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Four
Halo
I STARED ACROSS the long dining room table at the man who’d claimed the seat beside Viper. Ever since the guy had come barreling in, along with a handful of others, all of whom the band seemed to know, he’d been plastered to Viper’s side.
Even now, while the rest of us dug into the steak and potatoes we’d had delivered, the shaggy-haired guy—Ansel or some stupid name like that—wouldn’t stop whispering in Viper’s ear. Ten bucks said the hand he had under the table wasn’t on his own leg.
“Halo, tell everyone what Carly Wilde said to you after we did her show,” Killian called out from the head of the table.
Viper’s head lifted, his eyes meeting mine before I forced my gaze away.
“Sorry, what?” I said.
“Carly Wilde,” Killian repeated. “What was it she said to you?”
“Oh. Uh…” I remembered exactly what she said, but I wasn’t self-indulgent enough to repeat it, and not to a bunch of people I’d just met. “I must’ve forgotten.”
Killian frowned like he knew I was lying. “She called him an angel and told him if he ever wanted to fall to the dark side…” Then he waggled his brows, and I flushed.
“She said that shit to you?” Viper’s voice was like a freshly sharpened blade, and when I looked his way, his eyes narrowed.
I could feel everyone else staring, and the last thing I wanted to do was turn the focus on me, so I shrugged. “She was joking.”
“Bullshit,” Jagger said. “I was there, and the woman was practically drooling. She slip you her number?”
I recoiled. “No, she didn’t give me her number. Jesus.”
“Dude, you could’ve fucked Carly Wilde. She’s hot. I’d bang her,” the guy sitting on the other side of shaggy-haired dude—or Ansel, or whatever his name was—said, and Viper shot a glare in his direction.
“No thanks.” I poured myself another round of vodka and tossed a lemon slice in the glass. Viper was practically boring a hole into my head with the force of his stare, but I didn’t look at him again. I was still confused about what the hell had happened earlier. This morning he’d seemed fine, but as the day wore on, Viper’s mood had deteriorated, and though he hadn’t outright said it, I couldn’t help but feel like it was somehow my fault. I replayed our short conversation, trying to put my finger on the issue, but Viper hadn’t given any indication that he was upset at the time, so…maybe it wasn’t me? Maybe something had happened after I’d gone down to the studio?
But if that was true, then why was he calling me Halo now? Since the time I met him, I’d always been “Angel,” and for some reason, the name change bothered me more than his foul mood.
“So you’re from New York too?” the girl beside me—Vanessa—said. She’d been perfectly nice, trying to engage me in small talk, since the others all knew each other and had inside jokes I knew nothing about. Not that I cared. I was too busy trying not to notice what was happening across from me.
I swallowed down some vodka before answering. “Yep.”
She waited for me to add on to that, but when I didn’t, she said, “Pretty different from Miami, huh?”
Viper had gone back to ignoring me, his head inclined toward Ansel as the guy continued whispering in his ear, and when a sexy curve tilted Viper’s lips, my stomach lurched.
“Mhmm.” I kept drinking as I watched the scene in front of me unfolding. Would that guy end up in Viper’s guesthouse tonight? I already knew the answer to that.
“Ansel’s been talking about nothing but Viper since he heard you guys were in town,” Vanessa said, her gaze following mine.
My jaw ticked as the alcohol buzzed in my veins. “Is that right?”
“Oh yeah. He said they hooked up last time the band was in Miami, and I didn’t believe him, but I guess he was telling the truth, huh?”
“Looks like it,” I muttered. You knew what would happen. You know who Viper is.
Yeah, I did, but it’d been less than twenty-four hours since I’d been the one in his bed underneath him, and already he had a replacement. It stung. Of course it fucking did. It didn’t matter how prepared I thought I’d been for the reality of what would happen after spending a night with Viper—the actual aftermath was a harder pill to swallow.
It would help if he’d been shit in bed. But to have the most intense sexual experience of my life and then pretend tonight that it never happened? While Viper sat there looking so gorgeous and more edible than the damn steak on my plate? Ugh.
I ran a hand over my hair before remembering I’d tied it back this morning, and then sighed. How long did I have to sit here and watch Ansel pawing at Viper before I could leave? Would this be the way things were now? Me sitting on the periphery, watching Viper and his endless conquests?
