Page 128 of The Bonding Games: Part 1

“I can feel your obsession—through the bond.”

Another step closer. “And my love?”

She doesn’t respond to that.

I run my tongue over the bottom of my top teeth. “I love you, you know that?”

Still no reply.

My eyes narrow slightly, but she turns around fully before I can demand she acknowledge my feelings for her, revealing the right side of her face, the savage luminous scar and that red iris, and a moan comes out my mouth instead. “Goddamn . . . you’re even more breathtaking up close.” Now before her, I reach up to stroke her face.

In a flash, her hand catches mine in a vice-like grip before I can touch her, and I ignite completely, loving the feel of her strong hold, her bare skin on mine.

Fucking hell, that was so hot.

“Ferocious goddess.” I grin, and I know she can see the delight and ardour in my gaze.

“Go back to your room, Player.”

My face falls in a heartbeat, chest constricting in a blend of anger and hurt.

She calls me that as though my fingers haven’t been stuffed inside her, as if we didn’t share something so precious and momentous to me less than forty-eight hours ago. As if I’m just some random Player in The Bonding Games with no significance to her, whose feelings don’t matter.

My fingers flex in her grip that never relents. “Player?” I repeat lowly, dangerously, as I step closer. “You know damn well I’m more than that.”

She drops my hand like it scorched her, eyes narrowing to slits. “Not to me. You mean no more than the rest.”

Nostrils flaring, I snap harshly, “Bullshit. I love you. I—”

“I am not here to appease your fragile heart. I am not to blame for you putting your infatuation on the wrong woman,” she says cruelly, voice colder than ice.

An animalistic snarl leaves me, and I shove myself into her with all my body weight, catching her off guard and pinning her to the onyx wall behind her. “Infatuation?” I seethe. “You really think this is infatuation?!” I rake my eyes over her obsessively before a hand snatches up her throat, wrapping around the slim column like a collar and tipping her head back. “I have been obsessed with you for five. Fucking. Years. I have been in love with you, for years! And you have the damn nerve to call it infatuation?! When you can feel me through the bond?!”

“Obsession. Love. I do not care. You will never have me.”

A bitter laugh leaves me, and I shake my head, control slipping and slipping. I don’t ever usually get angry with her, not for anything, but now I am pissed.

“Oh yeah? And what if I take you?”

She hisses like a black mamba. “Get. Your. Hand. Off. Me.”

My face dips even closer to hers, a palm pressing to the cool taalk beside her head. “Are you sure you want it gone? Don’t pretend like you can’t easily break my hold.”

Havoc stares me down.

I run my tongue slowly along my lower lip, breathing laboured as it narrowly misses hers. I want to kiss her so bad.

Let me kiss you, Havoc, baby.

She tenses, as if she heard that.

Oh, fuck yes. The love of my life is in my head.

And she’s not moving.

You want me. I know you do. Let me have you.

When I draw her in with the hand still encircling her throat, the flutter of her pulse seeping into me and enhancing my need to devour her . . . she doesn’t resist.