Page 58 of Made for Cyn

I just process it all for a few minutes, taking deep breaths through the pain and allowing their conversation to proceed, although I don’t catch enough to create complete sentences. After everything that has happened today, I’m drained, and the small kernel of hope I held because of Cyn’s actions has died a fiery death in the wake of his motives.

I’m so fucking stupid.

I need to be anywhere but here, and screwing a bland look onto my face, I cross the threshold once more.

I need to break this off regardless of Cyn’s motivations because I have bigger issues, and Cyn isn’t one of them. This doesn’t erase the sour taste on my tongue, but it does give me the resolve to pretend my heart doesn’t hurt and that Cynster fucking Callahan didn’t make it so.

“Hey,” Cyn says when I enter, looking me over carefully. I smile blandly and his eyes crinkle with confusion, no doubt at my tepid greeting.

“I should go before my aunt and uncle start to worry.”

Nodding slowly, he searches my eyes before his mouth curls grimly, and he steps forward to tip my chin back. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” I mutter, turning my head away.

“Rain,” he says in warning, and I huff.

“I’m fine. My uterus hurts. I’m tired. It’s nothing,” I insist in a bitchy tone.

He drops his hand and steps back with a cool expression. “Fine.”

“Fine,” I snarl, avoiding his gaze and the fucking ache in my chest.

I’m spurning him after he laid with me and was so sweet, and I feel perfectly horrible about it, but what am I supposed to do? This is all so fucked up.

“Since you’re here, we need to have a little chat about Saul,” Cyn mutters, and I cast my eyes to the ceiling.

Why god? Why today?

“Why?” I ask softly, glancing at Jig, who’s looking between us with a frown.

“Rain,” Cyn says, his brows dropping over his eyes.

“What is this really about, Cyn? Me or her?” I demand, forgetting all about my resolve to fucking pretend my heart isn’t stone cold in my chest.

“Her who? Iris? I don’t fucking care about her,” he says rudely.

Turning my head away, I stare blindly at the wall. “That’s really nice. Whatever. There’s nothing to say.”

“Yes, there is. Why were you there?”

“I told you. So that Iris could be with Saul.”

“Iris? Or you? Were you searching for dick? Did he touch you?” Cyn asks, and I gasp.

“What? You’re crazy!”

With stern eyes, he steps into me. “Hardly.”

“Cyn,” Jig says behind us, but we’re caught in our stare-off.

“Rain,” Cyn growls, raising his brows in expectation.

“Why?” I ask softly, and I know it’s stupid, but I can’t resist baiting him when he’s been nothing but a whore since I met him.

“Why? Because I’m going to kill the fucker,” he says.

Wide eyed, I stare because the threat flowed off his tongue like silk. Who the fuck is he?

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