Halo (Fallen Angel, #1)(11)

I’d once been asked in an interview what three things I found sexiest in a person, and at the time it had been easy enough to rattle them off, since I’d been sitting next to Trent.

Confidence.

Talent.

Sexual self-awareness.

And as Halo moved back to the center of the room and slid the end of his mic back into the stand slowly, like a caress, I found my answer hadn’t changed one fucking bit. Because the confidence Halo was now throwing off as he shut his eyes and began to sing the next verse made me think for the first time that there might be something better out there than Trent Knox, and he might be standing here in Killian’s rehearsal studio.

As the song wound down, the energy in the room practically vibrated as Halo’s voice faded into the silence, and when it was over, Jagger was the first to speak up.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

Halo opened his eyes and glanced in my direction, even though Jagger had been the one to practically bust a nut over his performance.

“That was incredible. Fucking incredible. Right, guys?”

Halo swallowed and then turned to the lip of the stage, where the drum kit was set up, to bend down and pick up his bottle of water. I knew I was supposed to be concentrating on the music and his voice, and how damn good he’d just sung our songs. But with the way the denim was now stretched across his ass, my attention had shifted gears.

“Seriously. Kickass job, man,” Slade said as he twirled the stick in his left hand up and down four of his fingers. “You nailed it. Even got all up in Viper’s space and held your own.”

I was about a second away from offering to let Halo hold something else of mine if he wanted to, but luckily for him, Killian got in first.

“I have to admit, I knew you were good, but this right here was on a whole other level of good.” Killian looked in my direction. “V?”

I took in the excitement etched into the faces of my friends and bandmates, something none of us had felt for months, and I had to give credit to Halo for not only singing the shit out of our songs, but also reminding us why the hell we were here in the first place.

“Yeah, you did all right,” I said.

A flush crept up Halo’s neck, and it wasn’t lost on me or my dick that my words were the ones that had caused that reaction. Not Slade’s. Not Jagger’s. Not Killian’s. Halo had been wanting my approval today, and I wondered if he realized what that kind of ego stroking did to a man like me. I was thinking not, otherwise there’d be no way on God’s green earth that he would still be holding my stare.

“Right,” Killian said, effectively pulling my gaze, which was his intention, judging by the quit it look in his eyes. I shrugged it off. “How ’bout we go through the rest of the set and see how they feel?”

Halo set the water back down by his feet and ran a hand through his hair. “Sounds good to me. Is there anything you’d like me to change? Do differently?”

“Not a thing.”

“Okay.” Halo glanced down to the papers in front of him on the stand, then he looked over his shoulder to Slade and said, “Ready when you are,” like he’d been doing this his entire fucking life. And as Slade held his sticks above his head and banged them together, I found I couldn’t take my eyes off the man behind the mic.

Confidence. Halo had it in spades. And hell if that didn’t make him even more tempting.





Nine





Halo





SIX HOURS AND a successful first rehearsal later, and I was riding a high like I’d never felt. It’d been so natural fronting the band, like I’d been born to do it, and there was no way I was going to be able to get rid of the wide grin on my face anytime soon.

“Great job today, Halo,” Jagger said, as we packed up to leave. He slipped on a fine overcoat as I zipped up my backpack and shrugged it up my shoulder.

“Thanks, man. That was…” I shook my head. I didn’t have the words, but luckily he knew exactly how I was feeling and clapped me on the back.

“You did great. Glad to have you with us.”

“I’m happy to be here.” God, that was an understatement. Fucking ecstatic was more like it.

I headed out of the rehearsal room with my guitar case and said my goodbyes to Killian and Viper, who were in deep conversation with each other. We had another rehearsal scheduled for the same time tomorrow, and after the way things had gone today, I was starting to visualize many more in my future.

Stepping onto the elevator, I hit the button for the ground floor, and as the doors began to close, I heard someone call out, “Hold the door.”

I shot my hand out, forcing the elevator doors apart, and then Viper stepped inside. His presence in any room was tremendous, an air of dominance radiating off the guy, and it was especially potent in such a small area. I could barely believe I’d gone head-to-head with him in rehearsal. When I performed, it was like I could push the envelope, like the music took over and made me do things outside my comfort zone.

Viper pulled out a pack of cigarettes from the inside pocket of his burgundy leather motorcycle jacket and tucked one over his ear. “Want one?”

“No, thanks. I don’t smoke.”

He smirked and slipped the pack back inside his jacket. “Course not.”