Page 29 of The Bonding Games: Part 2

Jaw shifting as he grinds his teeth, Tate flicks his own eyes back and forth between him and Scotty. After a moment, they come to a stop on the latter, and he says lowly, “I’m sorry.”

Scotty shakes his head. “It’s fine, Tate. I get that this is difficult for you. I can’t imagine how it must feel to have four other men in your life suddenly after the girl you’ve had feelings for for years—”

Rolling his eyes, Cooper interrupts, “Bloody hell, I hate you all. Can you just accept Tate’s apology? We’re witnessing once-in-a-lifetime shit here, and instead of accepting what you’re due, you’re trying to tell him he’s done nothing wrong? That’s fucking bullshit, and you know it. By now, he should be dealing with this relationship better and understand we’d never try to steal Ezla away like he would.” A venomous glower is tossed Tate’s way. “And sometimes, Tate, there will be one-on-one time with our Bonded. You’ve had that before yourself, and did you wake any of us up to tell us she was here?”

He can’t hold Cooper’s stare any longer at that, recognising the level of hypocrisy there.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

No one speaks for a stretched-out moment. Then Tate repeats, the shame clear in him now as he makes himself look Scotty in the eye as he repeats gruffly, “I’m sorry, Scotty. I was being a dickhead. It’s not an excuse, but I’m still struggling to get used to this. I’ve been dreaming about meeting Ezla and having a life with her for years. Just me and her. I could never have prepared myself for four other guys bonding her, too.”

Twisting my fingers in my lap, I flick my attention back to Cooper as he mutters under his breath, “Better.”

It’s another beat before Tiger says, “Just so you know, Tater Tot, I’m kinda mad at you right now. But you won’t get the silent treatment because I know you’re lacking in emotional intelligence, so you get some leniency.”

His lips tighten.

“Umm . . . can we go and see Ezla now?” I ask quietly, hoping to prevent any more arguing.

Scotty smiles warmly, and everyone seems to collectively relax at the thought of seeing the woman we love again, even if it isn’t going to be at all fun when two of us have to pretend to hate her and the rest of us have to seem like we might be starting to. Worse, this is our last training before Game 4 tomorrow.

Nudging his chin at my plate, Scotty says, “Finish your food, then we’ll go. She might have updates for us about whatever her brilliant mind has concocted.”

***

It’s different this time. Air Battles is the only Game held outside of The Dome, and it feels strange to be out in the elements like this. In my Avri suit, I can’t feel the change of temperature too well, but it’s warm out here in September despite the fact it’s starting to get late. I’m pretty sure it’s for better visual effects that this Game is always held later than the others, beginning once the sun’s gone down, and I have to admit, it does look cool on TV to see Players whizzing around on their glowing Avri jets against the backdrop of the starry night sky.

But nothing can change the fact that it’s still a game of death that no person should ever have to compete in.

Chin up, my shy boy. You will be okay. I will slaughter anyone who tries to harm you.

I almost don’t manage to smother my gasp in time.

Listening to Ezla with my cheeks now burning what’s likely a billion shades deeper than my default, I roam my eyes around the courtyard before me. My heart’s pitter-pattering at the rate of knots in my chest, and my head is a little fuzzy from each and every little word she just sent through the bond, but even if we need to act as we have been for the public, we’re not about to showcase the fact that we still use mind communication to the Game Master. We’ll be using it up in the air, but we’re counting on Joseph either not noticing the mind-to-mind talk through all the chaos or letting it slide since it’s being used for battle talk like I’m sure other Bonded use it for in Games. And so all I can respond with is my obedience right now.

There’s another imposing box out here like the one in the arena directly at our backs—the dome-shaped building’s netting of Avri is lit up starkly in the dark in brilliant red, white, and green, making it even more breathtaking than it is in the day—and I know that one-way horizontal rectangle holds him and the other higher-ups like usual. And there isn’t seating for the public this time, so the spectators from across Techtis are in clusters on the taalk ground surrounding The Courtyard, just behind the trees; about fifteen feet apart, each conifer tree stands tall on either side of the sizable rectangular floor of concrete we stand on, leading right from The Dome to the viewing box, and although it’s not too exciting, it’s nice to see some nature once in a while. Of course I’ve seen trees before—we need them and other greens for oxygen, after all—but they’re usually purposely hidden away, reserved to dedicated nature areas so as to not ruin the aesthetic of the region.

“Welcome, everyone, to Game 4 of The Bonding Games!”

Cheers erupt all around, travelling back and back to fainter cries filled with anticipation by the edge of the Headquarters’ territory and echoing through the surrounding city beyond.

Nausea flips my stomach over.

Inhaling a deep breath, I blow it out slowly as the Showmaster goes through his usual speech, and I can only pray he hurries up, because my anxiety is only getting worse and worse the longer he drones on. It doesn’t help that I know he’s Ezla’s massage therapist, either, and my insides writhe in discomfort at the thought as well as the fact he’s clearly not much better than the Game Master if what he said to my Bonded recently was bad enough that she lost every ounce of her composure and jumped on him.

Clammy gloved fists clenching by my sides, I look to my right, taking her in now.

A sense of surreality hits me when I think about how, just weeks ago, I was opposite her, trembling from the fear that she’d take my life in the most savage way possible. And she certainly tried to. Almost ran me over with her tribike within the first handful of seconds of Game 1, in fact. But now she’s at my side, promising to protect me, to kill for me rather than just . . . kill me.

My heart strains towards her, and her head shifts just so to her left.

Internally, I squeak under her attention, that ever-present nervousness here, yet I love the feeling when it’s caused by all of her focus on me.

But I can’t bask in it for long because I hear the Showmaster, Peter, finishing his overdramatic monologue.

Casting a quick glance around me, I take in the other remaining Players, all of whom are shifting anxiously, some with a more excitable kind, I note with little surprise but heaps of dread as my eyes catch on Aider.

One of the Exots standing with him notices me staring, the luminous dark ruby numbers on his forearms reading ‘87’, and his lips twitch into a subtle smirk that has me even more unsettled than before.