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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.”
“Come on, V. He’s the first guy we’ve seen where you haven’t fallen asleep halfway through.”
That was true, but I wasn’t sure this was any better.
“If he can do this to you, imagine what he could do to an arena full of screaming fans.”
Okay, Killian had a point, and fuck him for that. But did I really want to subject myself to this kind of torture day in and day out? I’d been there and done that, and look how that turned out.
I narrowed my eyes, but before I could say anything else, Killian straightened and said to Halo, “Right. Why don’t you come take a seat and we can shoot the shit a little?”
Goddamn Killian. Well, at least he couldn’t say I hadn’t warned him.
Four
Halo
HOLY SHIT. I’D just performed for TBD, and I hadn’t forgotten the lyrics, passed out, vomited all over myself, or pulled any other equally embarrassing stunt. Instead, I’d closed my eyes and let myself fall into the song, blocking out my audience completely. It wasn’t until I’d opened them again and saw the stunned reactions from three of them that I felt the weight leave my shoulders. Who knew what they’d decide, but for myself, I knew I’d killed it—even if they didn’t think I was the right fit, I couldn’t have done any better.
