I still wanted him to be a friend, but he didn’t want anything to do with us since we’d made the decision to kick him out of Autumn’s Slumber. It hadn’t been anything personal. It was a career choice, not an emotional one.

Aubree and Kale watching with us was a good thing, especially when Devlin Cutter sat on his throne behind the drum set on the left. He was done making adjustments before Wes even took his seat.

“I don’t give a fuck if you’re better than me or not. For all I know, you’re the best drummer in the world. I don’t give two shits.” Devlin twirled one of his drumsticks in his hand. “I’m going to play a song, then you’re going to play one that you think is better. Don’t try to kiss my ass, boy. I want you to kick it. Ass-kissers don’t go far in this business. All it gets you is the smell of shit stuck in your nose.”

I could practically hear Wes gulp, his cockiness suddenly gone.

“Hope he tanks fast. I want to see Hellion up there,” Sparks muttered close to my ear.

“Atticus was good too,” I argued reasonably. But Sparks was right. These final three had been good, but Hellion had already shown us he could put on a show. He had passion and precision. It had been a thing of beauty to watch him with Emil earlier.

But if Emil had been paired with someone else, I was sure he would have made the top three over Wes.

My guitarist got his wish, because Wes tanked before he could get halfway through his own song to one-up Devlin. From the sour look on the older drummer’s face, he was more than disappointed. Wes not only picked a song that hadn’t been a better choice, but he’d also completely messed up the first drum solo.

Devlin let him finish the song, though, and then pointed a stick at Atticus. “Impress me.”

Atticus and Devlin seemed to have fun challenging each other. They each played three songs, leaving them both pouring sweat but grinning at each other.

Grabbing the towel Harris tossed him, Devlin wiped his face while Atticus retook his seat. After taking a moment to drink from his bottle of water, Devlin finally looked at the third and final candidate.

“I’m tired, kid. You start us off. Let me see what you can do first.”

Hellion twisted his neck left and right, rolling his shoulders to loosen up. Then he went straight into “Bleed” by Meshuggah. It was a song that many metal drummers challenged each other to, but it was extremely rough on the drummer’s feet.

Devlin’s jaw clenched while he listened and waited, then went straight into his own song, “Burn” by Deep Purple. Hellion seemed to snort at the choice and began playing Dream Theater’s “The Dance of Eternity.”

But when it should have been Devlin’s turn, Hellion kept playing, going straight for the throat with Nile’s “Lashed to the Slave Stick.” It was another metal song, with a blasting beat. Just watching the masked drummer play the song was an intense experience. Hellion had already shown us his range earlier. Now, he was playing to win against rock royalty.

From the grin on Devlin’s face, Hellion had done just that. The last song took coordination as well as creativity. I couldn’t look away from Hellion. Metal wasn’t part of our sound, but this wasn’t about that. It was to see the drummer’s passion. And fuck, but I’d never seen anyone so caught up in music before. Not like this. Not like our Hellion.

When the song was over, Devlin stood and bowed to the other drummer. Jamie, Sparks, and I wanted to bow at Hellion’s feet. Holy shit.

“You win, Hayat,” Devlin laughed. “Damn, sweetheart, that was magical. I didn’t even know you’d been playing around with that song. Beautiful.”

Sparks turned to stone beside me, while Jamie gave a cackle from the other side.

With a heavy sigh, Hellion pushed their hood back and then lifted the balaclava mask. Face drenched in sweat. Skin glowing red from exertion and the heat from wearing the mask. Chest heaving.

And my dick had never been so hard in my life.

Jesus fucking Christ. She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

Her thick, wild hair had been tamed into French braids down her back. She had smeared black makeup around her eyes that were red, but with an irritated grumble, she swiped the contacts out, giving me a glance at those aquamarine eyes. When she grinned at Devlin, I ached to lick her deep dimples.

Mine.

I pointedly ignored the possessive growl deep in the back of my mind. That shit needed to shut the fuck up. Jamie had been right. Hayat was made for us—made for me.

But that didn’t mean Sparks had been wrong. She would attract the wrong kind of attention.

Unless she was willing to keep her identity anonymous like the rest of us.

I hoped she could accept that, because I wasn’t sure I was willing to offer the position to anyone else. And I wasn’t completely sure if that was because of her exceptional talent.

Or because I was unwilling to let her get away for my own personal reasons.

Mine.