VIPER (Fallen Angel Book 2)

by Brooke Blaine

  Feeling someone’s gaze on me, I looked up and met Killian’s eyes. Unlike me, he didn’t seem surprised by what he saw. In fact, his mouth tilted up slightly on one side, as if he were pleased by Viper’s actions. He winked at me before turning his attention back to what the others were saying, while I sat quiet and unmoving so Viper wouldn’t notice what he’d done and pull his hand away.

  Twenty minutes passed in the blink of an eye, and once we arrived, we filed out of the SUV, and I missed the warmth of Viper’s hand immediately. But now wasn’t the time to think about that or him, because in a few minutes, I’d be coming face-to-face with Marshall Gellar. I craned my head back to look up at the Keystone Building, where MGA held their offices.

  “I wonder which floor they’re on,” I murmured, mostly to myself.

  “The top five,” Viper said. “Gellar’s office is the corner one right there.” He pointed to the floor-to-ceiling glass windows on the highest floor, and then we all made our way inside to go through security before loading into the elevator.

  It was odd, but I’d felt more nervous about seeing Viper again than I did about meeting the man responsible for putting out our album. Maybe because I knew the others could handle whatever was lobbed our way, since they’d been working with him for so long.

  Once the elevator doors opened, we were ushered into Mr. Gellar’s office, a massive room that overlooked the East River. His chair faced away from us, but from the sound of his voice, it seemed he was on a call, so we quietly took up spots in front of his desk and sat there taking in the gold and platinum albums adorning one wall. More than five of those belonged to TBD, and I let myself visualize our Fallen Angel album taking up residence beside them. It was gonna happen. I could feel it.

  “Guys,” Gellar said, spinning around in his chair and setting his phone in the cradle. Then he stood and came around the desk to shake Killian’s hand. “Sorry to keep you waiting. You fellas need anything? Drinks?”

  As he went down the line to greet each of us, we shook our heads, and when Gellar stopped in front of me, I mustered up some of the charm and confidence my parents and Imogen claimed I had.

  The CEO of MGA was lean and tanned, with a headful of salt-and-pepper hair and the intimidating stare of someone who knew how to do business. His handshake conveyed that much as well—firm and unyielding.

  “You must be Halo,” he said, smiling at me, but it wasn’t an overly friendly smile. It was more what I imagined a wolf looked like as he lorded over his prey.

  “It’s good to finally meet you, Mr. Gellar,” I said, and a roar of laughter left him.

  “Mr. Gellar? Call me Marshall.” He gestured for us to sit as he walked back to his oversized chair—throne, more like—and then he wasted no time getting down to business. “Gentlemen, I have to tell you, I’ve listened to your album…”

  Out of the corner of my eye I could see Killian holding his breath, and I found myself doing the same. Sure, we’d heard he liked some of the things we sent his way while we were in Miami, but shit, what if he’d changed his mind? The pressure in the room was intense.

  Marshall shook his head, and my stomach dropped, but then a wide grin spread across his lips. “You boys have outdone yourselves.”

  A collective sigh went through the room as Marshall continued.

  “If I’d known this is what you were capable of, I’d have kicked Trent to the curb for you a long time ago.” Then he held his hands up. “Kidding, kidding. But Corruption is gold. You haven’t made it easy to narrow down the singles.”

  Beside me, Killian reached over and gripped the back of my neck, giving me a shake as if to say, “Fuck yeah, Halo.” Not that it had been all me doing the work by any means, but all of us together?

  Magic.

  Thirty

  Viper

  I WASN’T SURE when Killian and I had appointed ourselves Halo’s personal bodyguards, but as we walked into Gellar’s office, the two of us had taken up position on either side of him like soldiers going into battle.

  As longtime clients of MGA, we knew what it meant to be granted a meeting in this office—either something fucking momentous or something akin to battle—and with our most recent trips down here as a gauge, both Killian and I hadn’t been sure what direction it would go. It appeared, however, today was going the route of really fucking momentous.

  “So, Halo, Killian tells me you’re responsible for the new sound and direction of the band. What do you say to that?” Gellar said, zeroing in on the angel. I glanced at Halo to see him gripping his thighs—in an effort not to fidget, would be my guess.

  “Well, I,” Halo started, and then stopped and regrouped. “We all came up with the new sound—”

  “Aw, stop being so modest, Halo,” Jagger said, and when he peered around Slade’s broad frame to look in Halo’s direction, he added, “It was totally you. Own that shit.”

  Halo’s eyes widened a fraction, and when his cheeks reddened, I took pity on the guy and let my attention shift back to the man with the money. Marshall Gellar was watching Halo like he was an interesting new toy he’d just acquired and was still trying to figure out.

  But there was no way in hell Halo was about to tell Gellar that he’d single-handedly saved all our asses. Halo also wouldn’t tell him that he was a musical fucking genius—but I sure as shit had no problem saying so.

  “Halo is definitely the one responsible for the direction Fallen Angel has taken. He has more talent in his little finger than all of your other artists combined.” When I broke the silence, I felt Halo’s stare bore into the side of my head, but I refused to look his way. I also refused to shut up, because Gellar needed to understand that he had someone special sitting in his office right now. Someone he better not fuck with.

  “He not only sings and plays the piano like a fucking rock star, he can play any instrument you put in his hands. He writes, composes, and he looks like that.” I gestured with a thumb toward Halo. “And is humble to his very core. He’s going to make you millions, Gellar, and you know it.”

  Gellar’s eyes found mine as he leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers over his chest. “You certainly speak highly of him for someone who usually doesn’t give a shit either way.”

  That was true. The last few times I’d seen Gellar, I’d been less than charming, to say the least. We’d gone at it many times over in the past about music, lyrics…Trent, and I wasn’t about to let him bait me now. This was about the band, not my less-than-stellar personality.

  “He’s talented,” I said. “And if you’re looking for suggestions on which song to release next, then I’d go with ‘Dark Angel.’ It shows off Halo’s grittier side but is less in your face than—”

  “A case of blue balls?” Gellar said, and Halo coughed out a strangled laugh beside me. Killian, Jagger, and Slade were less discreet, laughing, cursing, and grinning like a bunch of morons.

  Gellar smirked. “That one had your name all over it.”

  I shrugged, not in the least bit sorry. “Happy to see you know me and my dick so well.”

  Halo’s head whipped my way, his mouth hanging open, as Gellar said, “You’re such a fucking reprobate. But here’s an idea: how about we talk about something other than Viper’s cock?”

  “Please,” Killian said, and I shot a finger his way.

  “Right,” Gellar said, and then sat forward to place his clasped hands on top of his desk. “Let’s get down to business. You five ready to go on tour when this bad boy hits?”

  “Fuck yes, we are,” Slade said, and Gellar nodded, his eyes running up and down the five of us who were all waiting with bated breath, as his attention finally landed on Killian. Gellar understood the hierarchy in the room.

  “If ‘Dark Angel’ hits as well—”

  “When it hits as well,” I said, and Gellar’s eyes flicked to me for a second. He nodded before turning back to Killian.

  “Right. When it hits as well as ‘Invitation,’ we’re going to go ahead
and give you five lucky fuckers the green light for a stadium tour. What have you got to say about that?” As Gellar let his words sink in, he sat back in his chair and a smug smile curled his lips. Then he delivered the icing on the already fucking amazing cake: “And if Corruption hits the way ‘Invitation’’s numbers all seem to indicate it will, then we want this to be worldwide. It’ll be the biggest, most spectacular production the rock world has seen in years.”

  Holy fucking shit.

  When no one said anything, Gellar let out a booming laugh. “So this is all I need to say to get you guys to shut up?”

  That set them all off. Jagger was on his feet shaking Gellar’s hand, Slade was hell yeah-ing and fist-bumping the man behind the desk, and Killian was busy asking questions I couldn’t hear, because I was too busy trying to wrap my head around the fact that four months ago MGA had been close to kicking us out on our asses, and now they were talking worldwide tours. I mean, we’d all been fantasizing about it down in Miami, and thought that we might get a shot at a nationwide tour—but worldwide stadiums?

  Holy.

  Fucking.

  Shit.

  I glanced at Halo, the only other person who hadn’t moved, to see he was looking at me with shock stamped all across his face, but his eyes were lit with pure excitement.

  I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to grab the back of his neck, haul him in, and kiss him. I wanted to share this perfect moment with him by sharing my own pent-up feelings of relief, excitement, and total respect I had for him for getting us to this spot today. But I couldn’t do any of that, so instead I winked at him, and Halo grinned even wider as he got to his feet to shake Gellar’s hand.

  When I went to do the same and we were all standing gathered around Gellar’s desk, he took my hand and said, “Remember, this is all contingent on whether this album, and Halo, are as good as you all think they are.”

  I tightened my fingers around his and leaned over a little and said, with no hesitation whatsoever, “He’s even better, and you know it. Otherwise you’d never have signed off on this in the first place.”

  When I let go of Gellar’s hand, he looked at all of us, and I added, “Drop ‘Dark Angel’ next. If that shit doesn’t top ‘Invitation’’s numbers in the first week, I’ll shave my fucking head.”

  “I’ll hold you to that,” Gellar said, and I shrugged.

  Jagger’s mouth fell open. “Shut the hell up,” he said, as Slade muttered, “You crazy-ass motherfucker.”

  And when Killian said, “You wouldn’t,” I looked over at Halo, who was eyeing my hair as though he hated that idea, but I wasn’t worried.

  All of America was waiting for what this dark angel beside me was going to do next. My hair was going nowhere, but Fallen Angel? We were going on a worldwide tour, and I couldn’t fucking wait.

  Thirty-One

  Halo

  IT’D BEEN A chaotic month. “Dark Angel” had dropped, edging out “Invitation”’s sales by a number that blew my mind, the stadium tour was officially greenlit, and, best of all, Viper had gotten to keep his hair. Thank God.

  I turned my head on Viper’s pillow to look out his floor-to-ceiling windows at the Manhattan skyline. It may have been after midnight, but lights twinkled across the city like stars, countless others as awake as I was. Beside me, Viper slept soundly on his stomach, his face angled toward mine and his arm draped over my waist. More often than not lately, I found myself staying over, not leaving until well after dawn, because if I was gone when Viper woke up, all hell broke loose. I’d already seen what happened when I snuck out in Miami after our first night together, and I wouldn’t be repeating that mistake anytime soon.

  Those were all good excuses, because it wasn’t like I wanted to leave. Sure, his place was a helluva lot more comfortable than mine, but I’d feel the same even if our situations were reversed.

  I looked down at the arm he had lying across me and covered it with mine, gently so I wouldn’t wake him up. It was this small move Viper made in his sleep, as well as a hundred other little actions I don’t think he even realized he did, that told me this thing between us had veered into complicated territory. When we’d been in Miami, I worried that we wouldn’t be able to continue the casual hookups once we were back in New York, but now that we were here, I worried that neither of us would come out of this thing unscathed.

  Viper stirred, his arm tightening around my waist before he stilled again, and as I looked at his face, my stomach flipped. Somehow along the way, and I couldn’t even pinpoint when, my guard had dropped and I’d fallen for him. I couldn’t even deny that truth to myself anymore, though I’d deny it to anyone else who asked—especially to Viper.

  I rubbed my eyes with my free hand, wondering how the hell I was supposed to navigate this now. We’d both been on the same page, agreeing to the same terms about our non-relationship, and here I’d gone, doing something as stupid as falling for Viper. If he knew what I was thinking, I doubt he would’ve minded me running out on him at two a.m.

  Dropping my hand, I let my eyes roam over his face. I wanted to reach out and trail my fingers along the stubble that lined his jaw, but if I did that, I’d keep going, down his neck, across his chest, over his abs, and farther down…

  My stomach let out a growl of hunger, and I realized we hadn’t actually managed to eat the dinner we’d ordered. Viper had shoved the pizza in the fridge before dragging me into his bed, and that was the start of a marathon fucking that had lasted until about an hour ago. It hadn’t taken Viper long to fall asleep, but I’d stayed wide awake, my mind unable to shut the hell up.

  When my stomach growled again, louder this time, I slowly moved out from beneath Viper’s arm, sliding out of the bed without waking him up. I quietly stepped into a pair of jeans and slipped out the door, heading toward the kitchen.

  I made my way across the hardwood floors, grabbed a glass from one of the overhead cabinets, and then opened the fridge. I reached inside for the pizza box and put it on the counter before turning back for the Parmesan cheese, and then I reached for the bottle of Coke on the side door. Once I had everything I needed, I turned around to hunt down some napkins but startled when I found Viper leaning up against his kitchen counter watching me. With his arms crossed and jeans hanging low on his hips, it was close to impossible not to say screw the food and just go to him. Viper was so effortlessly sexy—even standing in his kitchen having just climbed out of bed, he oozed more sex appeal than someone who’d spent a good hour trying to look hot.

  “You scared the hell out of me,” I said as Viper pushed away from the counter and walked toward me, his eyes taking a tour of all that I’d left bare. With the fridge still open behind me, it lit the kitchen area up enough that I could see the hunger in his dark eyes, but whether it was for me or the food we hadn’t eaten earlier, I had no clue.

  “Did I?”

  I chuckled as he took the Coke and cheese out of my hands and put them on the counter, and when he turned back to me and walked forward, trapping me between himself and the open fridge, I had my answer.

  That hunger, the craving I could see in his eyes? It was all for me.

  “You gonna let me shut the fridge?” I asked as Viper held my chin in place, then he leaned in and flicked his tongue across the corner of my mouth.

  “Not yet,” he said as he nipped at my lower lip. “I like the way the light makes your skin look…like gold.”

  I groaned and reached for Viper’s hips as he trailed his fingers down my throat, and then he slid his palm around under my hair to grip the back of my neck. As he kissed his way along my jaw and slid his fingers into my hair, I tugged on the loops of his jeans and ground my stiffening cock against him.

  Viper growled and pressed his lips to the soft skin behind my ear, his warm breath in direct contrast to the cool air of the fridge behind me.

  “Why can’t I get enough of you?” he said by my ear, and I wasn’t sure if he wanted an answer or was voicing the question I kept aski
ng myself. Why was I so drawn to him? How was it that I’d allowed myself to become so involved in what we were doing with each other that I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to be free?

  Instead of answering, I turned my head and captured his mouth, knowing that that was the answer Viper would prefer over the crazy notions running through my head, and he was right there to tangle his tongue with mine.

  “Viper…” I said as I ran one of my hands up his back and took a step toward him, molding my body to his as I walked him back to the counter. I didn’t let go of him, or bother stopping to shut the fridge. I moved directly between his legs and took his face between my hands, as I dove in and took a long, deep taste of him.

  Viper opened to me in an instant, moving his hands to my ass as he rocked forward, and I moaned in response, and it was times like this—when he was obliterating any common sense I possessed—that I felt a slight tinge of desperation creep in.

  I had no idea how long I had to enjoy what was happening between us, and whenever I thought about it being over, I found myself wanting to hold on to him tighter, to kiss him harder, to mark him in some way as mine, so he’d be just as affected if he decided to walk away.

  I sucked on his bottom lip, making that rumbling purr escape his throat, and when Viper’s head fell back, I took full advantage, lowering my head and licking a path across his throat.

  “Angel…fuck. You’re killin’ me here,” Viper said as I ran my hands down to his open jeans.

  “Hmm. Not my fault.” I slipped my hand down into the denim and wrapped my fingers around his throbbing cock. “I was going to get something to eat, and then you came out here and interrupted me.”

  As I swiped my thumb over his Prince Albert, Viper cursed and shut his eyes. “I woke up and you were—”