Halo (Fallen Angel, #1)(4)

I strapped on my guitar and tuned up, and when I was ready, I ran my fingers through my hair, blew out a breath, and faced the four men who held my fate in the palms of their hands.

“Was there something in particular of yours you’d like me to play?” I asked.

Killian shook his head. “Anything you like.”

“Right.” I plucked quietly at the strings as I debated whether to just go for it with one of TBD’s biggest hits, and after a few seconds of deliberation, I figured, fuck it—go big or go home—and began to play the opening notes of “More than Enough.”

I closed my eyes, humming along with the intro, and then…I began to sing.





Three





Viper





FUUUCK. ME.

YEAH, that was the thought that ran through my head when Killian stepped aside and Halo had entered the studio around ten minutes ago. And it was still running through my head now, as I sat by myself on one of the couches facing the guy who was singing a song Killian and I had written two years ago, like we’d written it specifically for him.

Served me right, I supposed. If I’d bothered to look at the video attachment in the email Killian had sent to us all last night, I wouldn’t have been trying to mask the reaction I was having to the guy—and yeah, I was having one hell of a reaction.

I’d been trying to work out why any hopeful rocker would call himself Halo since Killian had mentioned his name. But when he walked through the door and I’d gotten my first look at him, that had been cleared up for me real quick.

The guy was a fucking showstopper. He had hair the color of sunshine or spun gold—a shade poets would write about or some shit—and it waved in a sexy tangle of loose curls that hit the collar of his jacket. And that face of his, Jesus. It was perfect. Almost otherworldly. And with eyes a light shade of green, like sea glass…he was almost too damn beautiful to look at.

I shifted on the couch and wished like hell Killian had asked for the entire bottle of whiskey, because suddenly I wasn’t drinking to dull the pain of someone singing our songs. I was drinking to try and take my mind off how hot this guy was. Especially when you added in his voice—and what a voice he had.

He delivered the words in a husky, deep way that you felt down your spine and in your soul, and as he strummed on his guitar, he closed those gorgeous eyes of his and lost himself in my song—I mean, our song.

Shit, this was not good. Of course the first guy who showed any potential had to be someone who made my dick hard, and when I glanced Killian’s way and saw him watching me for my reaction, I hoped to hell he was only looking at my face.

Halo came to the end of the song, and color me shocked, he was the first guy who’d managed to get through the entire thing without screwing it up.

When the room plunged into silence, Halo opened his eyes and blinked, and when they widened slightly, I almost laughed. Had the guy forgotten where he was? Well, if that were the case, he sure as shit was remembering now.

“Wow.” Killian was the first on his feet, as he slow-clapped and looked our way. “I told you he was good, didn’t I?”

“Good?” Jagger said, and then chuckled. “That was awesome, man.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Slade nodding in agreement, but not offering much more than that, and finally Killian looked to me.

“Well?”

My eyes shifted from Killian to Halo, who was looking at me, waiting for my reaction. And while I wasn’t one to blow smoke up anyone’s ass, I was also man enough to admit when I was impressed. “Not bad.”

Killian’s lips twitched. He knew me well enough to know that that was high fucking praise from me—but the one next to him looked less convinced.

“I can play another if you like?” Halo offered, but Killian shook his head.

“Just give me a second, would you?”

“Okay,” Halo said as Killian crossed to stop in front of me, and as he drew near, I couldn’t help my eyes from drifting back to Halo, who had stepped back a bit to give us some privacy and was now showing great interest in the sound booth behind him.

With his back to Halo, Killian looked over at Jagger and Slade, who both gave a nod of approval, and then his eyes were back on me.

“You want to ask him some questions?” That was Killian’s way of asking if I liked Halo enough to give a shit if he was available to come back and really try out with us. As in, run through a full set and see if he meshed. But the only kind of meshing I had in mind didn’t require instruments, my bandmates, and, well…clothes. Somehow I didn’t think that was what Killian meant.

Again, there were so many reasons this was a bad idea.

My eyes must’ve relayed at least that much of my thoughts, because the second I opened my mouth to suggest Halo wasn’t the right fit, Killian lowered his voice and said, “He’s fucking amazing, V. What’s your issue?”

Deciding it best not to voice what my particular issue was, I glanced down at my lap, and Killian’s eyes followed. When he saw just how amazing I thought this guy had been, Killian’s lips quirked up at the side.

“I’d say that’s a positive response. Wouldn’t you?”

I ground my teeth together and shook my head. “I don’t think so.”