Page 445 of The Bonding Games: Part 1

A sudden dizziness overtakes me, and I feel as though I’m thrown out of my body somewhere.

I’m hot . . . then cold.

Vision blurry . . . then sharp.

I don’t . . . I can’t comprehend . . .

“E—Ezzy?” Tiger rasps, his voice somehow piercing through the fog making my hearing hazy and distant.

My tongue feels thick and heavy as I open my mouth to speak, but not even the strangled sound that builds in my throat makes it out as I stare at the living nightmare before me.

On the couch whose back faces the wall parallel to us, sits Ezla, my Vengeance.

Except she’s not on the couch. Not really.

The man underneath her is.

The Game Master holds our Bonded on his knee, his hand cupping her between her legs possessively, his other wrapped around the side of her slim waist.

And Ezla . . . Ezla’s helmet is back on.

“E-Ezla? What—what’s happening?”

A burst of pain through the bond at Alby’s shaking question before a wall of taalk slams up. I latch onto that pain with all I have, with all that I am, as her head tilts a fraction and that robotically modified voice replies pitilessly, “Did you honestly think you could ever have me? I thought I trained you better than that, Players.”

EPILOGUE

EZLA

An hour earlier . . .

I wake to a stabbing pain searing right from my eye and up into my brain, infecting every inch of my head.

I strengthen my mental walls to titanium in an instant, locking my pain inside with absolutely no way for it to seep through the bond and into one of my men.

Gritting my teeth, I push myself stealthily up to a sitting position, ever so carefully sliding Cooper’s and Scotty’s strong arms from my body. The former’s straight brows twitch downwards marginally, and I narrow my eyes at my short-tempered Bonded, willing him to stay asleep, or else. He wisely obeys, and in the faint Avri light, I rove my gaze over him and the others as they rest.

But my neck extends as my entire body tenses, teeth drawing blood from my tongue as I work to keep my scream in and a fresh wave of agony from flowing down the bond.

Father is here.

I can feel it.

It should not surprise me—he is the Game Master, after all. He is The Bonding Games. He owns anything and everything to do with the operation. So no, it should not catch me off guard that my father has somehow got into a place that is nothing short of sacred in our world.

And yet I find myself wholly, disgracefully unprepared for him to turn up in the middle of the night at our Bonded chambers.

Something like a whimper crawls up my throat, and I boot the pathetic sound back down, ignoring the repetitive jabbing in my right eye socket and rising to my knees.

Then I take in my Bonds again, maybe for the last time like this. Because I know . . . I know I will not be able to have what I want this time. I know that this is over before it has even begun.

These men will never be mine.

And it was foolish to think it could have been any other way.

I should have remained emotionless, should have ignored these intruding, despicable feelings. But I . . . I want.

And I want something I can never have.