Page 49 of The Bonding Games: Part 1

Dragging my gaze reluctantly away from the woman parrying, slicing, spinning, and kicking out too quickly for my brain to process, I settle it on those men.

Alby and Tiger were a given, as we’d agreed to bond the same person before Game 1, but the other two are new, and I don’t know what to make of them yet. They don’t seem like immediate threats, but the one with the piercings worries me the most: I can’t deny I wouldn’t mind a romantic relationship with Ezla—not that it even seems possible with how she is, but she’s . . . I’ve never felt drawn to someone like I instantly was to her the moment that robotic-like voice met my ears—and my brother obviously is all for it as well. So what worries me here is, with Tate so clearly obsessed with her and liable to snap at any moment at just the mention of her name from another man’s lips, I’m not so sure he’d submit to the rules to not kill anyone in your Bonded group if we made a move on her.

Although, I think as my eyes slide back to the Simulation Hexagon to see the many eyes on my Bonded, both women’s and men’s alike, some more lusting than others . . . I think I can understand his jealousy as a spike of the bitter emotion stabs into me.

Huh. That’s never happened before.

I’ve slept with a couple girls in the past, but nothing more than that, and admittedly only to try and combat the loneliness I felt when I had to wait three years to be reunited with Tiger again in third school. Unfortunately, it didn’t do anything but make me feel even more alone, especially because I just didn’t find it that enjoyable when I didn’t feel anything for either girl. It was clear I couldn’t and wouldn’t be the kind of guy who sleeps around, so I’ve not been with anyone since and left it at that, honestly not thinking much of it.

But now . . .

I watch Ezla’s every move, her toned body gliding through the air with a vicious grace, those curved Avri daggers she favours relentlessly decapitating the orange men that just keep coming and coming at her while she shows no signs of tiring or slowing down. Throwing stars come at her from three different directions, and the stiffening of my spine is unwarranted as she launches herself high, twisting mid-air at an almost horizontal angle to have each and every one of them missing her by inches as they slice through the air where a limb was only moments ago.

Gods . . .

My heart gives a hefty thump, and my throat goes dry.

Stunning.

Evidently, Tate thinks so, too, because he adjusts himself so obviously that it momentarily yanks my attention to him beside me.

“Fuck me,” he groans. “Look at her go. I just wanna bend her over, tear open her suit, and lick her greedy little cunt—”

“Bloody hell, man. Do you have no shame?” Cooper cuts him off, face scrunched up.

“No,” he snaps without taking his eyes off Ezla. “And stop looking at my girl.”

My eyes roll so hard they take a trip to the back of my brain, but I refrain from pointing out that she’s technically not even his, no more than she was before Game 1, despite the Bonded status.

“But she’s really hot. And impressive as fuck. Scotty, we gotta woo her— AHHH! BROTHER, SAVE ME!”

Cursing, I jump on Tate, struggling to tear him off my brother when he’s got a good bit of muscle on me, even though I’m by no means lacking in that department from my years of training.

“Oh gods!” Alby yelps, eyes huge and his hands waving about like he doesn’t know whether he could be any help and where to even begin to try to give it.

“A little help here?” I grit out through clenched teeth to the only other man available as I try my hardest to yank the fucking animal backwards to no avail.

Cooper scowls mightily but steps forwards, grabbing a hold of Tate’s neck with one hand and his thick bicep with the other. Then he tugs with enough strength that we all shift backwards . . . Tiger included.

Fuck’s sake.

“Let go, you rhinoceros!” my brother bellows.

Said rhinoceros roars, “She’s mine!”

This is exactly what I meant about Tate—he’s too fucking volatile when it comes to our Bonded.

Robotically modified, a throat clears.

I freeze along with the other four men, every muscle locking up tight.

Then, very slowly, I turn my head to the right.

Somehow, her helmet conveys the unimpressed look beneath.

Fuck.

We all scramble to stand up straight, and I catch Alby’s eye along the way, seeing the mortified look on his pale face.