Page 62 of Forged in Rain

“Take your kicks, and you’ll get through this unscathed but for a few scars,” she says with a shrug. “Fight it, and it won’t be easy.”

“What does that even mean?” I demand, curling my hand tighter around the crutch. I may not be a violent sort of person, but I’d like to punch her in the face right about now.

“It means, take your punishment like a good little bitch and live,” she huffs impatiently.

“Why? Can you just tell me why?” I whisper.

Cocking her head to the side, she surveys me with dead eyes. “Because I got tired of being the fucking one. It’s someone else’s turn.”

Despite the rage curling through my system, I still feel a seed of pity. She’s a lost soul, and it’s a horrible sight to see. Her vibrancy is gone, and in its place, this bitter, sad fucking sack.

“Right, well, I’m not the one, whatever that means,” I say sourly, moving to step around her.

“You don’t know who you’re messing with,” she says softly.

“Then tell me.”

Shaking her head, she curls her lip. “This was never going to end well.”

“Who’s Cue, Iris?”

Her eyes flicker, and she glances away. I tap my crutch against the floor, bringing her head around, but she’s blank once more. “It doesn’t matter who Cue is.”

With that, she walks away, conveniently, just as Cyn appears, grabbing my arm and saying fiercely, “What was that about?”

Watching her go with a pulse of regret, I whisper, “A warning, I suppose.”

Once again, I’m caught in her games with no clue why or what the goal is. I might as well be playing flag football, except this is decidedly more deadly.

Cyn stares after her with a frown before leading me back to the table, where I sit in the seat beside him and lean my head in my hand, fighting back another headache.

He runs his hand down my back in a featherlight caress, and I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, noting his concerned frown before letting it go and sitting up straight.

I’m gearing up to say something monumental about life or some shit when a bitch settles herself in Cyn’s lap, and incredulously I stare as she grinds against him nastily.

To his credit, he glances at her with a frown, but I don’t fucking care. I see red. The chair screeches loudly as I stand, and all eyes turn my way when I say, “Get lost.”

The chick stares at me with a blank expression, and I avoid looking at Cyn’s face. Instead, I lean into her and say through gritted teeth, “Move.”

She smirks but doesn’t budge, glancing at Cyn with a questioning look, but he’s not staring at her, he’s looking at me, and the fire in his emerald eyes creates an ache in my core.

“Ba—” she starts to say, but I’m done, and I push her to the floor.

“You bitch!” she shrieks.

Leaning over his lap and pressing my hands against his thigh, I note his sizable erection and turn to him with a wicked glare. He smirks and adjusts his package, all the while staring into my eyes.

Dropping back into the chair beside him, I’m gratified when he ignores the bitch’s overtures and grabs my hand, placing it back on his thigh.

My cheeks heat, and I brush my hair behind my ear, ignoring the multiple stares coming at me from all directions.

Leaning into me, Cyn growls, “I’m going to fuck you so hard later.”

Pulling my lips into his signature smirk, I whisper back, “And I’m going to ride you like a whore.”

“Fuck,” he mutters, his eyes blazing.

With a smile, I squirm dramatically in my seat before picking up a fry and sucking off the sauce.

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