Page 148 of The Bonding Games: Part 1

They have stolen my shoes.

Scotty sighs as he gently smooths his hand over my hair once more, and I internally chuff like a lioness. The tenderness admittedly encourages me to leave his fingers bloody stumps, but I discard that in favour of being pampered. I do enjoy making slaves of these men. He asks just as softly as his movements, “How are you feeling? Do you know what happened?”

Beginning to remember everything that occurred in the private training room and the following blackness— my mind quickly scanning over what may have prompted it and landing on the knowledge Father likely received news of my beheading of Player 24, took that as me professing my undying love for my Bonds, and grew pettily jealous, to which I mentally roll my eyes—I promptly dismiss his concern and ask, “Who undressed me while I was unconscious?”

Cooper coughs into his fist while Scotty grimaces. “Love, did you have to say it like that? We just wanted you to be comfortable and check nothing under your Avri suit was hurting you.”

Hm.

“Uhhhh . . . we thought you wouldn’t mind too much with how confident you’ve been in showing us your body—rightfully so, by the way, Wifey.” Tiger winks.

I stare.

“Were we wrong? We also couldn’t, ah, get into your room . . . obviously. So we kind of had to . . .” Scotty’s warm-ivory cheeks gradually gain colour, and he rubs at the back of his neck.

Oh, this will be good. I am always amused when the put-together one loses his composure around me. It is delightful.

“He dressed you in his clothes—his pyjamas,” Cooper supplies helpfully.

I blink.

Then internally, I sigh once again. Ezla, you should truly be ashamed of your lack of awareness today.

Displaying none of that on my face, I flick my eyes down.

“They are too big,” I inform them of the obvious as I stare down at the plain black T-shirt and shorts on my body.

“Ah . . . yes, Love—I am bigger than you.” I can tell this pleases Scotty immensely.

It is not for nefarious reasons either; I have noticed he likes how portable and easy to hide I am. However, I neither need to be carted about nor hidden.

Although he may need to be hidden from me if he keeps thinking these ridiculous things.

“I’d never wish to restrain you, Ezla. That’s not it at all.”

It seems I have accidentally dropped my walls again. I whip them back up.

“It would not be easy to grab me if you dared try. My size actually works against you—I am agile.”

Scotty’s lips twitch. “True. Maybe I just like the idea of swallowing you up in my arms while I take care of you.” But he frowns then, as if not liking something about his words. “But my feelings for you have nothing to do with your size or general appearance at the end of the day, despite how devastatingly stunning you are.”

Tate puts in, “I just want my Havoc in any way, shape, or form.”

“Even if she were a slug?”

“What the fuck, Tiger?” Cooper mutters.

“Yeah,” Tate grunts. “She’d be a deadly, hot slug.”

“How the bloody hell can a slug be deadly?”

“Because it’s Havoc—”

Scotty looks incredulous, and I slip into his mind.

Why the fuck have we started talking about slugs?

“I do not know. I am not a slug,” I answer him out loud, considering removing these Evots’ tongues for such disrespect, and he startles a little.