Page 888 of The Bonding Games: Part 1

Scotty catches him before he can slam into her and wake her up.

“Fucker,” I hiss as I quickly, but far more gently than Tiger attempted to, slot myself on Havoc’s left, running my nose along her neck and shifting her as gently as possible so that she’s on her side, tucked securely into my arms. Inhaling the spicy-yet-sweet scent of her, I let out a contented groan that I muffle in her skin.

“As I was saying . . . Who wants her other side, I guess?” Scotty asks as he lets his pouting brother go.

Cooper glances at Alby. “You want the spot?”

He gulps loudly. “U-uh . . . y-yeah . . . ?” he says hesitantly, like he thinks that was a trick question. “But not if you want it!” he rushes to add.

“Of course I do,” he scoffs, and Alby’s face drops, though he tries to hide his disappointment. “But I’m offering it to you,” Cooper continues, and Alby blinks twice, seemingly wondering if he misheard him. “We’re all wanting to be close to her, but there’s no point arguing over it when there’s plenty of nights to go around after this.” He shrugs. Before rethinking and adding, “Hopefully.”

I grumble under my breath.

Hopefully, my ass. Havoc’s given herself to us, and we’re not giving her back. She even called us hers, finally acknowledging what I’ve known for years, the other guys since they met her, no doubt. My baby’s irresistible like that.

“Okay . . .” Alby breathes with a small smile. He hesitates a moment longer before another look at Ezla has his resolve visibly firming. He shrugs off his clothes until he’s only a tad more covered than the rest of us in his boxer briefs, and I close my eyes to sleep as I snuggle deeper into my Havoc, unconcerned by whatever the guys will do next as long as they don’t bother me or her.

Honestly though, it pisses me off how Alby is still so insecure, and protective instincts kick in every time I see it, which I still find odd. It’s not as strong as it is with Ezla, and there’s obviously not the same feelings involved there, but I know I’d kill for the smaller guy.

“Ummmm . . . Tate? Is this okay?” he asks nervously, and I manage to grunt an affirmative in response.

I peek an eye open when I hear the whispery rustling of sheets, and I rumble, “Stop moving so much. You’ll wake her.”

“Sorry.” Alby’s squeak is quieter than a mouse’s as he nervously slots himself against our Bonded’s front.

But then his features almost immediately lose their tension, a soft, contented smile appearing on his face as he settles into her. He closes his eyes, disappearing from sight as he buries his face in Ezla’s chest.

Tiger sprawls out on his back like a starfish beside him, and Scotty and Cooper both move to my side of the bed.

A fair amount of space is left on the silk-clad mattress, even with so many men on it. No movements are restricted either—that’s how fucking humongous this thing is. And none of us are under the sheets, having not wanted to move our Bonded, but in most buildings, the temperature is neither hot nor cold these days, advanced technology keeping most inside places at a perfectly neutral temperature no matter the degrees outside, so we’re all good in that aspect, too. It’s on the warmer side with all our body heat, though, all nice and cosy for my Havoc—another thing my new brothers are useful for, I’ll give them that.

“Night, Ezzy,” Tiger says quietly around a yawn. Cooper or Scotty must turn the knob that’s on the wall by the headboard—we have one in each room that allows us to adjust how bright the glow of the Avri strips around our Bonded chambers are—because the luminance of the white, red, and green energy in the bedroom gets dimmer and dimmer, and soon, I can hardly see before me. “Love you.”

And even though our Bonded is asleep, Tiger’s sleepy words are echoed throughout the room in multiple different formats. Then everything falls still, and I quickly fade into dreams, finding my Havoc there too. Just like I always do.

64

SCOTTY

“No! Let me go! I do not like it!”

“That is not the tone you use with me, Daughter. Be good. This is just like your training.”

“But I did not do anything wrong!” the girl cries, fat tears streaming down her cheeks as an older man holds her down on top of him, sitting in an expensive chair at a long dining table.

Ezla and her father.

I know this, and yet I can’t process anything—where I am, what the fuck is going on . . . only the nausea that swirls through my stomach as I absorb the sight before me.

And the fact that the young girl doesn’t have a blackish-crimson scar splitting her face.

“This is not a punishment; it is a reward. It will feel good, my dearest. For both of us.” The Game Master’s hand is moving under her silk nightie . . . a lacy nightdress that hardly covers her backside. One a girl who looks no older than twelve has no business wearing.

“But it does not!” Ezla screams, a familiar look of fury replacing the fear for a moment.

Crack!

The force of her father’s blow launches her off his lap and to the unforgiving taalk floor.