Page 56 of Made for Cyn

Rand chuckles. “Or maybe she just likes it rough. Did Cyn give you what you need?”

Gritting my teeth, I slowly rise, marching over to my sweatshirt in the grass as Jig slows behind me, and from the corner of my eyes, I see him make a beeline in my direction.

Truthfully, I’m in so much pain I can barely stand as my stomach clenches and contracts brutally, a state I find myself in every few periods.

If I were at home, I’d be in bed with a heating pad, hating my life, but I can’t go home. I refuse to, so I’m going to have to gut it out, even if I’m not sure how I’m going to make it to the locker room, much less my next class.

Grabbing my arm, Jig swings me around. “What’s going on?”

I’m smarting over his comments, enraged at the thought Cyn told others about our interlude and frankly hurt, but I guess I really am just a piece of ass to him.

Wrenching from his grip, I say with tears stinging my eyes, “Let go of me.”

“Rain—”

“No! Don’t worry, dickhead! It’s just my period cramps,” I sneer, walking away before he can respond.

I don’t care about getting a damn zero for the day and I head for the locker room, escaping inside. Wearily, I lean against my locker, and sniffle, wiping my nose tiredly before grabbing my clothes and locking myself in a stall.

???

I’m sitting in the next period, History, gazing blindly at the board as I ride the pain in utter misery when the door bursts open and Cyn appears with a feral look on his face. Sinking in my seat, I hope to hell he’s not here for me, but my hopes are dashed when his emerald gaze searches the crowd before stopping on me.

“Mr. Callahan, can I help you?” Mrs. Long exclaims, but Cyn ignores her and heads straight toward me.

Jig appears behind him and I look away from the traitor, considering grabbing onto my desk and refusing to leave, but that will only end in humiliation and, frankly, more pain. So, as Cyn approaches, I grab my bag and stand, although it’s more of a hunch as another cramp tugs viciously at my body.

Cyn’s eyes tighten and he holds out his hand. Mrs. Long chirps from the front, but he pulls me along and bypasses her as Jig steps forward and hands her a slip of paper. I presume it’s a hall pass because she doesn’t stop me when I step out the door.

If I had the presence of mind to wonder about anything, I’d be asking about how they got a pass for me, but I’m in no position to speak or move.

Cyn drags me behind him, and uselessly, I glance around before giving in because if Cyn wants it to happen, it’s going to—I mean, my asshole teacher just stood there useless.

Once we’re by the car, Cyn pushes me in the backseat, and I can’t suppress the cry of anguish because even if I feel like I’m dying, I still have the damn welts on my ass and back to add to my complete torture.

“Move over,” Cyn says gruffly. I comply, inching away with a whimper only to glance up in surprise when he pulls me gently onto his lap.

Bastion and Jig join us in the front seats, and as soon as we pull out, I drop my head to Cyn’s shoulder and grit my teeth against the pain. My uterus rolls with back to back cramps that burn in harmony with the welts that ache with every movement I can’t contain. When the pulsing finally becomes too much, tears appear, and helplessly I can’t hold them back, sniffling pathetically when Cyn brushes my hair behind my ear and tips my chin.

His eyes soften and he pulls me tighter into his arms, cradling me close as I cry.

The cocoon of his embrace feels lovely, but nothing can stop the roiling pain, and when another surge of nausea blooms, I push against Cyn’s shoulders and gasp, “Stop the car.”

Thankfully, Bastion hears me and senses the urgency because he pulls over just in time for me to wrench the door open and hurl out the side. Cyn holds me around the waist while I gag and spit helplessly before pulling me back in and closing the door with a frown.

For the remainder of the ride, I exist in a haze of misery until finally, we arrive at Cyn’s house, where he took my virginity just two nights ago. He carries me inside, and I get a good view of the rundown home with faded fabrics, old-style lamps, and antique-looking furniture before he walks through an equally old kitchen and into the backyard.

Bastion and Jig follow quietly and we approach the detached garage behind the house, where Bastion steps up and unlocks the deadbolt on the door. Once inside, it smells of grease and must, the old walls hairy with years of dirt and cobwebs.

An old sofa sits facing a flat-screen television with a game system and movies piled high beside it. In the corner is a full-sized refrigerator next to a sink and a microwave with chips, bottles of water, and other snacks.

Cyn sits down on the couch, carefully maneuvering me onto his lap, but I can’t suppress the moan and lean against him once more. Fatigue is pulling me under and everything aches from my fucking uterus to the burns across my ass.

“Now,” Cyn says gruffly, running his hand down my back, “talk.”

Frowning, I stare at him mulishly because I’m pretty sure he does not want the particulars of my period issues, and I have zero desire to reveal my wounds.

“Rain,” Cyn says in a warning tone.

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