Page 2 of Forged in Rain

Turning before the mirror, I admire my reflection. Maybe he was using me for sex, and if that’s the case, I’m not above showing Cyn what he’s missing.

“Eat your heart out, buttfucker,” I murmur before shaking my head.

At 9:30, I leave the house with a sour feeling in the pit of my stomach. Pam is presumably in her room, and with a gentle pulse of guilt, I recall her haggard expression this morning when I went down for a glass of water. She’s worried about John, and even though she’s better off without the scum-sucking weasel, she doesn’t know it.

Stepping through the slushy snow grimly, I laugh at my vain attempts to make Cyn hurt when my boot slips in the ice before righting myself with a fatalistic shrug.

Thoughts of Pam’s pain remind me that John threatened me with possible pictures incriminating her in his skeevy actions, and even though he’s presumably gone for good, I need to find them if I can and dispose of the evidence. I have zero desire for anyone to see what he might have captured and although I know Pam wasn’t involved, it’s still a motive for murder, should his body ever be found—assuming the fucker is dead.

Shuddering with the thought, I glance up when I reach the bridge. Cyn and his fancy SUV are already waiting for me in the grassy stretch beside the abandoned bridge where students like to gather.

This was not part of my plan, walking up by myself, but when has anything ever gone my way?

He’s leaning against the vehicle, all sexy-like, and thankfully, it’s far enough away he can’t see my shiver because he may be a heartless jerk, but he’s fuck hot, and I can’t help the way my body liquefies. Once upon a time, he made me sing with pleasure, and my body remembers every painfully sweet deed.

He’s my first, and it was more than I ever thought it could be. Too bad he ruined it by being an icy cold bastard. Well, no more. I can’t separate sex from feelings, and he doesn’t know how to feel at all.

“Change of plans?” Cyn says with a smirk.

Shrugging, I put my trembling hands in my pockets. I’d be lying if I said it was only due to the cold because Cyn’s my addiction even after everything between us. I still want him to pull me close, and the proximity is eating away at what little calm I’m managing to portray.

Standing with an inscrutable expression, he opens the door, and I stare between it and him until he frowns. “Get in.”

“Where are we going?”

“Wherever the fuck I want,” he barks, and my chin dips.

I’m not his little minion, and he better figure that out real quick, or he’s in for a lifetime of disappointment.

“No. Tell me what’s going on.” I raise my chin in the face of his anger, and if his thunderous expression is anything to go by, he’s seething with it.

A trickle of caution slides down my spine because although I’ve never truly been physically afraid in his presence, I also don’t know what he’s capable of, and I’ve been warned too many times not to take heed.

Stepping up to me, he grabs my arm and leans into my face, his bright green eyes glittering. “I’d like to fucking leave you here and never see your lying face again, but we’re stuck with each other, baby. Until Jagger comes to his senses or Iris fucking stops with her games. Now get in the car.”

Ignoring the goosebumps rising on my skin because his lips are so close to mine I can feel his breath, I pull away from him roughly and slide casually into the SUV, my heart pumping wildly in my chest.

Cyn hates me, and maybe I deserve it for lying, but he doesn’t care that I was trying to save myself. Although I regret what I did, I don’t regret the plan. I was desperate and alone, and he was treating me like a fuck toy. What the hell did he expect me to do?

In the driver’s seat, Bastion completely ignores me and Jig gives me an icy smile, his normally infectious grin absent.

Cyn slides in beside me, and we pull away. Staring out the window, I clench my hands in my lap. The tension is so thick, I can practically breathe it in, but I don’t want to move, even if the urge is overwhelming, because I’d give myself away.

If I’ve learned anything in the past few months, it’s to not show weakness. I’m stuck with him? Great, this is going to be fun.

After a short jaunt, we pull into Jig’s drive, where his stately home is lit up in a soft glow.

Jig, despite his blue mohawk, multiple piercings, and tough-guy demeanor, clearly comes from money. Although I’ve never met his parents, during the one time he spoke of them, he implied quite grimly that they’re directly responsible for his bad behavior.

And to be clear, Jig has no boundaries, so I’m guessing his parents are no picnic.

Quietly I follow Jig inside as Bastion and Cyn follow, trailing into a large media room with huge comfy couches facing a giant-sized television.

Jig heads straight for the bar and pours himself a drink, his shoulders tight, and Bastion leans against the wall inside the door. I already feel backed into a corner, so I spin to find Cyn looking me over. With a silent sigh, I brace myself for whatever is coming my way.

I vowed not to crumble again and instead raise a brow.

Cyn’s mouth twitches before he growls, “I want to know everything from the start. Don’t leave anything out.”

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