Chapter One

Declan

" J esus Christ," I growl as Penelope Draco, drummer for our band, the Vengeful Saints, throws her long blonde hair over her shoulder and rises from behind her drum set to dance with Saint Greenway, shaking her hips in a tight leather skirt. The damn thing molds to her curvy body, showing off her round ass and sexy thighs.

It looks incredible on her.

It'd look even better on my bedroom floor.

But let's be honest…that isn't ever going to happen. I've been in love with Pen since she joined the band five years ago. Our chemistry is undeniable—everyone has seen it. But to her, I've always just been Declan Riser, her badass best friend. That's all I'll ever be to her.

I still follow her around like a lost puppy. Everywhere she goes, I'm right beside her. But she doesn't notice. She thinks I'm just being a good friend and that I'm protective. And I'm so fucking in love with her, I'll take it.

Frankly, I'd rather have one piece of her heart than none of it at all.

Best friend is a whole helluva lot better than guy she used to know .

"Shake it, Pen!" Jace calls, making her throw her head back and laugh.

The breathless sound rolls over me, making my cock throb. I swear to Christ, that laugh haunts my dreams. Her smile is ingrained in my psyche. Every fucking thing about her plays on repeat in my head like a song. I know every line, every verse, every note. And I love every single one. There isn't a damn thing about her that doesn't make my heart race or light me up. She's perfect from her blonde head to her always-cold toes.

The day she decides to enter the dating pool is the day my goddamn world ends. I'm not sure how I'm supposed to survive losing my little rebel to another man.

Thank God I haven't had to find out yet.

She writes these incredible fucking love songs, but she always swears there's no one inspiring them. Part of me is afraid she's lying about that. The other part is glad as hell our lives haven't been conducive to dating for the last five years.

I realize how fucked up it is to be grateful that our lives have been a nightmare for so long…but part of me is grateful anyway. We shot to stardom fast and were so focused on the music that we didn't have time for much else. Dating wasn't an option when we were rushing from show to show and city to city every goddamn night.

And then things with Saint went sideways. He was always a wild card, always trying to prove something to the world and be who he thought they wanted him to be. But after he flipped his car and nearly killed his sister two years ago, things got dark. He and his brother mostly stopped talking. He started avoiding his family out of guilt. His reputation took a hit—and so did ours.

For a while, the whole fucking world hated him. And because they hated him, they hated us, too.

The regret was the worst part for him. He felt like he destroyed his sister's life, his own…and all of ours. We've spent a lot of the last two years just trying to keep him from spiraling. We've kept our heads down and tried like hell not to make waves. The last fucking thing he needed was any of us adding to the shitstorm already pelting him.

What happened nearly destroyed him. He was lost for a long fucking time, barely making it through every day. But he's finally in a good place. He and his brother have mended fences. His sister is doing great. His wife, Everleigh, keeps him grounded. And we're on top of the world again.

It's different this time, though. I think we're all just done with fame and all the bullshit that comes with it. Once, we would have given up everything for it. And then we realized just how high the price could be.

It's not fucking worth it in the end.

I would have walked away a long time ago, but I stayed for Pen. I go where she goes. And I'm fucking glad I stayed. Because this version of Vengeful Saints? This is what we always should have been. There's no drama, no bullshit. It's finally just about us and the music.

But I don't know how much longer I can survive being her best friend when the only thing I really want is her in my arms, where she belongs.

Saint holds his microphone out to her. She leans down and belts the lyrics of Pretty Little Thing into it, shimmying her hips. At the bridge, she drops back down into her seat and launches into her drum solo, her green eyes shining. Her sticks go spinning as she rocks out as if this were a concert and not a simple rehearsal. There is no marking with Pen. She gives one hundred percent every single time.

It's sexy as hell.

I watch her, my dick hard and aching. Just once, I want to know what it's like to get lost in her. Would she be as passionate in my bed as she is on stage? Shit. Do I even need to ask? Of course, she would. She throws her whole heart and soul into everything she does.

Saint catches my eye, lifting one brow as if to ask why the fuck I haven't married her yet. It's an excellent question. One I've been asking myself daily for the last five years. The answer remains the same. She's far too good for a motherfucker like me… and after everything we've been through, the one thing in this world I'm not willing to lose is her.

I won't survive it. I fucking can't. She is my world—the whole goddamn thing. Every single thing I do revolves around her. We go where she wants to go. We eat what she wants to eat. I'm only satisfied when she's happy. And God help anyone who even thinks about making her cry or putting their fucking hands on her.

She may not know it, but she's mine in every way that counts.

As soon as we finish the song, I hop off stage, heading for the bathroom. If I don't take care of the situation in my pants, I'm not going to survive the rest of the rehearsal. Not with her in that damn skirt.

I swear to Christ, she has no concept of just how gorgeous she is. She complains about how her clothes fit as if they're doing something wrong, but from where I'm sitting, every item in her closet fits her all too well. She tortures me in those skirts and has no clue she's even doing it.

"Where are you going?" Jace shouts.

"Bathroom!" I yell back, not even turning around.

As soon as the door closes behind me, I've got my dick in my hand and her image in my mind. I imagine her spread out beneath me, laughing up at me, all sunshine and fucking hearts in her eyes, crooning my name. My hand flies over my erection, my thumb swirling precum around the tip.

"Fuck," I groan, dropping my head back against the door as Imaginary Pen wraps her lips around me, taking me deep. My fist flies up and down my shaft in rough pulls.

She hums, those gorgeous eyes locked on my face…and I lose it. I growl her name, ropes of cum spilling into my hand and splashing onto the floor at my feet.

"Pen," I groan, working out every last drop. "Fuck, Rebel. What are you doing to me?"

"Declan?" She taps on the door behind me. "You okay in there?"

My heart slams against my ribcage, another rope spilling across my fingers as her sweet voice floats through the door.

"Fine," I gasp. "I'm fine, Rebel."

"You sure? You ran off stage awful fast."

"I'm fine. I'll be out in a minute!"

She hesitates for a long moment and then sighs. "Okay."

I grip myself again, my cock still hard and throbbing, as I slide my fist up and down my shaft, her voice still ringing in my ears.

Jesus. One way or another, I have to figure out how to make her mine. There is no other option.