HALO: Fallen Angel Series #1

by Frank, Ella

  “How about he looks at Carly,” Killian said, as he shoved Jagger in the shoulder. “Since she’s the one doing the interview?”

  Before anyone could chime in with anything else ridiculous, a woman with tight red curls stuck her head behind the curtain.

  “You guys are on in five, four, three,” then she mouthed, Two, one, and before Jagger was shoved out from behind the curtain, he whispered to Halo, “What about redheads?”

  Then Carly Wilde’s voice came over the speakers. “Please welcome to the stage, everyone, Fallen Angel.”

  Thirty-Nine

  Halo

  “CHAMPAGNE, SIR?” THE flight attendant asked as I buckled myself in on MGA’s private jet the next morning. Private jet. Will I ever get used to this? Answer: I certainly hoped not.

  As Viper made his way down the aisle, he swiped a champagne glass from the attendant’s tray. “Might as well keep the party goin’,” he said, winking my way before downing half the contents. For a heart-stopping second, I thought he’d choose the seat beside me, but he sauntered past, claiming the cream leather couch on the opposite side.

  I blew out a breath and smiled at the flight attendant whose nametag read Shirley. “Thanks, Shirley, I’d love one.”

  Last night’s performance on Carly Wilde’s show had gone phenomenally well—nothing like our Savannah show—and we’d spent all night celebrating at a dive bar. My head pounded, but I drank the champagne gratefully. Hair of the dog and all that.

  “‘With a new name, a new sound, and a new lead singer, the band formerly known as TBD made its first live appearance last night on Late Night with Carly Wilde, and it was nothing short of spectacular.’” Killian grinned as he read to us off his phone. “‘Just last week, the world saw its first glimpse of new frontman, Halo, when the Warden posted a secretly recorded video of the singer performing what will surely be a hit if the reactions on social media are any indication. With the face of an angel and the voice to match, Halo stunned the late-night crowd, breathing new life into the powerhouse that was TBD, and all but ensuring the rockers of Fallen Angel a future spot among the greats. We’re anxiously awaiting the debut album, release date still to be announced…’”

  Killian had been reading off articles the entire drive to the airport, and while I was ecstatic at the response, I couldn’t stop focusing on the work we had ahead of ourselves.

  “We just have to write and record an entire album in three months and make it kickass. Worthy of being one of ‘the future greats.’ No big deal,” I said.

  “You,” Viper said, pointing my way. “Drink. Stop fuckin’ stressing.”

  “Yeaaah, we’re goin’ to Miami.” Jagger rolled his hips like he was grinding in a club—shit, maybe in his head he was.

  “And what does that mean? You don’t stress in Miami?” I said.

  “Damn right,” Killian said. “Impossible to stress in paradise. We’re gonna write, record, drink, spend every spare second on the beach—”

  “And prowl at night.” Jagger high-fived Slade, and I had to shake my head. Easy as that, huh?

  The pilot came on over the intercom, announcing we’d be taking off momentarily, and as the others buckled themselves in, Viper cocked his head at me.

  “You still look nervous, Angel. I bet I know something that’d take your mind off those worries.” With the heated stare he was giving me, my eyes widened. What the hell was he doing?

  Viper swung his champagne glass back and forth, holding it by the stem, and then he grinned. “Once we take off, how about I introduce you to the mile-high club?”

  My mouth fell open. Did he really just say that in front of the others? Uh, what was I supposed to say to that? I knew what I wanted to say, but…

  A chuckle met my ears, Killian shaking his head and throwing one of the pillows in Viper’s direction. “Ignore him. He asks everyone,” he said.

  “Everyone, huh?” I said, raising a brow as my shoulders relaxed. “Anyone ever take you up on it?”

  Slade snorted. “Oh yeah.”

  “The flight attendant from the trip to Chicago,” Jagger said. “Had to grab my own damn food on that trip.”

  “And the manager from… Who’s that band that opened for us in Dallas? Something stick…” Killian snapped his fingers and pointed at Viper. “Stage Trick. That’s it. He wasn’t even supposed to be on the damn plane.”

  Slade laughed. “Shit yeah. And then—”

  “Okay, we’re done here. Thanks for the trip down memory lane, assholes,” Viper said.

  “Someone’s gotta remind you. With so many to remember, it’s gotta be a little crowded up there.” Killian tapped the side of his head, and under his breath, Viper cursed.

  So Viper got around. That wasn’t exactly news to me. I’d known what I was getting myself into, but hearing the others talk about it so casually, jokingly, made me glad about his status, because it was taking the focus off what I was doing with him. Or half doing at this point.

  Like he knew what I was thinking, Viper shrugged, and as the guys continued, I settled back in the most comfortable plane seat I’d ever been in. A plush recliner was hands down the way to travel, and as the plane began to race down the runway, I found my eyelids growing heavy from the lack of sleep. In a few hours, we’d be away from the cold of New York and welcomed into the warm, sunny arms of Miami, and I couldn’t fucking wait.

  “WAKEY, WAKEY, SLEEPIN’ beauty.” The low, rough sound of Viper’s voice by my ear had my eyes opening.

  Sometime during the three-hour flight, my mind had veered off into dangerous territory. I had gone from a relaxing sleep to a wicked-hot dream. One where Viper had taken me to the back of the plane and introduced me to the mile-high club that he seemed to be a VIP member of.

  As his face came into view now, my eyes automatically searched out the lips that had just spoken. The ones I could still feel on my neck from the dream, as he’d followed me into the larger-than-average restroom, shoved me up against one of the walls, unzipped my jeans, and taken me.

  My cock kicked at the thought, clearly liking the idea of having Viper in control of me, as I recalled in vivid detail how those lips had felt as they’d moved to my shoulder, his teeth biting into the tense muscle there—

  “We’re here,” Viper said, his mouth curving in a crooked smile, as though he knew where my mind had gone, and when my gaze flew back to his, I realized just how close he was and where we were, and immediately shifted away from him.

  Viper chuckled, and that didn’t do anything to help my…condition.

  “Relax, Angel.” Viper took one of my curls and wound it around his index finger. “The others are out in the car.”

  I glanced over his shoulder to make sure he wasn’t screwing with me; Viper wasn’t exactly the king of discretion. But when all I saw was an empty plane, I brought my eyes back to his and said, “Then we should go. Shouldn’t we?”

  “Probably.”

  “Probably?”

  “Yeah, probably. The guys have been waiting a little while now, but when I came back here to get you, and heard you groaning in your sleep”—Viper tugged on the curl around his finger—“I decided to sit here and watch you for a minute…or five.”

  Oh my God. If the ground wanted to open up and swallow me right now, that would be A-okay with me.

  Deciding to deny, deny, deny, I shook my head. “You’re full of shit. I wasn’t groaning.”

  “Mhmm. Yes, you were.” Viper ran his eyes down to my very obvious erection and said, “What were you dreamin’ about, Angel?”

  Like I was going to tell him. “Nothing.”

  “Liar.” Viper rubbed the hair between his thumb and forefinger, his eyes narrowing on me. “Okay. We’ll play your way for now. You’ll tell me eventually.”

  That made me laugh. “Pretty sure of yourself there, aren’t you?”

  Viper leaned in close and put his lips to the corner of my mouth. “Not pretty sure. One hundred percent sure. I’m also sure of y
ou. So unless you’re gonna tell me that the thrill of flying in a private jet got you all kinds of fucking excited, I’m going to place bets that the hard cock between your legs right now is for me.”

  A rush of air left my lips, and I turned my head to try and get a taste of his. But Viper moved out of reach, releasing my hair and standing tall, and when I looked up at him, he smirked.

  “Hold that thought till we get to the house.”

  Shit. “Then what?”

  Viper palmed the front of his jeans, drawing my eyes to his arousal.

  “Then you’re gonna tell me what you were dreamin’ about.” Viper ran a hand through his hair. “You got five minutes, Angel. Don’t make me come back here and get you.”

  That had been enough of a warning for me, and thirty minutes later, Slade was pulling the black Cadillac SUV that had been waiting at the private hangar to a stop in front of a set of wrought-iron gates that fenced off a driveway so long that I couldn’t see the actual house.

  The drive between the airport and what I now knew to be Indian Creek Island had been eye-opening, to say the least. For one, the sun was out, miracle of all damn miracles. I was used to the blizzardy mess that was New York right now, and the idea that I’d be able to sit outside and soak up the warmth of the sun in February was really damn appealing. Second were the sheer sizes of the houses we’d been driving by to get to our final destination.

  Jagger had been acting like a tour guide of sorts, explaining how Indian Creek Island was the most exclusive place to live in the Miami-Dade area. With approximately forty-one homes on this slice of paradise, it offered luxury and privacy to MGA’s clients and artists, and for the next three months, this was home.

  I felt like I’d tripped and stumbled into an alternate universe—a really fucking great one.

  “It’s good to be back in Miami,” Killian said as Slade wound down the window and punched in the code.

  As the massive gates yawned open, and Slade put the SUV in drive, Jagger leaned across the second set of seats and said, “Wait till you see this place, Halo. It’s totally sick. Twelve bedrooms, ten bars, a swimming pool and Jacuzzi, a sky bar—”

  “A recording studio,” Killian said, twisting around in the passenger seat. “A 3D movie room.”

  “A helipad,” Slade added, as I peered out the window at the lush green foliage and palm trees that lined the entryway. “And anything it doesn’t have, you can get with one call.”

  “Paradise,” Jagger said, and when I looked out the front windshield, an enormous palatial estate seemed to appear in the middle of all that greenery, as though it had sprung from the earth the same way the plants had.

  Slade brought the car to a stop at the front entrance, which looked like some kind of Spanish bell tower. As I climbed out and craned my head back to take in the sheer size of it, I heard doors being slammed shut behind me as the guys continued talking about sun, sex, and—

  “I call dibs on the guesthouse, losers.” Viper slung a massive duffel over his shoulder and then picked up another before heading to the stairs.

  “That’s not fucking fair. You had it last time,” Slade said, as he hiked a backpack up his arm.

  “Don’t matter. Rules are rules. Whoever calls it gets it.” Viper walked backward, a shit-eating grin on his face as he stared at the four of us who were standing at the back of the Cadillac.

  Jagger grabbed his Louis Vuitton suitcase from the trunk and extended the handle. “Eh, less awkward that way. Now we don’t have to pretend to remember every new guy we run into in the kitchen.”

  Viper flipped him off. “Doesn’t save me from tripping over every new chick out by the pool doing a downward fucking dog at the ass crack of dawn.”

  “What can I say? I like someone who’s a little bit flexible.” Jagger laughed and then wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Don’t worry, Halo. There’s plenty of rooms to go around—”

  “And plenty to choose from so there’s a few doors in between,” Viper called over his shoulder, and while I knew the others would take that to mean so I wouldn’t have to hear Jagger, my mind went directly to how they wouldn’t hear me…with Viper.

  Forty

  Viper

  DID YOU FINALLY pick a room?

  It was around an hour after we’d arrived at the mansion that I tossed my bag onto the California king in the guesthouse and kicked off my boots. After taking a look around the main floor, we’d decided to go and settle into our respective corners and get some much-needed shut-eye before meeting up for our first meal in the big house later that afternoon.

  But since Halo had already taken a three-hour catnap, I had a feeling the angel would more than likely be awake. Not two minutes after I’d sent the text, I got my answer.

  Angel: I did. How’s your luxury suite out there by the ocean?

  I walked over to the French doors I’d opened as soon as I’d let myself in and looked down to the small waves that were crashing onto the sand.

  Fucking amazing. Wanna come see?

  And while the view was amazing, I found my eyes glued to the three little dots on my phone.

  Angel: The ocean?

  Something about that comment made my pulse speed up, because it was obvious Halo was thinking about something other than the goddamn sea. If that’s what you wanna look at.

  There was a pause for a moment, and while I could’ve let him off the hook—fuck that. Halo had been the one to open this line of dialogue, and I wasn’t about to let him run and hide. Come down here, Angel.

  Three dots appeared, disappeared, and then—

  Angel: I don’t think that’s a good idea.

  Bingo. Why? You’re just going to look at the ocean.

  Angel: Now who’s lying?

  If he thought I wasn’t about to own up to that, think again. Me.

  Fuck. I reached down to massage the heel of my palm over my dick as I leaned a shoulder up against the door. What room are you in?

  Angel: I’m not telling you that.

  But you want to, don’t you, Angel? Just like you want to come down here and see my…view.

  A couple of minutes went by, and just when I thought Halo might’ve decided he was done with the conversation, up popped—

  Angel: I really fucking do, which is…crazy.

  Ah, okay. This…this I could work with. Crazy how?

  Angel: Crazy as in, I can’t stop thinking about your damn mouth for one. And what it did to me the other night.

  Oh, I liked that. I liked that a whole fucking lot. My first taste of the angel had left me wanting more.

  And what is my mouth doing now whenever you think about it?

  Three dots. No dots. Three dots—Angel: Kissing me…sucking me…spouting off shit that I shouldn’t find hot but…do.

  Jesus. Halo had my cock so fucking hard from this exchange that I reached down to flick open the button and unzip where I stood. I needed some kind of relief, and if he wasn’t going to come to me, then the next best thing would be to come thinking about him.

  Was that what you were dreaming about on the plane?

  Angel: LOL. That’s driving you nuts, isn’t it?

  YOU are driving me nuts. Not to mention making mine ache, I replied, and then added, I haven’t jerked off this much since I was in fucking high school.

  Angel: So I heard. Apparently you just fuck whoever is close by.

  Come down here and that’ll be you.

  I wasn’t sure what kind of response I’d get to that, but then Halo wrote back, See, that shouldn’t make me hot, but damn, it really does.

  I shoved a hand into my jeans and wrapped my fingers around my aching length, and, no longer able to text, I hit the call button and brought the phone to my ear.

  The second it connected, before Halo could say a word, I said, “What were you dreamin’ about on the plane, Angel?”

  “Shit.” Halo’s response was part moan, part curse, and much deeper than his usual cadence.

  “Angel?”


  The heavy breathing in my ear told me I wasn’t the only one turned on, and when Halo finally said, “You,” my fingers tightened around my cock and a low growl escaped my throat.

  “What about me?”

  “Viper…”

  “Angel. What about me?” As I waited for his answer, I walked back into the room and stretched out on the massive bed, jeans now pushed down my hips so my cock was firmly in hand.

  “I was thinking about you and the, um, mile-high club.”

  You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. I’d thought the guys yapping about all that would’ve turned Halo off. Apparently not. “And what about it?”

  When Halo groaned in my ear, I clamped my fist around the root of my dick and cursed. Damn, whatever it was, that groan sounded fucking promising. “Angel?”

  “Yeah.” Halo panted in my ear.

  “What were we doing?”

  “You were behind me…”

  My eyes fell shut as I imagined Halo somewhere up in the big house with his hand wrapped around his dick, as he imagined—

  “Your hand was working my cock, and you were…inside me.”

  Oh fuck. I hadn’t expected that. But I sure as shit wasn’t about to let it go. “Is that something you want?”

  “I…uh…yes? I think so.”

  “You think so? You’d better be sure.”

  I heard Halo take in a ragged breath.

  “Come down here,” I said.

  Halo let out a strained laugh. “No way.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, my frustration and lust at an all-time high before I reined it in. “Okay, fuck. What else was I doing to you? In this dream.”

  Halo didn’t miss a beat. “Biting me.”

  My hips bucked up off the bed, my slick dick now sliding easily through my hand as my climax raced down my spine. This scorching call was only seconds away from being over.

  “Where?”

  “Where?”

  “Yes. Where was I biting you? I want to know so the next time I get you alone near a goddamn wall, I can shove you up against it, get my hand around your cock, and leave teeth marks on—”