Page 78 of The Bonding Games: Part 2

Shaking his head at my short sound, Cooper says, “Sure. It’s not like I want to explode on you, Vengeance. I think it’s pretty clear I’ve got some anger issues, and I’m aware I need some work on that, so I’m all for trying.”

“But I so love our verbal sparring matches. They make me wish I could bring myself to hang you from the ceiling and spin you around with my daggers against your skin so that—”

“Jesus Christ, Vengeance,” Cooper hisses, shoving a hand through his deep brown hair, appearing mildly terrified for his life. “We get the picture.”

“Errr, just to double-check, you don’t want to do that, right?” Tiger speaks up, flashing a toothy smile when I look his way. “I mean, I’ve been pretty certain of your undying love for us, Ezzy, but that was very graphic and seemed quite thought out—”

Anger rises again in one great surge. “Do not question me. Have I not proved myself?”

“Oh no!” His hands wave about wildly, and he throws his arms around me, which is awkward when I am already smushed to Tate, who grumbles under his breath. “No, DN! Of course you have! This is just all very new, and I think sometimes you still say very scary things. But don’t you worry, Wifey, that’s what I love about you!”

“Hm. Put me down now, Tate.”

With a sneaked-in kiss to my cheek before he jumps back with a shriek when I pin him with a death glare in response, felling marginally overwhelmed with all of this at once—not that I would ever admit such a thing aloud—Tiger smiles and winks flirtatiously at me in that awful way of his.

He is too funny when I am trying to remain pissed off.

“But it’s my turn with you today,” my beast grunts in that deep voice of his, and I subtly inhale his scent, his natural musk mixed in with something dark and leathery that must come from his body wash. I cannot believe I have allowed these men to reduce me to such a kind of person who does little things like this, but the odd pleasant shiver that rolls over me gratifies me too much to pass up on.

“Later,” I promise him, then add to get him moving faster as he is taking his sweet time, “If you set me on my feet right this instant. Believe it or not, I am attempting to have a . . . peaceful morning with you, and I am trying to listen to Scotty’s words. However, I will not be able to keep myself from slamming you onto the floor if you do not get a move on.”

His storm-grey eyes and nostrils flare in sync with desire.

“That was not me flirting,” I inform him when his thoughts try to convince him otherwise.

“Whatever you say, Havoc, baby,” he murmurs with a ravenous lick of his lips. Fortunately—or unfortunately for my outrageously aroused body, clearly—he does put me down, though, obsessive gaze roving all over me as he does.

“Good. Now—”

“Wait,” Cooper cuts me off, and I growl.

“My patience is starting to wear quite thin—”

“Vengeance, please. Please open the bond back up.” He doesn’t hide his vulnerability, and I falter. “I want to know all of you, and I fucking will.” Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath to cool the heat that had once again tried to seep into his tone. “Sorry,” he mutters as they open back up. “Just . . . please, let us help you. Let us know you. I would give you anything, HC. I give you all of me, all I have to give. Please give me, give us, all of you in return.”

Jaw working, I internally rip him a new one, calling him every name under the sun.

Tiger’s hand slaps over his mouth in my peripheral.

“Ezla, Love.” Scotty’s tone struggles to keep his amusement from it. “Thank you for opening up the bond again, but verbally attacking Cooper through it isn’t too different from saying this all out loud.”

Huffing while Cooper stares at me, unimpressed, I snap, “Fine.” I fold my arms over my chest and lift my chin so I can pretend I am not purposely avoiding their gazes but rather standing as tall as I am born to. “To answer the questions swirling through all your minds, I will put this simply. There are two reasons I like to have such a rigid schedule: One, I like the control, the power I feel, and the fact that it is the reason I am the way I am with my Score and part of the reason I am revered worldwide. Two . . .” I hesitate, and Scotty moves closer, hand out like he is about to place it on my lower back, but I step out of his reach.

The mood in the room plummets.

Fist clenching, Scotty clears his throat as if to remove a clogging in there, chin dipping as he brings his hand back to his side. His hurt is so strong, so soul-deep, from the perceived rejection, it feels as though I could reach out and touch it.

“Two,” I try again, averting my gaze as something like . . . nauseating guilt twists through me. It is a new feeling, that, and I truly despise it. I should not be able to feel such things. But these men are forcing me to feel a lot that I have not been able to before them. “It is . . . it is always the time I was . . . permitted to leave my fath . . . Joseph’s bed.”

A piercing silence descends.

Grinding my teeth, I try not to shift uncomfortably, glaring ahead.

Finally, Scotty groans, “Fuck, Ezla, Love. Please let me hold you.”

I flick my eyes to him, and he looks to be in agony.

I nod sharply.