Page 17 of Viper (Fallen Angel 2)

Killian took a bite out his hamburger and nodded. “They’re gonna want to see how some of the other singles hit, but they’re super fucking impressed with the stuff we’ve sent them.”

No shit. It was some of the best music we’d ever made, and all because of the man sitting to my left. Halo had lit a fire under our asses, made us think outside the familiar TBD box, and challenge ourselves, and hell if that didn’t make him even more appealing than I already found him.

I looked over at the angel, who was staring at the rest of the guys in silence as though he were merely an onlooker to the conversation, instead of an integral part of it.

“You okay there, Angel?” I said, bumping his shoulder with mine, and when Halo turned my way, he shook his head.

“He’s in shock.” Jagger slung an arm around his lady’s shoulder and tugged her in close to his side. “Not every day someone finds out his song has had eighty-five million streams in a week.”

“Someone get him a paper bag to breathe into,” Slade joked.

“Or just bend over and put your head between your knees,” Killian suggested.

Or between mine.

“I heard it on the radio this morning,” the woman plastered against Jagger’s side chimed in as she aimed a flirty smile Halo’s way. “I just love your voice.”

Yeah, I was sure his voice was all she loved.

“Thanks, guys,” Halo said, grabbing another handful of chips for his plate, since I’d eaten most of his. “I’m fine, it’s just a little…wow, is all.”

“You think this is wow?” Slade said, sitting back in his chair. “Wait till we get to start thinking about a tour. The sets. The lights. The pyrotechnics. It’s gonna be off the chain.”

Halo reached for one of the chips on his plate. “I can’t even imagine.”

“You better,” I said, then drained my beer and looked to the cooler to find it empty. “You’re gonna be center stage in a big way, Angel. We have to think up something epic for your virgin flight.”

When Halo’s eyes widened as though he hadn’t thought that far ahead, I chuckled. Maybe it was time to bring out something a little stronger if the guys were going to start talking about stage setups and world tours. Poor guy looked like he was still coming to grips with the fact his music was being listened to…and loved.

Getting to my feet, I looked around the table and said, “How about we crack open something a little stronger than beer, yeah?”

When the rest of the guys nodded, I glanced down to Halo, who said, “Vodka?”

I reached across him for another chip from his plate and popped it in my mouth, and Halo’s lips tugged up at the corners. “Maybe another bag of chips, too,” he suggested.

“Anything you want, Angel,” I said, and winked before I stepped around him and headed inside.

As I rummaged through the walk-in pantry, trying to find a flavor of potato chip I liked, the sound of one of the terrace doors opening and closing had me sticking my head out to see Killian walking across to the kitchen.

I went back to the task at hand, and when I spotted a package of salt and vinegar chips on the top shelf, I reached for them.

“Couldn’t keep your hands off him, huh?”

Chips now in hand, I turned to see Killian standing in the pantry’s doorway with his arms crossed over his chest and his shoulder up against the doorjamb, and I knew I could play this one of two ways.

One, I could pretend I had no idea who he was talking about, or two, I could just own that shit—and with the way I’d had Halo groaning under me last night, there was no doubt in my mind who I owned.

I opened up the bag of chips and stuffed my hand inside, and as I brought one up to my mouth, I stopped and looked Killian in the eye. “I told you I wouldn’t be able to.” Then I crunched down into it.

“Fuckin’ hell.” Killian laughed, shaking his head as he shoved off the door and walked inside the pantry. “I should’ve known better. If anyone could get a straight guy to fuck him, it’d be you.”

I shrugged. “Who said I was the one getting fucked?”

Killian’s feet came to a stop, his mouth falling open, as I shoved my hand back into the bag of chips.

“You’re kidding.”

I shook my head, enjoying this a little more than I probably should’ve. “I’m not.”

Killian looked as though I’d smacked him over the back of the head with a two-by-four, and when he finally regained use of his motor skills, he managed, “Jesus.”

Not shocked or bothered by Killian’s response, I shoved the bag of chips against his chest and then looked around the pantry again. “Here, hold these, I’m trying to find the barbecue ones.”

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