Sweat soaked Annette’s shirt as she stood under the stage lights, still gasping from the last long note she’d held until the audience went nuts. She bowed to the crowd, then jumped up to hug North. They’d put on an amazing show, feeding off the energy around them, hearing the words to their songs rising with a thousand voices, the bodies filling the hall slamming together as the music moved them.

Every performance on this tour had been amazing so far, but tonight was different.

They weren’t done.

North kissed her forehead, lowering her to her feet as the lights dimmed. “Hurry up and get changed. I’ll fix you a shot of whiskey and honey. Then you get back out here and kick Alder’s ass.”

Snickering, Annette ran with him side stage, thanking Orion as he handed her a bottle of water. She gulped it down, letting Kace propel her to the closest dressing room, where she’d left the outfit he and Tate had chosen for her to wear during the riff off.

Kace quickly untied her blood red corset, giving her a second to breathe before picking up the white lace skirted bustier, which laced up the front, but thankfully had a zipper up the back, so she wouldn’t be as constricted. She slipped her arms into the thick straps, holding still as Kace adjusted the thinner bands over the swell of her breasts.

She held her breath as he zipped her up, shivering as adrenalin pumped through her veins, as though she was preparing for an actual fight, rather than to vocally face-off against a singer she admired. Alder might not be the lead vocalist, but like her, he was more than a backup.

And they were going to hit that stage and show the world exactly what they were capable of.

Quinton stripped off his shirt, trading it for a sleek white T-shirt. Kicking off his jeans, he pulled on the pale blue ones Kace had brought for him.

Across the room, Orion finished changing into his own pale outfit, pulling his shaggy hair away from his face into a small, tight ponytail. His shirt was almost identical to Quinton’s, but his jeans were actually white from being washed so often. Ripped at the knees and ready to fall apart, but he’d worn them for their first performance and considered them lucky. Thankfully, they were the right color.

Kace fussed with her makeup, wiping her lipstick and eyeshadow off completely. He moved so she could take the shot North had fixed her, then redid her eyeshadow like an artist on speed. He handed her a silvery, nude shade of lipstick.

She glanced at the mirror, loving the dramatic black and silver wingtip he’d created. As he stripped, she put on her lipstick. He pulled on white skinny jeans and a white shirt, leaving it unbuttoned to show off the rich brown of his chest, all tight muscles and smooth skin. Leaning beside her at the mirror, he swept some silver highlighter on the high of his cheeks. Nodded at her in his reflection.

They were ready.

“Knock ‘em dead.” North called out as they returned to the stage, keeping out of sight as Brave handed Alder the mic and made his way toward them.

Lips slanting, he stepped aside and folded his arms over his chest. “Good luck.”

Deep breaths, Annette. You’ve got this. She smiled at him. “I won’t need it.”

“Maybe not, but don’t underestimate him.” Brave’s expression softened as Alder stepped up to the edge of the stage, dressed in black leather, his long hair bound at the nape of his neck. “I did, and it was the biggest mistake I ever made.”

Aww hell, he really wasn’t such a horrible person, was he. No one who loved their brother that much could be all bad.

She inclined her head seriously. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Then she grinned. “But I’m still going to wipe the floor with him!”

Brave chuckled, then gave his brother his full attention.

Annette reached out and took Quinton’s hand, squeezing his fingers.

“How are you tonight, Venice?” Alder shouted into the mic. The crowd cheered. “Buona guarigione!”

Confused murmurs filled the concert hall.

Balthazar moved from his position at the edge of the barrier, gesturing to Alder. Alder crouched, his face going red at whatever the bodyguard told him.

Straightening, Alder gave the crowd a sheepish grin. “Uh…I didn’t mean to say get well soon. But my Italian clearly sucks, so I won’t try that again.”

Laughter filled the hall, but the audience seemed charmed.

They quieted as he continued.

“So far this tour has been amazing, but we’ve got something special for you tonight. We might have teased a bit about it…” He trailed off as the crowd shouted eagerly. “I guess you heard?” The shouting grew louder. “Well, I’ve been challenged to a riff off. By the amazing Annette Paige of XVI Hours who just put on an incredible performance. Let’s show her some love!”

This was it. Annette released Quinton’s hand, but she couldn’t move. Performing with her own band was one thing, but they were taking the stage with Winter’s Wrath. What if people were pissed that she was sharing their spotlight? Could she handle them booing as she stepped on stage?

“Go on, Annette.” North stepped up behind her, rubbing her shoulders like a coach about to send his best fighter in the ring. “Don’t look at the crowd. Focus on Connor. Then on Balthazar. Forget everything else.”

She blinked at him. “You know?”

He grinned. “Connor’s obvious. Balthazar I wasn’t sure until I saw the scratches. I’m so fucking happy for you. They’ll treat you right.”

“They’d better.” Quinton put his hand on the small of her back and shoved her playfully. “Now go!”

Distracted by the exchange, Annette walked across the stage, hardly noticing the lights or the crowds. She took North’s advice and kept her eyes on Connor, who stood a few steps behind Alder. One look from him and she could breathe again. His smile steadied her, as if he’d reached across the distance to take her hand, telling her without words he believed in her. And if the worst happened, if the crowd booed her off the stage, he’d be there to dry her tears and remind her she was a fighter. She’d earned her place here and no one could ever take that away.

A roar sounded around her as she stopped by Alder’s side, rising as she faced the crowd.

They were throwing their fist up. Chanting one word. From her song.

“Walk! Walk! Walk!”

Alder held out the mic.

She stared at it. Inhaled, blinking back tears of relief.

Then she took the mic. “You guys are amazing!”

They cheered.

“Now, I hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to have to teach your boy Alder a lesson.” She smirked at Alder when he snorted. “He thinks he can out-sing me?”

Alder looked over to the side stage. Motioned to Tate, who grabbed another mic and sauntered over, all casual.

The crowd lost their minds, likely not expecting to see him tonight.

He stopped and flashed them a brilliant smile. “Miss me?”

“Tate! Tate! Tate!”

“Aww!” Tate placed his cast across his chest. “I love you too!” He waited for them to quiet down. “I’ll be judging the winner of this little contest. But I’m going to need some help. You don’t mind giving me a hand, do you? I can’t clap, so you’re gonna need to make a lot of noise!”

Clapping and stomping and screaming, the crowd assured him they would.

Alder took the mic back. “Just so you’re not confused, honey, I don’t think I can out-sing you. I know I can.”

“Is that so?” Annette let out a light laugh. “We’ll see about that.”

Alder turned to address the crowd. “While Tate’s on the mend, XVI Hours has been generous enough to lend us their drummer, Quinton Durand. So we’ll let him choose the song, and as a gentleman—” Alder put the mic to his chest and gave her a bow, holding his arm out for her to begin. “Ladies first.”

To keep things fair, Quinton hadn’t told her what song he’d chosen, but she immediately recognized the rhythmic click of her favorite song by Queen, Killer Queen.

She began the song smoothly, her tone playful, then added an edge as she reached the chorus, her voice rising as Orion and Kace joined her with their guitars. They’d played this song at least a hundred times just for fun, adding a metal flavor while staying true to the original.

Nodding his head to the music, Alder let her continue for two verses.

Then cut over her abruptly with the powerful opening line of Carry on Wayward Son, by Kansas. Quinton silenced the drums and the final note of the guitars trailed off.

Connor and Malakai began the familiar tune, Quinton accompanying them without missing a beat. The crowd had enjoyed her singing, but they were fully invested in Alder’s. Seeing as it was the theme song for the show, Supernatural, more people were familiar with it.

She’d have to be creative to beat this one.

With the long instrumental opening, she had more time, since she had to let Alder sing for a bit before cutting him off. Every song she knew went through her mind, but she had one she thought would work.

Except, she could only clue in her bandmates with her voice and this song didn’t usually start with vocals. She’d heard it done acapella by a choir once and the rendition had been powerful, but she had one voice, not twenty.

There was one part that was unique to Steven Tyler, but she’d never tried it before. That ‘Oooh Yeah’ might sound stupid, coming out of nowhere, unless she hit the chords just right.

What the hell. She brought the mic to her lips. Sang loud and clear. Then continued with Aerosmith’s, Dream On, fighting to keep her voice from shaking when a few beats passed without either Quinton or Kace making a sound.

They pulled through and she shot Alder a wicked grin as he folded his arms and stepped back. She got through most of the song, her confidence growing as the voices in the crowd joined hers.

But the second she took a breath Alder cut in, speaking Spanish in a sultry tone as he began La Isla Bonita by Madonna.

His seductive voice had women—and probably a few men—screaming his name as he moved to the edge of the stage, grinding his hips before bending down to touch a few outstretched hands. He knew how to play the audience, she’d give him that.

Time to wrap this thing up and see who won. She had one last card to play.

She might not be able to make the crowd cream their panties, but she could reach them in another way.

In memory of the Canadian legend, Leonard Cohen, she sang Hallelujah, pouring her heart and soul into the music, her eyes tearing as she remembered how her father had cried the day the singer died. She wasn’t sure how well people in Italy knew his music, but this song was timeless, used to express hope and loss, with the power to bring out so many emotions.

This was why she loved music so much. A song could reach across boundaries, pierce through the walls people built around themselves and make them feel the message. She smiled as Alder joined her at the edge of the stage, his voice joining hers in an intense harmony that brought many in the crowd to tears.

Phones were held up with lights on, so there seemed to be a sea of stars spread out before them.

Alder held out his hand as they finished the last note and they took a bow together to thunderous applause. Then he pulled her close, hugging her tight.

“That was amazing.” He smiled down at her, his eyes a little shiny. “I can’t speak for Brave, but I’m looking forward to writing a song together. With a voice like yours, XVI Hours is going to leave one hell of a mark on the music world.”

“I think we will too.”

Returning to the stage, Tate took the mic from Alder. He wiped his eyes, sniffling a little, then cleared his throat. “What can I say except…Wow!”

The audience shouted their agreement.

“I think…” Tate cocked his head, tapping a finger on his chin. “We’ve got ourselves a tie! Make some noise if you think Alder and Annette are fucking incredible!”

Whoops and screams and cheers filled the hall. Annette put her hand to her chest as her heart raced and her head spun. A hand touched her cheek and she gasped as Connor lifted her up, claiming her lips.

If she’d been dizzy before, Connor kissing her in front of a crowd of over three thousand people made the whole world spin like a tilt-a-whirl. She clung to him, wishing she could get him alone. But he had a show to finish.

Tate cleared his throat. “In other news, our boy Connor is in love.”

Connor laughed and reached out to give Tate a little shove. “Thanks for letting me say it first, asshole.”

Annette snickered, framing Connor’s face with her hands. “I should go. But just so you know…” She brushed her lips over his. “I love you, too.”