. Why don’t you let Tank and I take over for the night? I’d hoped Connor would tempt you to have a drink. Relax a bit.”

He did tempt me. Balthazar schooled his features and shrugged. “I suppose I could go chill at the bar. You good watching Tate and Connor, Tank?”

“Hell no.” Tank frowned at Skull. “The kid’s wired on Redbull and sugar—thanks for that, by the way—in a strange country, determined to get laid. You want me to watch them both, I demand a pair of leashes and a raise.”

Huffing out a laugh, Skull hooked his thumbs in the front pockets of his black jeans, leaning back against the wall in a stance that belied his almost fifty years. “Tonight might not be the best time. But I do want you both to take a break at some point.”

“Sure thing.” Tank exchanged an amused look with Balthazar, which he returned. “Right after you do.”

“Deal.” Skull smirked. “I took advantage of my seniority and scheduled my time off for tomorrow night. I suggest you clear your time with Jesse before the grunts catch on and snag all the best shifts.” He tipped his head to Tank. “Nice try, though.”

Tank stared at Skull, then turned to Balthazar as though to say ‘He’s joking, right?’. Balthazar wasn’t sure how to respond. They never took breaks while on tour.

Then again, they’d never toured Europe.

Skull had been to every single state in the USA, as well as most of the Canadian provinces. He’d been down to Mexico more times than he could count. He’d seen much of the world, but he hadn’t been here, and with his love for traveling and new experiences, there was no way he’d let this opportunity pass without enjoying every moment.

Balthazar knew his brother well enough that he should have expected Skull to make changes in their typical routines, but he didn’t feel the same. One packed pub was no different than any other and he’d rather eat sand again than brave the tourist traps.

His day off would be catching a few extra hours sleep in a real bed. Maybe finding a quiet spot to read. He wouldn’t mind trying out some of the local foods, but for that, he’d find the most remote location, away from the crowded attractions.

“I’ll take the day after tomorrow—while we’re still in Berlin. The next two shows are at smaller venues, you should be fine without me.” Balthazar’s mouth watered as he thought about the suggestions for things to eat in Germany in the guides he’d browsed. He folded his arms over his chest as Skull and Tank watched him, expectantly. “I’ve been craving rindsrouladen.”

Skull had the decency not to laugh at the way he butchered the name of the beef dish that had caught his attention on one website. He’d always struggled with pronouncing new words until he’d heard them used repeatedly. When their father had renewed his faith and began practicing Orthodox Judaism, Balthazar could never pronounce the Hebrew prayers just right. Skull picked up languages easily and taught him several over the years, but Balthazar was still inept with those he didn’t converse in regularly.

Which was probably why Skull wasn’t trying to correct him now.

Tank cocked his head. “Is that the beef with bacon?”

Balthazar nodded.

The massive security guard looked from him to Skull. “I thought you didn’t eat pork.”

“I don’t. Balthazar eats whatever he pleases.” Skull’s tone sharpened slightly. “And I know how little interest you have in religion, Tank. So if you would, let’s avoid the topic.”

Sensing the irritation in his brother, Balthazar shifted closer to him, eyeing Tank. The man was good at his job, but when discussing religion or politics, he could be downright ignorant. Every stereotype was a joke to him, no matter how harmful. Balthazar wanted to toss him to the curb—literally—but with the band’s schedule, they didn’t have time to interview replacements. Yet.

He’d overheard Skull talking to Jesse about doing so in the near future.

Holding his hands up, Tank muttered something under his breath and shuffled to the far corner of the room. He could see Tate from there, and wouldn’t irritate Skull, but Balthazar still felt uneasy.

“I’m not sure why he was assigned to Tate. The boy needs someone more conscientious.” The edge of Balthazar’s lips crept up as he watched Tate shamelessly flirting with Dariel. “Tank is competent when they’re on stage, or signing autographs, but—”

“But not so much with keeping them from making poor choices. I know.” Skull had relaxed now that Tank was gone, and was back to keeping one eye on Brave, while somehow making Balthazar feel like he was under a microscope. “Jesse was stuck when Alder decided to stay back at the bus. I’d be more comfortable with him here, but I’m sure we’ll manage.”

“Yeah…” Balthazar shook his head as Tate hopped to his feet, grabbing both Dariel and Shiori’s wrist before tugging them toward the stairs. Tank trailed after them, but he would have a hard time keeping all three safe in the crowd. And the second Shiori was out of sight, both Brave and Malakai cut their conversations short and headed downstairs as well. Balthazar groaned. “The leashes weren’t a horrible idea.”

Snorting, Skull patted his shoulder. “Worry about your own boy. I do believe restraints are against the terms of our contract, but may be negotiable.”

“Not funny.” Heat rose up the back of Balthazar’s neck as his brother gave him that all-knowing look that had irritated him as a child. He was a grown man, youth far behind him, but a few words and Skull reminded him who’d patched up his scrapes and cuts as a boy. Who’d tended to more serious wounds as a young man when Balthazar had stumbled blindly into the BDSM scene and refused to safeword under the dubious training of a sadistic Domme.

There weren’t many secrets between them. Now that they were on the road together, everything that they hadn’t shared over time and distance had been exchanged over long miles, until they were as close as they’d been before Balthazar had enlisted.

But Skull hadn’t changed in how he viewed his responsibilities as an older brother. He was still teaching Balthazar lessons. Pushing him out of his comfort zone for his own good.

Connor was his latest attempt to get Balthazar to connect with another human being. To help him live a little. His big brother was trying to get him to make friends, like he was still that awkward twelve-year-old more interested in collecting D&D trading cards than exchanging a word with his peers. Sometimes, Balthazar wondered if Skull still saw that pitiful little boy when he looked at him.

Maybe not, if he was teasing about bondage, but there was no way Skull truly understood what Connor represented.

The young man was a threat to everything stable. Everything safe. He was the type of risk Balthazar would have taken when he was younger, but never again. Balthazar might not be good at languages, or connecting with people on a personal level, but there were some lessons he did learn.

And he never made the same mistake twice.