Page 32 of Toxic Kiss

“Please…we both know that you’ve been hot for Cyrus for years. I’m warning you, Haven, if you ever go near him again…I’ll ruin you.”

Anita marches off, and I spot Cyrus leaning against the wall, looking smug.

“You want to come play some more?”

“You’re such an asshole,” I growl and walk away as he laughs.

Cyrus Vale is an enigma I never learned how to ignore. An unanswered question I keep revisiting, hoping the ending might change. I hate that part of me still wants to solve him, even when I know he’s the thing that breaks me.

I dig my nails into my palms until the sting steadies me.

“Keep it together,” I whisper. “You already survived the worst. You can do this.”

But I don’t believe it. Not fully. Not when part of me wants to storm back in there and finish what he started.

My phone buzzes.

Charles.

Of course. The universe always knows when to twist the knife.

Charles: Just listened to your voicemail now. Long day. Sorry, I missed the Malone show. Hope the job’s not too intense. Try not to take everything the band does personally. I’ll call in a couple days.

That’s it? No, I miss you. No, I love you. Just emotional beige.

I stare at the screen, a heavy ache blooming in my chest. Shoving the phone into my back pocket, I stand straighter.

Let Cyrus burn. Let Charles stew. I’m not here for either of them.

I’m here to prove I can survive the chaos and walk out with my head held high and a job well done. This is nothing but a step to where I want to be. Nothing more, nothing less, and in this business, I’ll have to deal with assholes like Cyrus all the time.

If that means I walk through hell, so be it. Pushing away from the wall, I follow the corridor toward the exit doors. There is a concert tonight, and I need to prep. Day one, officially on the job, and I know exactly what to do first.

chapter

eleven

“Some people write love songs. Others bleed them.” – Cyrus

CYRUS

The roar of the crowd is a fucking drug. It slides down my spine and settles in my bloodstream. Lights scorch my skin, and the bass rattles my bones. Sweat drips down the back of my neck and off my jaw. For a few precious minutes, I’m not broken. I’m not sick. I’m not haunted.

I’m alive.

Every lyric is a vein splitting open. Every note bleeds not just for the crowd, but for her…Haven. So fitting that the song I’m finishing the show with is one I wrote about her, My Devastation.

Kiss me with your lies,

and I’ll swallow every sin.

Touch me like you mean it,

and I’ll cut myself open and let the light dim.

The crowd howls like wolves. The floor vibrates under my boots, and I can feel the power surge through me like I’m plugged into a socket as I belt out the chorus. The music softens, the drums and bass like an intimate kiss as I sing the next verse.

We were a car crash,