Page 386 of The Bonding Games: Part 1

“That was definitely a ‘yes’ hum, right?” Tiger brightens, his usual sunshine peeking through the curtains of his pain for our Bonded.

“Hm.”

“Yeah. That’s a yes, everyone! Off to the dining room we go! I’ll order our food!”

***

Vengeance hasn’t talked, but she stayed, and that was enough.

And she’s still in Scotty’s T-shirt.

With only her underwear on beneath.

Scotty was well chuffed when he watched her fail to keep the pyjama shorts on after she’d attempted to get back into them, only to have them slide down her legs when she stood.

As always, we try to engage with her, but we can read the signals and largely work to include her in the conversations without her needing to speak.

Mostly, I’ve noticed how she’s been watching us.

Back at the feast she’d held for us, she hardly looked at any of us the entire night, even in the hot tub—just the reminder has my cock hardening again where I’d finally managed to get it to go down a fraction, the images that funnel through my mind of our time in that steaming water provoking a heated thrum in my blood—but now, she scrutinises us. I’m not sure if she knows we can tell, if she’s attempting to be discreet, or if she simply doesn’t give two shits what we think, but she’s examining us, taking in the dynamics of our group, the way we all interact when we’re not training.

Her head cants marginally as she watches the way Tiger tosses a baby carrot at Scotty with a “Catch!”, and it slaps his brother’s face before he can even try to open his mouth, falling onto his plate with a plop. She seems a little confused, a faint line appearing between her dark brows when Scotty only fights a smile and shakes his head before he stabs the carrot on his fork and brings it to his mouth without bashing his brother’s skull in.

I make a mental note to tell Tiger to never try that with Vengeance unless he wants his head lopped off.

She curiously watches Alby’s reaction on her right while he smiles around his fork at Tiger’s antics, then slowly turns her head to Scotty’s side of the table again, where Tate sits between him and me, eating silently and boring holes into her head with searingly fixated eyes. He gives her a suggestive grin when their gazes meet, and she narrows her own intense one before moving her inspection onto me.

Her defined jaw tenses when she catches me studying her right back.

With how straight she sits and how neatly she holds her knife and fork, I can tell this behaviour for meals has been drilled into her, and it’s just another reason to hate her father; he’s made her feel like she can’t relax, and she’s clearly never had a regular family dinner before.

It’s no doubt why she speaks the way she does, too; I’ve noticed she uses abbreviations little to never, her words always put together neatly. She could’ve simply mimicked the Game Master’s speech style, but I wouldn’t put my credits on the learning process being so painless.

You don’t have to do that, I think, hoping she’ll be looking into my mind.

She is.

I know. I do not have to do anything. I do what I want.

Do you? Do you really want to be sitting straight enough to make your back hurt? Will you not relax?

“I am,” she snaps out loud, and all heads whip her way.

“Fuck’s sake. Cooper, what did you say now?” Scotty sighs, rubbing at his forehead.

I glower at his assumption, but, to be fair, I’m aware that I am a common instigator and this is yet again my doing, so I only huff and say, “She doesn’t look comfortable.”

Everyone’s eyes slide back to our Bonded.

She scowls. “I am perfectly comfortable. Stop staring, or I will pluck all your eyeballs out and make cocktails with them.”

“Nice try, Havoc, baby, but I know you love my eyes too much to do that.”

“And mine!” Tiger pipes up, widening his blues and leaning over Alby to shove them in HC’s face for emphasis.

“Yes. So much so that I could be tempted to make said cocktail for other reasons, too,” she deadpans.

Gawking, Tiger stage-whispers, “Holy shit, did Ezzy just make a joke?!”