Page 11 of Toxic Kiss

Ledger crosses the room, beer swinging from his fingertips, cheeks flushed from booze and the high of the concert. He grins and slaps my shoulder.

“You were fire tonight,” he says.

“I try,” I mutter, forcing a smirk.

“You staying here or on the bus?”

“Haven’t decided yet.” I should go to the bus and leave all this shit behind, but I never do what I’m supposed to do.

“How late are you staying?”

I shrug, noncommittal.

“Hit me up if you’re leaving, I’d rather sleep on the bus.”

“Will do,” I say.

He drifts off.

I scan the crowd. Eren leans into an influencer with teeth too white to be real, smiling so wide she’s Joker-level creepy. Ash disappeared with a tattooed girl in fishnets about ten minutes ago. Vex is outside on the balcony, chain-smoking and glaring at the city like he wants to punch it.

The DJ drops a remix of one of our old songs. A track we used to scream in Patrick’s garage before the money, the labels, and the contracts that read like death threats. I barely recognize the song now. The crowd loses its mind anyway.

I down my drink. Let the numbness settle deeper. I really shouldn’t be drinking with my meds. I know it, but the shaking is worse tonight, and so is the pain that no one can name. It’s the only combo that stills both for a time.

“Hey, rock god.”

I turn my head and find the source of the voice. A blonde in a tight black dress and legs for days. Familiar, probably from the meet-and-greet earlier. Her pupils are large from either alcohol or party drugs. Her skin is shimmering with too much bronzer, and the way she is leaning over to talk gives me a view straight down her dress—on purpose, of course.

She bites her lip and steps between my knees as close as the couch allows, hands sliding onto my thighs.

“You look like you could use a distraction,” she purrs.

I smile at her…the Cyrus Vale—frontman of Venomous—smile. Menace and promise braided into sex.

“Yeah. You offering?” I trace my finger down her arm. She wiggles until she squeals and falls onto her knees. Her mouth is now in perfect alignment with my cock. I know it’s on purpose. She isn’t the first and won’t be the last to use this maneuver. She moves closer until her tits are practically in my lap.

“Only if you’re not too tired from the rigorous workout on stage.” Her fingers inch higher and are now almost touching my zipper.

I’m exhausted. All I want is to sleep for an entire day. But that’s not a Cyrus Vale answer. That isn’t what the world expects. I laugh, and it comes out dry and emotionless.

“Sweetheart, I’ve been tired since the day I was born.”

She giggles as if I told the best joke. Of course, she doesn’t get it. No one does. Her fingers slide higher, over my abs.

I let my head fall back, and I stare at the chandelier overhead. It’s sparkling with tiny shards of broken promises. I blink and take a breath that doesn’t reach my lungs.

Someone lights a blunt. The scent wraps around me and making it harder to breathe. I need out. Swinging my leg over her head, I stand and brush her hands away with a soft pat on her head.

“Where are you going?”

“Need ten minutes,” I say. “Take a load off.”

I move through the room, nodding at Eren as I pass. He raises his glass in silent salute. The bass thumps beneath my boots as I cut through the crowd, heading for the bathroom. The door clicks shut behind me.

Hands braced on the marble sink, I stare into the mirror. My reflection looks like someone I no longer know. Makeup is smeared along my collarbone. There is lipstick on my jaw. Smudged eyeliner frames eyes that haven’t known real sleep in days.

It’s as if I’ve been ravaged by vampires in a goth bar. And I fucking hate it.