Page 8 of Made for Cyn

And then a thought comes unbidden. Did he just threaten me?

“Maybe, little beauty, this is a good thing, hmm?” he murmurs against my ear, nibbling on the lobe.

“Oh.” I’m entirely unable to form words and tremble in his arms. Meanwhile, all he’s doing is whispering in my ear.

“Maybe Bastion doesn’t need to sacrifice his time, although I’m pretty sure fucking your sweet cousin is no chore.”

“Hmm,” I hum when he licks my tendon before his statement penetrates my foggy brain.

Pulling my head away stiffly, I glare when he grips me tighter and says firmly, “You get me the information I want, and I won’t have to silence you.”

“Silence me?” I gasp.

“Yes, little beauty, you heard too much. And I can’t afford that, now, can I?” he says before biting into my skin once more.

My core spasms, my eyes rolling in my head at the delicious sensation and I collapse in his arms with a moan.

“Sweet,” he says, licking my neck in sweet strokes.

My brain scrambles, my entire focus on the wicked slide in my stomach. I can’t concentrate, and I’m pretty sure what he wants is essential information, so I turn my head away, ignoring the pang of disappointment when I do.

“What is it you want to know?” I ask, glancing around stupidly.

No one is around, and for all I know, Iris is off with Bastion again, where he’s apparently using her to get something, although what remains a mystery. What could Iris possibly know that Cyn would be interested in?

This is a question to pack away for later because I’m completely alone with him and hanging off him like a moron.

“Not here,” he says, pushing me away so quickly that I stumble.

“Then where?” Fighting off a shiver, I wrap my arms around my middle, and take another step to the side to give myself some damn breathing room.

What have I gotten myself into? And why am I drooling over a butt nugget? Have I lost my damn mind?

“You’re going to school with Iris, hmm?”

“Yes.”

“Then wait for my approach,” he says dismissively, turning away before I can respond, even though, to be clear, I’m speechless.

Staring after him, shocked and disgustingly achy with need, I stiffen when he stops but doesn’t look back, rumbling, “Oh, and beauty?”

“My name is Rain,” I mutter.

He chuckles but otherwise ignores me. “It goes without saying. You’ll tell no one, not even Iris.”

When I don’t answer, he doesn’t move, but he does tut low in his throat, and I swallow noisily when he demands, “Tell me you understand.”

“Yes,” I say, licking my lips. “I understand.”

Chapter Three

The first day of school is uneventful, at least for everyone else. For me, it’s like an adventure—the sights, smells, textures, and drama. I soak it up because, for me, this is all new.

Immediately, I’m assailed with high school mores I’ve never been a part of, including girls who square off and draw lines declaring war on those they’ve deemed the enemy, for what I don’t know.

Groups that speak to each other gather together, their clothes, postures, and expressions fascinatingly alike. The pretty girls in expensive clothes pair off with guys equally attractive and coiffed.

Kids with spiked or multicolored hair and dark clothes with piercings in multiple orifices stick together, while those who are smaller and more vulnerable hang at the fringes.

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