Page 350 of The Bonding Games: Part 1

It was the best I had ever felt.

Sometimes, I used to wish I had a mother, back when I was younger. But now I know anyone willing to be with my father would be just as bad as him, and I definitely don’t need another fucking demon in this penthouse. As it is, I came to being through IVF, and even if I did want to find my biological mother, she was just some randomer.

A randomer my creator probably murdered to ensure I had no one but him to ever turn to.

Glancing down at my father’s figure in bed beside me in the dark room, my eyes flick to his neck, and I imagine strangling the life out of him, suffocating him just as he did me the day before my eleventh birthday.

But I can never get to the fun part because he can sense it before it happens.

Eyes popping open, he is on top of me faster than I can blink, hand wrapped around my throat.

“Daughter . . . did you forget that the Avri in your eye allows me to sense when you wish to do me harm?”

My jaw clenches. “You know I constantly wish to do you harm.”

He tuts, trailing a palm up my side, and my stomach revolts. “Bold tonight, I see,” he says like he is as excited and amused as he is pissed. Then, “The difference is it is the middle of the night, and you very well could do me harm if I am not prepared to defend myself.”

“Then maybe put me in another room so I am not in the perfect position to do so,” I grit out, trying to keep my temper in check how I have become mostly good at with him, but I cannot find it in me tonight to keep my mouth shut.

“Careful. You know I enjoy you all fiery, but there is a fine line between my excitement and anger,” he warns lowly, fingers coming to pinch and twist my nipple harshly, and I hiss at him like a feral cat, swinging before I can stop myself.

His head snaps back as my fist makes contact, and he curses while I scramble off the bed, tensed and ready for the usual pain to crack my head apart.

But it does not come.

My eyes track him warily as he lets out a short huff of a laugh, his dark gaze coming back to mine as he licks up the blood dripping onto his lip from his nose. A bruise would pair nicely with that, but, being the Game Master, he has Avri pills specifically made for him that are not shared with the world which heal injuries like that instantly.

They are the same ones he forces me to take every time he marks me to hide what he has done, even though I have my helmet and Avri suit for that.

He would not want me to embarrass him by limping around with a broken leg.

As if I would ever limp, I scoff internally.

Like all Avri, those tablets do have their limits, though. And I imagine cutting his neck open with my preferred crimson daggers and watching him try to pop a pill then.

“Still wanting to hurt me?” Father hums. “Tell me—what exactly are you thinking?”

“Nothing you would like.”

“And what would you like?”

My eyes snap to his.

He smirks. “I can tell you are even more unsettled than usual as of late. So what can I do to fix that?”

He does not care how I feel, not unless it concerns his delusional want for me to desire him as he does me, so this is not because of that. It seems I may be pissing him off too little to punish, yet too greatly for him to be content with.

Hmmm . . . good work, Ezla.

“Let me go?” I deadpan.

“Funny.”

Ignoring the itchiness of my skin as I feel the intensity of his slimy gaze roam all over it, I start to walk around the room languidly, trying not to tense up at every gentle rustle of sheets behind me. “I would like more freedom. I grow tired of this, Father. How can I be happy with you if you do not give me what I desire?”

“And why am I not what you desire?”

I pause, thinking over my answer with care. “Because I cannot feel desire.” Lie. “I either feel nothing or wrath. You know this. That is how you made me.”