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I took another drink, draining my glass; Lynn handed me the bottle of the tequila. Right, the time for cocktails had passed; good point. I was still pretty buzzed from earlier, the ride on Priest’s bike only partly sobering me, but not drunk enough to get through this. I took a deep swallow.
"I couldn't get away. His growl was strong, and the collar kept me trapped." I took another drink, tingles and heat moving through me, and I breathed, "I was—he—raped me."
Lynn snatched the bottle out of my hand, slammed it on the counter, and dragged me into a ferocious hug, squeezing me so tight my bones creaked.
"Two things," she said as I hugged her back, tears pooling in my eyes. "One, if the knights got hold of him, Tybalt will torture him, and then they'll kill him. So he'll never touch you again—or hurt anyone else either.Two, stop being so damn hard on yourself. Stop acting like you're fine when you're fucked up for obvious reasons. Give yourself permission to be completely screwed in the head."
I wasn't sure Lynn's advice was healthy, but maybe she was right. Maybe Iwasbeing hard on myself, expecting the Luna from two days ago to wake up every morning instead of the Luna who'd been—raped.
God, I'd—I'd been—raped.
"Is she alright?" someone asked, full of sympathy and gentle understanding.
I bristled.
"Mind your fucking business," Lynn snarled, and the random puff of laughter that left my lips dispersed some of the crushing pressure on my chest.
"Has anyone ever told you, you're not very nice?" I teased.
"Several times a day," Lynn drawled and let go of me, taking a long look at my face before nodding at what she saw. "I don't owe anyone fuck all, and certainly not sweetness. This…" She waved a hand. "This shit changes you, in tiny ways and massive ways. Don't let anyone make you feel guilty for being whoever you need to be to survive."
I blinked. Okay, shit, that was actually good advice.
"Don't look so surprised," she laughed, picking up her glass again. "I can be wise."
"Are you sure?" I asked, heavy on the sarcasm, and smirked at her eye roll. This felt … good. I'd felt slightly better after the time I spent with Priest, but now I felt more settled than I had since I got to the compound.
"Does anyone else know?" she asked, bringing us back to the world’s shittiest subject. The person who asked if I was okay had returned to the sofas, thank the Lord.
"Only—one person," I admitted with a sigh, grabbing the last two slices of ham and devouring them. "Priest. He found me in that place. Took the collar off me."
Lynn bobbed her dark head, contemplative. "So what's the vibe? Is he like Jesus for sweeping in and saving you, or do you want to fuck him until you see God?"
I burst out laughing, my face tingling with heat and outrage. "Lynn!"
"What? I've been here a while; those are the only two outcomes. Idolisation or sex. Well, maybe the occasional best friend, but that's rare."
I raised an eyebrow at her caginess. "Which was yours?"
"The latter. Moving on."
I laughed, but let her be. Lynn wasn't the sort of person you pushed until she told you the truth; she was the sort you pushed until she threatened you at the end of a knife. I liked her, Irealised. Genuinely. There were no airs and graces with Lynn, and no expectations or judgement beyond her snark and her smirk.
"So which is it?" she asked, steering the conversation back to Priest.
I glanced away. "Both? I don't know."
"Hmm." She glanced into the distance and smiled. "Hey, can you tell me if he's got a big dick? I've had a bet going with ChaCha for years."
"What?No!" I laughed, shaking my head. "Not a damn chance."
"I'll give you a cut," she offered. "It's a hefty bet."
I groaned. "What are you doing betting on the size of his dick anyway?"
Lynn shrugged, back to being her indolent self. "No one's ever been with him. Not any of the clubwomen, either. We've got another bet going that he’s celibate."
And I'd propositioned him earlier. Twice. Oh, fuck.
