Page 28 of Toxic Kiss

“Some wounds never scab over…they just burn deeper.” – Haven

CYRUS

Haven brushes past me like I’m nothing. Like, she hasn’t just torched me in front of everyone or killed our rehearsal by snapping the only thread holding this tour together.

My hand moves before I can think about it. I grip Haven’s wrist hard enough to stop her. She freezes and then turns. Her glare cuts straight through me. Fuck, I’ve missed this look. A whole minute of her here, and all the reasons why I hate her and want her so fucking badly flood back. The noise behind us fades to static. It’s just me and Haven, like it’s supposed to be.

“You don’t get to walk in here, drop a verbal nuke, and pretend I don’t exist.”

“I can do whatever I want. Now let go.” Her voice is deadly calm, sharpened by our toxicity and darker things. The rage in her eyes ignites every cell of my body.

“Say please.”

She jerks her arm, and I pull her right back in—harder this time, so she collides with me. For a split second, everything turns upside down. Her hand lands over my heart to push me away. I catch that one, too. Trap it against my chest and lose myself in the green of her eyes. Her skin is soft and tingles under my fingers. My pulse hammers, heart wild, and for the first time in years, I feel…alive. Like she is reaching into my grave, the coffin I’ve been locked in and is pulling me out of the dirt that’s been keeping me trapped and unable to breathe.

I step forward. Haven steps back. It’s a dance that we are so used to doing that it is our own personal waltz. One step. Two steps. Three steps, four. Again and again, until we’re half-hidden behind the heavy velvet curtains, away from prying eyes.

“What the hell are you doing?” She growls at me, sending shivers down my spine.

Haven’s back hits the wall with a soft thud. I plant my palms beside her head, boxing her in.

“Putting you in a timeout.”

The words sound like a joke, but my mind’s already somewhere darker…less clothes, more noise, her screaming my name. Fuck. It’s been so long since anything felt this real.

Her fury could peel paint, and it just makes me grin. She’s radiant like this, with anger and sharp edges. What will she do if I kiss her? Push her harder? Let her see exactly how close to the brink I am.

“You want me to be polite? Try not being a jackass in front of millions of people on live television by calling me a bitch or a leech in lip gloss. Then again, I shouldn’t be surprised. It has always been your MO to make me the scapegoat for all your crap.”

So, she saw the clip. Of course, she has.

“Careful, Gaillard,” I murmur. “You’re acting like you still care what I think.”

She leans in.

“I care about the tour. About salvaging what’s left of the band’s career. And I care about you not making an idiot out of my father’s company despite your obsession with self-sabotage. Don’t flatter yourself—I don’t give a damn about your opinion. I’m just the one thing you never learned how to destroy.”

Haven’s voice flays me alive, and yet like a moth to a flame, I step closer to my destruction. Her body stiffens, but she doesn’t move away. Her chin lifts, mouth parting, just enough to tempt me to do what I shouldn’t and kiss her. I can still taste her lips. One night, and here I am five years later. I still know the flavor of her lust, how her body molds to mine, and how it feels to hold her.

“You really think I haven’t destroyed you?” I whisper, and she shivers. I see it. Feel it.

The air between us sparks and burns.

“If I was breakable, you would’ve left me as ash years ago,” she says.

Anger…so much anger, but underneath it, there’s pain, the kind that sticks under your ribs and never leaves. But she was the one who left, not the other way around.

Her words still hit hard because she’s right. I tore her apart, one cruel word at a time. I lived off seeing the pain in her eyes, the unshed tears, and making her feel as shitty as I did. This is the only language we’ve ever spoken. Fury. Claws. Desire disguised as an all-out war.

My fists clench on either side of her head. Haven doesn’t flinch or blink. Her obstinacy only glows brighter and dares me closer.

I lean in and sniff her hair. The same blueberry smell that haunts my sheets now fills my senses. I breathe it in like I’m starving for oxygen.

“You still smell like spring rain, blueberry pie, and defiance.”

The words are reckless, touching her is pure stupidity, and yet I don’t move away.

Haven laughs.