Page 384 of The Bonding Games: Part 1

The red-hot fires of her glare only flare up more destructively.

And then she really appears as though she’s considering her earlier threat to hang me by my balls when she sees the threatening look can no longer intimidate me.

It’s almost cute.

I will destroy you. I will tear you apart. Piece by piece. One toenail at a time. Your fingernails as slow as possible. I will carve apart your dick in thin, torturous slices with one of my Avri daggers as one would use a potato peeler—

Okay. That one brings a wince to my face.

Apologies, Vengeance, I attempt to soothe, but I’m not as good at it as Scotty is.

Hm.

Rubbing a hand over my face to hide the smirk that pushes up my lips at that familiar short response—I can’t help it when kissing her, touching her, has left me all kinds of chipper, even in the midst of my little personal history lesson—I finish the story: “Luckily, I’d never developed an alcohol addiction, or things could’ve been way worse. Once my brother was dead, I was honestly doing so much better already. That time changed me, left a scar, but I lived easier than ever before after you’d slaughtered him, Ezla—quite brutally, might I add.”

“Thank you,” she says, her usual toneless voice returned. “That was one of my best kills.”

I grin like a lunatic, and she certainty looks at me like I’m one. But it feels like an anvil has been lifted from my chest, and it’s because of her.

It’s always because of her.

“I want you to know,” Tiger speaks up then with a hand over his heart and complete sincerity in his eyes, and we all look to him, waiting to hear whatever he has to say. “That you are an asshole. But you are not your brother’s kind of asshole. You are an asshole deserving of love.”

We all stare at him.

I blink.

“Thank you?” I think it was meant to be a compliment, and honestly, that was kind of needed. Even if he’s not as tactful as he’d like to think.

Because I do sometimes wonder if my anger resembles my brother’s aggressiveness, even though I know deep down it doesn’t, that I don’t enjoy hurting people, and that my temper, though short and quick to explode, never rises so rapidly without a reason like his did, even if I’m well aware I do need to work on it and how I respond to stress.

“My parents disowned me because they thought I was a sociopath, and they didn’t want a kid like that in their prefect little family,” Tate grunts abruptly.

We all gape at him.

Other than Ezla. She’s simply staring at him with those intense mismatched eyes of hers, absently twirling a lock of chestnut hair around her finger.

“I don’t care, but since we’re getting shit out in the open, that’s really all there is to my story. I went off to EvTS—which you’d think wouldn’t be the case if my parents were right in their assumptions—and that was it. Never saw them again. And I did wonder if I was a sociopath or some shit, because I don’t remember feeling any empathy or love and whatnot for my parents, and I may have traumatised them a little with my behaviour over the years . . . But then, my Havoc came along.” His sigh can only be described as dreamy, his features melting to match. I still find it a little jarring to see those kind of expressions on such a naturally intimidating face. “And while I’m very much obsessed”—he licks his lips as he bores hungry eyes into Ezla, now evidently moments away from pouncing—“I know I love you, too. It’s the first time I’d felt any sort of love or obsession. Fuck knows what label I’d be slapped with if I did get my head checked out, but I couldn’t fucking care less. Just don’t call me insane and we’re all good.” He nods like that’s all summed up.

I shrug, not about to push for more or try to analyse his mental state when I can see how little he truly cares about it. “Okay.”

“Well, if you ever need to talk—”

“I have my Havoc,” Tate cuts Scotty off in a huff, shooting him a side-eye. “You’re okay . . . I guess, but no one will be looking inside my head but my girl.”

“You guess?” Scotty snorts.

“What about me? You love me, right?” Tiger grins widely and bats his lashes, lacing his fingers together and propping his chin on his linked hands.

“No,” Tate replies bluntly.

He pouts. “Jeez, Tater Tot, you’re almost as cold as Ezzy.”

I can tell being compared to her is one of the best things he’s ever heard, his grey eyes lit with a manic kind of excitement as they zoom in on Ezla once more, wholly mesmerised by her. “Thanks.”

“We are shopping for the ball tomorrow,” Vengeance says abruptly, stretching out languidly. The action draws all the attention back to that flawless body of hers, and Tate loses the battle with himself, throwing himself at her and snatching her breast up in his mouth.

Hissing, she slaps his shoulder with a brutal blow before grabbing a fistful of his hair and yanking him up. “Did I say you could do that?” she snarls, and even laying on her back, she still manages to appear as the largest threat in the room. Then again, her presence alone is enough for that.