Page 12 of Pretty Little Rocker

Seeing the other guy sitting off to the side, I walked over to him. With a grin, he stood, and we shook hands. “Great show,” I told him. “Good luck up there. You have killer skills.”

Atticus lifted a brow. “If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have ever guessed that you were the one up there playing. The name Hellion fits you. But I think the world knows you as someone else.”

I stiffened, unease rolling around in my stomach. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He rolled his eyes. “Easy, Havoc. I’m not going to announce your secret identity. You have it for a reason, and now I understand why. It’s not fun living in anyone’s shadow.” He grimaced sympathetically. “But fair warning, Wes had his phone out filming your battle with Cutter and then left right after. He made his escape before anyone else noticed. Tucked his tail and ran as soon as you pulled off your hoodie because he bombed hard.”

“Thanks for the warning,” I said appreciatively, shaking his hand again.

An odd feeling of calm came over me as I watched him take the stage where Ky, Sparks, and Jamie were already waiting. I’d taken drastic measures for years not to reveal that I was Havoc. But if Wes outed me? It wouldn’t be the end of the world. Maybe I’d lose a few sponsorships. Or I’d gain a lot more. Either way, I didn’t think I cared if Hayat and Havoc were blended together.

Neither was giving the Autumn’s Slumber guys a double middle finger. I wanted this—I wanted them. However I had to get them. If that meant hiding behind a screen for every show, then that was what I would do. I’d wear their mask, cover my body in their paint, and give every ounce of myself to being their drummer.

Because we were meant to be.

They were my band.

They were who I’d always been waiting for.

Maybe in more ways than one.

Taking a seat, I watched the band with Atticus. The four of them sounded amazing together. Sparks and Jamie were jamming. Ky was into the lyrics like he was in every video I’d ever watched, just like the audition he’d given for Dad and Jace. Every nerve in my body reacted to the way his voice flowed through the highs and lows, no autotune needed. Pure, golden vocals that proved to me yet again he had the potential to be the next ruler of the rock world.

Atticus and the guys played three songs before Dad ended their set. We were all enjoying the music, and the way they interacted with one another was good. But nothing about it had been extraordinary. It was more Jamie, Sparks, and Ky who moved seamlessly together. Atticus, while exceptionally talented, seemed tense up there with them. I wasn’t sure if it was because he was nervous or if he simply wasn’t feeling the chemistry.

Standing, he exited the stage and took his earlier seat, giving me a chin lift as I took the throne. Atticus was roughly the same height as me, so I didn’t have to do much adjusting. Once I was satisfied, I looked at Ky, who was watching me with hooded eyes behind his mask.

“What’s your favorite song?” he asked me, his voice pouring over me like heated silk. It wasn’t fair that he could affect me so effortlessly. No one else ever had, and I liked to think it was because I was immune to anyone sexually. But this delicious guy proved me wrong. Damn it. “If you had to pick one song to listen to for the rest of your life, what would it be?”

“You haven’t earned that yet,” I told him. It was too personal, and I wasn’t just going to give out that kind of intimate information like it wasn’t precious.

Tuning him out for the moment, I turned to the other two band members. Jamie, I knew I had. He was practically wagging his tail in his sweet, golden retriever way. I wanted to scratch him behind the ears and tell him what a good boy he was. Sparks was a grumpy asshole, though, so I smirked at him. “Pick a song. And make it one where you actually have to do a little work. Slacker.”

He was standing right beside a mic, so I could hear him grinding his teeth. I gave Jamie a wink when he laughed at his bandmate.

“Trivium’s ‘Until the World Goes Cold,’” Sparks snarled in response, his irises darkening in a way that made my heart skip a beat and me squirm a little on the throne. Damn hot rocker. “Try not to fuck up the drum solo.”

“Sparks.” There was a warning bite in Ky’s voice that we both ignored.

“Ah, aren’t you just the cutest thing,” I cooed. “I bet you weren’t hating me when I was killing Nile’s song. But whatever. Just don’t get your guitar too wet from crying when I make you my bitch.”

Ky and Jamie both snorted, and I could tell Sparks wanted to smile but refused to let himself. I liked his tenacity, even if he tended to be heavier on the ass part. “Whenever you’re ready, princess.”

Flame pyres flared high in my eyes, which Sparks must have noticed because he took a cautious step back from my drums.

Princesses were soft, delicate, fragile.

I wasn’t a fucking princess.

I was a motherfucking goddess.

Wild. Creative. Feral at times.

“Try to keep up,” I said sweetly, lifting my sticks.

Chapter Eight

Ky

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