Page 170 of The Bonding Games: Part 2

Cooper lets out a low curse while a squeak that’s almost a shriek flies from Alby. Tiger simply keeps staring off into paradise, mouth hanging open. And with a deep, ragged groan from me, I drag myself painfully back into position by the wall.

Anything for you, my Havoc.

***

Chest puffed up with pride, I stand in a row with Cooper, Alby, and Tiger as Scotty leads a thoroughly sated Havoc towards the lounge. His hands are over her eyes, and it’s a testament to how good of a job he’s done that she’s allowing him to walk her to us like this at all. “Just a little further,” he murmurs, a smile pulling at his lips as his eyes roam around the room.

“I am aware of the exact number of average-sized steps it takes to reach the living room from our Bonded bedroom, thank you very much,” Ezla informs him tonelessly.

He laughs under his breath while my own mouth splits into a wide grin. “Of course you do.” There’s nothing but love and fondness in his tone.

Tiger cups his hands around his mouth as if our Bonded’s not right there to cheer, “You’re so intelligent, Deadly Nightshade! I love you!”

Still smiling, Scotty shakes his head softly from side to side as he comes to a stop with Havoc at the end of the hallway. “Right. Are you ready, Love?”

She hums as if considering. “I am not sure. With you inside of me, I have not been able to focus on the thoughts of my Bonds in this room to know exactly what to expect.”

“Yay! So we’re really gonna surprise you!” Tiger bounces from foot to foot as if he can’t keep all his excitement in. “You’ll love it, DN, I promise!”

“Want us to count down?” Cooper asks.

“I do not,” she replies bluntly.

His lips tick upwards. “Alright then. Scotty,” he prompts.

Without further ado, Scotty moves his hands away.

Havoc blinks.

When her eyes start to move around the room as she stands frozen in place, I follow her gaze, taking everything in.

Behind me, I think we might have gone overboard with the balloons, but whatever—my baby deserves the most of everything. The red decorations cover almost the entire wall, and her head tilts a fraction as she takes in the smiley face and the . . . interesting drawn-on stick people that I’m just now noticing myself above the boldly written ‘19’ on one of them.

I squint at the image. “That supposed to be us?” I grunt.

“Yeah!” Tiger says happily. “You like it? Don’t we look so cute as stick figures?”

A flurry of warmth finds me in the bond before I can answer, and my head snaps back to Havoc in an instant to see her fighting a smile. I expect her to speak, but she seems lost for words in one of those rare occasions as her eyes linger on that drawing before continuing on their tour around the room.

She mutely takes in the ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY!’ banners, the background done in a deep ruby colour with the letters in silver like everything else, because we all know that, despite everything, red’s still Havoc’s favourite colour. Then she absorbs the confetti all over the place, which an extremely enthusiastic Tiger had the time of his life throwing in every direction possible as he spun around the room ten minutes ago, evidently believing he was a professional dancer again. Havoc’s eyes sparkle as she sees each little piece is shaped like a dagger.

The longer I look around the lounge with her, gaze flicking between her and each decoration she stops on, the more sure I am that this was overkill, but again, Havoc deserves everything. Besides, this is making up for a lifetime without a single birthday celebration, so that’s even more reason for her to have it all.

After taking her time with the red fairy lights twinkling on the left wall—which I now narrow my eyes at before shooting a deadly glare at Cooper because he promised they weren’t fucking wonky—Ezla’s eyes finally come to the floor at our feet. Then the couches. The low onyx coffee table. The stacks by the walls.

Cooper rubs at the back of his neck, cheeks almost as red as the rest of the room. “Ah . . . there’s more presents on the dining table too,” he mutters.

Tiger beams.

Scotty frowns slightly like he doesn’t remember buying this many things.

Alby shifts awkwardly.

I rumble, “Happy birthday, Havoc.”

Her lips part.

We give her time, but when no words come out, Scotty places a gentle hand on her back. “Love? Are you okay?” he asks softly, clearly trying to fight back any nervousness, but the vulnerability still trickles into his next question. “Is it too much?”