Page 328 of The Bonding Games: Part 1

Tense looks are exchanged between us. We knew they’d been too quiet.

“So we kill them first,” Tate says gruffly, eyes sparkling with bloodthirsty excitement.

“Obviously.” The robotic-sounding word is deadpan.

“It is dark in Game 3, as you know,” Ez continues. “They think to use that darkness to their advantage. They have not been acting because they know you are under my protection and they would be dead within seconds if they hurt any one of you.” Ooooh, I just got the fuzzies and tinglies. “But their theory is there will be such low visibility that I will not be able to pin the kills on them.”

“And how do you know?” Scotty asks, not as if he doubts her, but more like his mind is working through everything and he needs as many details as possible to put a plan into place to keep us all safe as well as efficient, as he always does.

“I know everything.”

Scarily, I don’t doubt that, and no one contradicts her.

“So we will go in pairs. Nobody goes alone.”

We all nod steadily.

“4 and 17. 38 and 35. You each work best together, so you will have the highest chance at surviving and launching your own attacks effectively.” She pauses to bore her gaze into us her through her visor as if willing the words to drill themselves into our brains. She doesn’t need to do that when they already do no matter what she’s saying, but I do love the attention—it makes me wanna giggle and kick my feet. And sink inside of her.

My cock twitches.

Bad boy, I tell it. Now is not the time.

“Do refrain from talking to you dick whilst I am giving you instructions, 35.”

Whoopsies.

Scotty shoots me a scolding big-brother look, and I beam at him as he rolls his eyes and gives a shake of his head.

“29, you are with me.” My bestie takes on his tomato form, and Tate grumbles with jealousy before Ezzy—nahhhh, I’ll go with Wifey this time—continues, “You may spread out slightly in your pairs, of course. In fact, I’d advise you to do so unless you want to make yourselves an obvious target, but make sure you can always see the other.” She crosses one of her long, sexy legs over the other, and I hear Tate mutter something that’s not decent for my poor, sensitive, innocent, young brain.

I perk my ears up to listen closer.

Getting all the juicy bits about where he’d like her legs when her “greedy cunt” is sucking the life out of him, my dick nods along beneath the crotch of my suit with each throb.

“Remember, the regeneration serum is used again in this Game, but unlike in Game 1, it will react to how many times you are speared with an arrow.” I listen intently even though this is more a recap than anything, trying to ignore my aching groin. “You have three ‘lives’, so to speak, unless you are hit in the heart or, if you are stupid enough to somehow part with your helmet, your head. Then you are simply dead. Everyone clear on that?”

Murmurs of agreement sound through the room.

“Good.” She stands and strides for the exit. “Now, we will get in as much training as possible before the Game this afternoon. Come.”

***

We’re in a pitch-black box. The only lights are the green and red Avri on Players’ suits and bows and arrows and a few strips on the ceilings and walls to allow us to see by. But those are dim, just enough light for us to not be completely blind.

I can’t see anything but me and my brother right now because we’re behind one of the tall obsidian taalk walls standing sporadically throughout the construction; they’re of varying heights, some reaching the miles-high ceiling, while others only meet my hips, and I know the remaining twenty-six Players must be in similar positions to us right now. There’s also those freaky invisible cameras somewhere so the audience in the stands outside, along with the rest of the world, can see inside, otherwise they’d only be able to see a huge opaque rectangle in the middle of The Dome.

The Showmaster—Peter, the butt crack—announced the start of Game 3 just moments ago, and I’m not gonna lie, I’m close to shitting myself here.

“Easy, Tiger,” Scotty whispers, placing a hand on my shoulder. His Avri bow is in the other, the green of it like a beacon with its size and glow, even as he keeps it between his body and the wall, as hidden as possible.

Whoosh!

“Fuck!”

We both go still as that curse splits apart the silent air in a hiss that’s far too loud for this Game . . . and far too close.

It’s a female’s voice next, hers just as low. But again, too loud when there’s no other sounds. “Move! That almost hit your fucking heart!”