Page 112 of Made for Cyn
It’s reprehensible and no better than John, who, for all I know, frequents this block too.
Goosebumps rise on my skin, and I look away from their soulless eyes. One such girl, surely no more than fifteen, stares back at me with a hard glare, searching my gaze and finding me lacking. Does she recognize my innocence?
I find Cyn staring at me when I turn away, and I search the emerald depths for the truth, but Cyn is a blank wall. In this, I can create my own truths, but they’ll still be lies at the end of the day if I’m wrong, and the writing on the wall, as it were, would be a punch to the face.
He raises a brow in challenge, and I smile, but it’s halfhearted in the wake of my situation. He lifts my chin and stares into my eyes with a curious intensity before pecking me on the mouth, his soft lips warm against my chilled ones.
I’m so very cold that this brief caress makes me tremble, and it takes everything in me not to cry out when he wraps his arms around me and unknowingly creates a wildfire of pain in my back.
With a groan, he deepens the kiss but pulls back after a moment because I’m still trembling, but this time it’s from pain, and although he can’t sense the cause, he can see the result. With a furrowed brow, he sets me back and looks away.
But what can I do?
We’re about to enter an unknown, at least for me, and I’m pretty sure Cyn doesn’t need the distraction. Besides, my lies are about to come back to haunt me, and I’m not looking forward to the consequences. What will Cyn do?
What do I want him to do? I’m so confused.
The party is at a warehouse sandwiched between a long line of them, most appearing abandoned and this side of broken down. This one is lit up from within, the doors open to bass music pumping into the night air. It’s chilly, and I pull my coat closer as Cyn takes my hand and pulls me along, his face shored up tight since our kiss.
With regret, I stare at his back, damning John for ruining everything once again. I’d like to see Cyn smile at me with tenderness in his eyes, but for now, all I seem to inspire is disappointment, and the feeling sticks in my throat, creating a painful ache I can’t swallow past.
Once we reach the doors, I spy hundreds of people within. This is far more than any party I’ve been to since coming to this town.
As expected, I’m way overdressed compared to my peers, who all wear skirts or dresses with their asses bared to the wind. Frankly, I don’t know how they can stand it, because I’m shivering in my jacket and thankful I wore jeans.
Still, with their overly styled hair, loads of makeup, and daring displays, they outshine me in every way, and I have to resist the urge to sink in on myself. I may not feel the need to expose my parts to every dude here, but it doesn’t mean I don’t measure up. I just hope Cyn agrees.
He’s looking around with a frown when I peek at him, his eyes cascading over the masses as he presumably searches for Hate. I don’t see his eyes land on any particular chick, which makes me feel better until I spy Shelby pushing through the crowd, and I stiffen up right quick.
I suppose it wouldn’t be a party without Shelby, but I’m weary of her and how she fits or used to fit into Cyn’s world because clearly, he went back to her more than once, making me wonder just how important she is, or was—it better be was.
Jig steps up beside me and gives me a wide grin, although his eyes are solemn when he whispers, “Don’t sweat it, LB. Cyn has never brought a girl to something like this.”
Which means what? But I don’t have time to ask because Shelby is upon us, rudely placing her hand on Cyn’s bicep right in front of my face before she runs her fingers up the smooth, sexy muscle.
Glaring at that hand, with the fire engine red tips, I step into Cyn and grab it, removing the digits one by one while she glares at me ferociously.
“Don’t touch me,” she hisses, and I raise a brow, muttering, “Don’t touch what’s mine.”
Cyn tightens his hand around me, and I glance into his face to find him staring at me with so much heat, I almost orgasm on the spot. Holy shit, but I’m a melted puddle of goo.
He smirks and turns back to Shelby, who I think says something along the lines of, “I’m the one he fucks when he gets tired of bitches like you.”
Before he can speak, and I can see him gearing up to, I step into her space and say in a quiet voice, “That may be. But I’m the bitch he’s fucking now, and you’re the bitch who can’t have him anymore.”
The words taste sour on my tongue because I’m still jealous of them ever having been together, but I can’t control the past, only my future. And while I’m here on his arm, I plan to stake my claim.
“What—”
“Enough,” Cyn barks. “You heard her. Back off.”
Shelby looks at him, shocked, before dropping her hand and backing away. I might have felt sorry for her because she has genuine hurt on her face at his rejection until she casts her angry eyes on me, and I feel her death stare all the way to my toes.
This one has now become my enemy, assuming she wasn’t before. Excellent, I’ll add her to the list.
Jig laughs, and Bastion huffs, but we move along, and I smile triumphantly until Cyn’s cousin Hate comes into view, and I wonder just what the hell I’m doing.
But I’m even more confused when Iris appears on the arm of a guy I recognize, who’s tall, dark, and handsome but dead inside. I can see it behind his eyes, and I turn to Iris incredulously.