“I’m guessing that’s a sore topic for you?” she said.
Viper crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “Just an in the past fuckin’ topic.”
“Well, I need to give the readers a bit of background, though I know many are familiar with your story.” Imelda looked at Killian, the only one who didn’t seem bothered by the line of questioning, and directed her focus his way. “Killian, had the plan to bring Halo in always been to replace Trent in TBD, or was the goal to form a new band?”
“To be honest, we needed a singer to finish out the album we’d spent months working on, and we needed to get back on tour,” Killian replied. “It’s not uncommon to hire a new singer, so yeah, Halo was brought in based on his ability to fit in with us as a band.”
“An already formed and supremely popular band,” Imelda added. “But within weeks, you guys did an about-face, dropping TBD altogether and starting over as Fallen Angel. What was the catalyst for the change?”
“Rude fuckin’ assholes,” Viper said.
Jagger laughed but shook his head. “Dude.”
“What? Imelda wants honesty, right?” Viper looked at her for confirmation, and when she nodded, he shrugged. “Might as well tell it like it is.”
“Maybe not that much honesty, V, yeah?” Killian said, and then he turned back to Imelda. “Once we began rehearsals, we quickly realized how talented Halo is. He plays every instrument, he writes his own music, he’s a phenomenal singer, an all-around showman. It didn’t seem right to have him try to fill someone else’s shoes when he should be standing out on his own.”
Damn. Nice workaround, Kill.
“So it had nothing to do with you guys getting booed offstage at the Savannah charity concert?”
Viper cursed, but Killian winked at Imelda. “Maybe that too,” he said.
Imelda smiled at him and jotted something down, and then she was looking my way. I braced myself as she said, “Halo. You just got quite the endorsement from your fellow bandmate. At only twenty-three, how does it feel to be playing alongside legends in the rock world?”
“Surreal,” I said, running a hand over my hair. “I grew up listening to these guys—”
Groans sounded from around the table, a balled-up napkin was thrown my way, and Slade mumbled, “We’re not that damn old.”
“Obviously that’s their sore spot,” I said, grinning at Imelda. “But to answer your question, it feels like…” Shit. Everything I wanted to say sounded so corny in my head, but…fuck it. It was true. “It feels like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”
“Aww,” Jagger said, leaning over to throw his arm around my neck. “I mean, you hear that and then you look at this face. How will anyone resist him?”
I laughed and shoved him away. “Fuck off.”
“I think many of our readers will agree with Jagger,” Imelda said, rolling the end of her pen over her chin. “It’s unbelievable what’s happened since the release of your first song, ‘Invitation.’ How did your rehearsal video find its way onto the Warden’s Instagram feed?”
“Your guess is as good as ours,” Killian said. It didn’t escape my notice that he didn’t elaborate on that and throw our manager’s name into the mix…probably because Brian was a dick who didn’t deserve the shout-out.
“Well, however it happened, it’s been a massive introduction to your new sound. Can you talk a little bit about the change in direction and what we can expect from the new album?”
Content to sit this one out, I grabbed the energy drink I’d snagged from the catering table and popped the tab as Killian launched into a long-winded answer. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Viper’s arm inch closer to mine and inwardly smirked. Couldn’t keep himself away, could he? All of his protesting about not dating and not being a relationship guy, and his actions told me the complete opposite. Here we were in an interview, and I knew he had to be sitting there forcing himself not to touch me.
And that was fucking hot.
Twenty-Two
Viper
IMELDA WAINWRIGHT WAS a seasoned music journalist who’d been around the scene about the same amount of time as we had. She’d been interviewing us for years, and when Brian had told Killian she was the one the magazine would be sending our way today, I’d known we were going to walk away from this spread golden.
Always the professional, Imelda was known for bringing the readers of the magazine exactly what they were after through edgy and interesting articles, coupled with provocative photos that would burn up the pages.
I knew that was what was worrying the angel this morning. I’d known even before we all filed out here to start with the sit-down portion of the day, and it was going to be a task to be anywhere around Halo and not look at him or touch him in a way that would scream the two of us are fucking. But I’d managed to keep my hands to myself as we sat out here by the pool…so far.
“Fallen Angel now seems to be a name that’s rolling off everyone’s tongue when you ask them what they’re listening to. It’s like we’ve been listening to you guys for years instead of a couple of months. Can you tell me how the name came about? What made you guys settle on Fallen Angel?”
Logically, I’d known this question would come up. Just as I’d known I would never forget the first time those words had left my tongue—the same tongue that had still tasted of Halo after I’d swallowed him down my throat in his apartment—but when Killian inclined his head in my direction, and Imelda turned her attention to me, I had a difficult time not jamming the heel of my palm against my twitching dick.
“Oh, was this your idea, Viper?” she asked, tapping the end of her pen against her lips, and out of the corner of my eye, I caught Halo shift in his seat beside me.
Don’t look at him. Don’t fuckin’ look at him or your semi is gonna turn into a full-blown hard-on. Keep your eyes on Imelda.
“Yeah, I guess you could say that. I mean, it was kind of a no-brainer. Our new frontman’s name is Halo and, well, look at him.”
When Imelda did just that, I allowed my eyes to shift to the gorgeous fucker beside me. Halo was chuckling and shaking his head, and when he ran his fingers back through his hair, Imelda nodded.
“As you know, I’m not exactly known for writing sweet lyrics,” I continued, and when Halo turned his head in my direction, his lips curled in a wicked smirk. “And that hasn’t changed. While the band is going in a completely different music direction, and there are some songs that are more mellow, the lyrics will still be sexy. And trust me, once you see him on a stage singing them, you’re gonna see his halo fall right off his head.”
That delicious flush that heated Halo’s neck and cheeks whenever he was excited or embarrassed appeared at exactly the same time Jagger smacked a hand to his thigh and gave a hearty laugh.
“Mhmm,” Jagger said, flashing his charming smile at Imelda. “He’s gonna set the ladies on fire and have all the men thanking him for getting them laid.”
“Is that right?” Imelda’s eyes swept over the group. “And what song would you say is the one that will be the most tantalizing for the fans? The most shocking for you to sing?” she said, her attention back on Halo.
But before he could reply, the rest of us all said, “‘Hard.’”
Imelda let out an inelegant snort as Halo tried to glare us all to death. Poor guy was so tense and we were trying to get him to relax. This was just another day at the rodeo for us, but for Halo, it was a first. He was overthinking every little comment he made, not to mention every move, and the sooner he realized he was fucking amazing, the easier this would be.
“’Hard’?” Imelda said. “As in…?”
I snorted. “We’re five guys, Imelda. What do you think?”
“Did you write that one?”
When I nodded, she looked to Halo and said, “I think you must be a rock star if you can sing one of his filthy songs and make him like it.”
I was close to telling her how much I liked it, and that he�
��d inspired the whole thing. But at the last second, I remembered I wasn’t allowed to announce that the first night Halo had really nailed this song we’d both been hard.
Then Halo said, “Yeah, I’m not too worried. I can handle Viper.”
Jagger choked on his swig of soda, clearly as dumbstruck as I was at the smartass double entendre, and Killian thumped him on the back as he stepped in and saved the day—as always.
“What he means is, we all get along really well,” Killian said, and aimed his lazy grin Imelda’s way. Fuckin’ charmer. “It’s crazy how music can bring people together, and it’s been unreal discovering our new sound and coming up with lyrics and songs we hope people are going to go crazy over.”
“Yeah, Halo’s breathed new life into us,” I said, and when I looked at Halo, I realized for the first time that he had done the impossible. He’d made me fall even more in love with music than I already was. That was some fuckin’ gift right there. Tearing my eyes away from his, I refocused on Imelda. “He’s inspired us to be creative and pushed us to be more.”
Okay, so maybe that’s what he does to me, I thought, when no one else agreed.
But then Killian spoke up. “I agree. The way he commands anything he touches is…insane. Almost unbelievable, really.” At those words, my eyes cut to Killian, who was focused on me.
Imelda whistled. “That’s some seriously high praise, Halo. But I can understand. I’m as obsessed with ‘Invitation’ as everyone else is, and after meeting you, I just know you are going to have people eating out of your hand. So tell me a little more about you. Where are you from? Your family?”
As Halo began talking to Imelda, I saw Killian smiling in my direction like a damn moron, and I reached up to scratch my temple with my middle finger. So I liked Halo—a lot. Was that a fucking crime? No. Was it totally freaking me out? Yes. I had no idea how to deal with this…this…whatever this was. And I had a feeling that Killian, Jagger, and Slade all knew that, which was exactly why they were taking such delight in torturing me.
The timing couldn’t be worse for me to develop an obsession with the angel. He was about to explode on the music scene in ways he didn’t even know, and have so many opportunities thrown his way. Opportunities that could be greatly hindered if it got out he was sleeping in my bed each night, and I was sleeping in him.
As Halo continued to talk with Imelda, the thought that I should put an end to this thing between us now, before we left Miami, crossed my mind. But as I ran my eyes over his profile, down his neck, to the red T-shirt that hugged his biceps and showed off his tanned arms, I knew I wasn’t going to be the one to call a halt to whatever this was between us. I was a selfish bastard, and I wanted Halo, and until he told me to get the fuck out of his bed, I planned to take that angel over and over again.
But until then, I had to pull my shit together and get my mind back in the game, because the game was about to get a whole lot more complicated.
“Right, guys,” Imelda said, putting her pen down on her pad. “I think I have all that I need here for now. If you want to go with Drew over there, he’s going to take you inside and get you ready for the photoshoot. You ready for your close-ups?”
Twenty-Three
Halo
CLICK CLICK CLICK.
“Halo, could you lower your chin a bit? Yeah, right there.” The photographer moved around in front of the five of us, snapping away at different angles. “All right now, Viper, bring your left foot forward a couple inches and turn in… Perfect.”
I held the position, front and center, between Viper and Killian, with Slade and Jagger on the ends beside them. The rest of the band had been outfitted in a shit-ton of black—all except for me. I was the lone man in head-to-toe white, playing off our name. Like I didn’t already stick out like a sore thumb, but as long as they didn’t put an actual halo on my head, I was fine with whatever the magazine wanted.
“Eyes on me but don’t move an inch. Set those jaws.” The photographer climbed up on a ladder to shoot us from above, and as I looked up, the light was blinding. I tried not to squint, but Jesus, it was like “move, but don’t move, look at me, but don’t look at me, keep your eyes open and try not to blink, look badass but not like an asshole,” and shit, how did models do this for a living? It was exhausting. I would’ve rather been answering invasive questions than have to do this. Then again, it was Rolling Stone, as in a cover and feature story, so if I had to stand here all day and pretend to scowl at the camera, then I’d do it. It just went to show how unglamorous things felt behind the scenes, even if the end result was kickass.
“All right, I wanna try something. A various stages of undress photo,” the photographer said.
“You want us to get naked, Jacques?” Jagger grinned, like he was totally down for it. Hell, he was already stripping his jacket off when the photographer—apparently named Jacques—held up his hand.
“Uh, not quite,” he said, waving his assistant over to fuss over our clothes. Jackets were stripped off, my pants were unbuttoned and slightly unzipped, and beside me, Viper lost his shirt. Great, like he wasn’t enough to look at fully clothed—now I had to stand here with Viper half-naked and positioned so all that warm skin brushed against me. They’d lifted my shirt up over my head but kept the sleeves on so that all of me was on display except for my arms. I had them crossed over my chest, which was a good damn thing, because it meant I couldn’t reach out to touch Viper, but skin on skin in front of everyone? Fucking torture. How the hell was I supposed to focus now?
“Can’t wait to get an eyeful of this when the magazine hits,” Viper murmured in my ear as the assistant adjusted the lighting. Taking advantage of the brief break, I looked back at him, but quickly caught my own eyeful. Viper’s hand was shoved down his pants. Down. His. Pants.
“What are you doing?” I said, not even bothering to mask my surprise.
Viper shrugged, but he had a smug grin on his face like he knew exactly what effect he was having on me. “Just doin’ what I’m told.” He trailed his eyes down my body to where my own pants were open and riding low on my hips and let out a low whistle. “Fuck me, Angel…”
“Later, if you’re lucky.”
“Really?” Viper’s eyes darkened. “I just might take you up on that.”
“Fuckin’ hell,” Jagger said from beside Viper, and then he leaned forward to seek out Slade on the other side. “Hey, man, you wanna switch?”
“Switch? Why?” Slade asked.
Jagger shot him a look, and when it was clear Slade wasn’t following, he inclined his head toward me and Viper. But when he still didn’t get it and the photographer turned around, Jagger said, “Uh, ’cause the right side’s my better side.”
“You look fine from both sides,” Jacques said, waving him off, making it clear Jagger was stuck right where he was.
“Sorry,” I whispered to him, and Viper snorted.
“Suck it the fuck up, asshole,” he said. “You’re just jealous.”
Jagger shrugged. “Yeah, well, Halo is really pretty.”
Viper turned around, and I could only imagine the glare he gave Jagger then, because Jagger put his hands up and mumbled something I couldn’t hear, but it was enough to have Viper facing forward again.
We went through another series of shots for Jacques’ “various stages of undress” theme, and by the time it was over, I’d never been so glad for a food break.
“Halo, don’t go too far,” Jacques called out after me as I pulled the shirt off my arms and took off for the catering table. “We’ve got solo shots, but I’ll start with Killian. That goes for the rest of you too.”
Solo shots? Screw the food; where was the damn alcohol?
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so miserable, Angel,” Viper said, coming up beside me.
“I preferred the interview, which should say a lot.”
Viper reached for one of the water pitchers lined up at the end of the table. He poured a couple of glasses an
d handed me one.
“No thanks. I need something stronger than water.”
“That’s not water.”
I sniffed the glass and reared back. “Holy shit.”
Viper chuckled and swallowed a mouthful. “They know how to keep their artists happy. Get ’em naked and liquored up.” Viper’s eyes heated as he took in the way my pants were still undone, and the fact that I’d gotten rid of my shirt. “Have to say, I fuckin’ approve.”
God, now was not the time to be looking at Viper the way I wanted to, not with all the people milling around. I needed to steer clear of him for the rest of the shoot unless I wanted to give us away.
“You need to go away.” I sipped my vodka and turned my attention to where Killian had finished his solo shoot and they had moved on to Slade. Even he looked more comfortable in front of the camera than I’d been. Maybe the alcohol would help me loosen up a bit.
“You can’t get rid of me that easily, Angel. Like I’m goin’ anywhere when you look like you wanna jump me.”
I snorted out a laugh. “That’s exactly why you need to get the fuck away from me. What happened to keeping this shit on the down-low?”
Viper smirked and brought his drink to his lips. As he lifted his arm, he brushed it against mine, and that meant the bastard was too close. If he was making it his mission to taunt me, he was doing a damn good job.
“Halo, you’re up,” Jacques called, giving me the out I needed to get away from the tempting man beside me. I took a long swallow of my drink, tossed it in the trash, and walked away before Viper could say another word.
Keep it professional and try not to look like you’re in pain this time, I told myself as I stopped in front of Jacques. He pursed his lips as he looked me up and down, and that was when I remembered I’d stripped out of the long-sleeved shirt after the group shoot.
VIPER (Fallen Angel Book 2) Page 11