Page 24 of The Bonding Games: Part 2

As if on cue, an odd tingling builds up within me, largely in the areas I know are purpled all over me. It’s pretty much the same as the sensation I’d felt during Game 1 after Ezla cut my arm off, and like then, I grimace slightly at the feeling.

Relief works through me slower than it did during The Bondings, but I can feel the pill taking effect as the stunning woman I claimed as mine those short weeks ago makes her way back over to me. “Completely?”

“Yes. It is similar to the serum used during Games 1 and 2. However, it cannot heal wounds that are too bad, such as the one I gifted you on our meeting.” She appears to recall the memory almost fondly. Hopefully more because it’s when she met one of the men she’s come to feel something for, whatever that may be, rather than because she’s lovingly remembering the way she’d smoothly sliced through my suit, bone, and tissue, but I doubt it. She might not want to cut me up now, but she’s still The Bonding Games Champion, and she definitely didn’t care one bit about me back then, so she’d have no reason to dislike anything about the memory.

“Where did you get this?” I ask next, then suck in a breath, lashes fluttering as she finds her place before me once more and her thumb so gently rubs over my swollen under-eye.

Her tone is unchanging, sticking to her norm as she reveals, “It is what my father makes me take after he has beaten me.”

A pained sound gets caught in my throat, and I draw her into me.

Jesus Christ . . . This isn’t surprising, the confirmation that he fucking beats her on the regular on top of the shit he already does. But hearing it from her lips so bluntly and seeing the proof in the fact that she has special pills to cover up his crimes . . .

My hands have a mind of their own now that I’ve let myself touch her, and they find her body again, smoothing up over her backside lovingly rather than with any sexual intent and coming to rest on her lower back. Her muscles have unsurprisingly locked up somewhat, but she doesn’t move away from me, and more of that built-up tension within me releases.

“But we are not here to talk about me.”

Head tipped back to look up at her, I don’t miss a single shift in her, and I read her anger even though her expression remains unflinching.

Now it’s my turn to stiffen.

“Do not attempt to deny it again. I have come here, despite the danger, as you said, because I am . . . I am worried.” Despite the unease in me and my reluctance to talk about me and my recent behaviour, I fucking melt for her at the admission and the way she evidently struggles with it, though she does a good job of staying composed through her discomfort. Her voice hardens. “So do not disregard my actions.”

“I didn’t mean to, Love—”

“You are trying to protect me as always,” she snaps, appearing for a moment as if she’s about to strangle me before she takes a breath and her thumb continues its soothing motions. As she does, the vision of my injured eye starts to clear, its upper and lower lids opening up, the puffiness dying down along with the dull throbbing pain to give me a better view of my Bonded. I hold on to her tighter in time with the process, fingers pressing into her more and more as though she might run at any second. “I have come to understand that that is who you are, and I am working to accept that you feel the need to look after me at all times, even though I do not need you to.”

My lips tighten at that, but I keep my thoughts on the matter in, knowing it’s pointless to try and make her see that she does, in fact, need help when it comes to Joseph. She dismisses my concerns each and every time I do let them out anyway.

“But what I will not accept,” she continues, the leash on the fury in her that I keep catching glimpses of slipping, “is you dismissing all your own needs in the process.” The tenderness of my body is nearly fully gone now, and I’m sure the bruises beneath my T-shirt would be too if I pulled it up to have a look. But I don’t get the chance to because Ezla clearly notices that as well and decides I’m healed enough for her to manhandle me, her nails digging into my skin as she captures my neck in a firm grip and lowers her seething face to mine. “And I certainly will not accept you attempting to block me out.”

Guilt enshrouds me, especially as a tiny hitch in her breath lets me know I’ve hurt her. She’s so untouchable most of the time, truly unruffled by a vast majority of things, and yet I’ve caused her so much pain over the past days, it sickens me.

“Fuck, Ezla . . . I’m so sorry, Love.” I try to rise, but she moves her hands to my shoulders and presses me back down. I repeat, allowing my anguish to leak into the words, my own hands finding her forearms, “I’m so sorry. I only wanted to keep you from feeling any more pain—”

“Stop with the lies!” Her voices raises, breathing harsh and uncontrolled. It reminds me that the other guys are in our Bonded chambers, too, but the taalk on all sides should block most of the sound from in here enough for them to not hear a thing. Though I now realise they must not even know she’s here—there surely would have been much more of a commotion if they did. Not sure how on earth she managed to avoid Tate, but now’s not the time to wonder. “That is not the only reason you tried to close your side of the bond! You did not want me to notice what you have been doing. But I am not blind, and I do not like it when you hurt yourself!”

My low moan contains all my pain as I drop my forehead to her chest. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, Ezla.”

“It is one thing to forget about your own well-being, but it is another thing entirely to intentionally ignore it. If you truly wanted me happy, you would not be so careless with what belongs to me!”

Breathing as raggedly as her, I lift my head. Now is not the fucking time to be aroused, but my body doesn’t care about that, and I’ve instantly hardened at her possessive, claiming words. I push it aside as I say honestly, voice hoarse, “I didn’t see it like that, Ezla. I just wanted to prove to you—”

“You do not need to prove anything to me.” Inhaling deeply in attempt to regain her composure, she corrects, “You do not need to prove anything to me other than that you can look after yourself as well as you look after everyone else. Your self-destructiveness as of late has done the opposite as was intended. You have concerned me. Do you understand that? Do you understand that this is . . . that what you have been doing has . . . has . . .”

Seeing she’s struggling so much and not needing her to finish her explanation when I’m completely comprehending it, I get out, choked-up, “I see. I do. I’m so fucking sorry.” I sound like a broken record, but I don’t know how to make up for all the pain I’ve inadvertently caused her. Turning my head, my hold on her trembles as I plant a feather-light kiss to her arm. “What can I do? Tell me what I can do to fix this. I’ll do better. I swear I won’t do this again, Ezla. I’m just— God, it’s all . . .”

Fingers curling against my shoulders, she provides the words for me: “You are stressed. You are exhausted and stressed, and you are not thinking clearly. You have been pushing all your own emotions to the back of your mind, catering to everyone else’s needs, and now you have reached breaking point.”

My eyelids slide closed in defeat, neck dropping.

Ezla’s tone changes then. “It is a good thing you have me to stop your moronic, idiotic life choices in their tracks.” A pause before she demands, “On your back.”

My chin lifts back up, and my heart stutters at the look I find in her mismatched eyes. “Ezla . . .”

A slow, wicked smirk curves those plush lips of hers, and I throb in my boxer briefs, blood sizzling immediately. “Scotty,” she purrs mockingly.

I curse but shake my head. “Let me take care of you—”