Page 515 of The Bonding Games: Part 1

“I have made a new meal plan for you.”

She what? My eyes grow jumbo-sized.

“You need more carbohydrates and fatty foods. You can choose anything on this table as long as it has enough calories and contains enough carbs, protein, and fat overall.”

I know I look like a fish as my mouth rapidly opens and closes like a moron’s.

Then my eyes start to well up.

Oh no. Please don’t cry in front of Ezla.

But I can’t stop it, and I hastily wipe at the tears as they escape.

It’s been years—years—since I’ve had anything more than a meagre meal containing minimal flavour and portions. Eight years, to be exact—not including the rare times I got to have some good food when it was possible to visit my parents when I was trapped in Evot Training School.

Does she know how much this means to me?

Yes.

I almost jump out of my skin, only just managing to keep another embarrassing scream from escaping.

I’d forgotten for a moment that we can all communicate with Ezla through our minds. It’s been so quiet in mine after the immediate period following the bonding that I’d started to wonder if I’d imagined it, if maybe our instructors at school had got it wrong.

But no—that’s her. And that’s her real voice, too.

And I think I’m the only one here who’s heard it.

With any of the others, I suspect they would’ve said something—especially Tate. But I’ve never mentioned the fact I’d heard her voice in my head at the end of Game 1. It feels like a secret, something only I’ve had the privilege to hear out of the five of us. The majority of the world, even.

And now she’s graced me with another smooth, purring syllable that strokes my insides like a sensuous caress, gifting me a full-body shudder I can’t cloak.

It’s impossible to lie and say it doesn’t make me feel special. Other than my parents’, I’ve never been anyone’s first choice before, but she chose to speak into my mind, share something so intimate with me.

“Th-thank you,” I rasp, throat lacking any moisture.

“Eat,” Ezla repeats.

So I do.

***

“Hit me as hard as you can.”

“Wh-what?” Alarmed, I flit my widened gaze to the four men lining the wall of the private training room for help.

They offer none.

Scotty sends me an apologetic look; Cooper just looks grim; Tate isn’t even looking at me, only Ezla, and with a hungry look on his face as he bites his lip like he’s imagining it’s hers; and Tiger’s only reassurance is to give me a double thumbs-up.

Filling my lungs to the brim, I face Ezla again, nervous eyes trained on her seek helmet. She’s a few inches below me, and yet I feel like the smaller one of the two of us. “I . . . I . . . Okay.”

Quivering like a spooked kitten, I throw my hardest punch, even as everything within me thrashes about in protest at the idea of hurting her.

But my gloved fist meets nothing but air as she steps out of range without any effort at all.

Relief blows through me along with a flood of embarrassment as I bring my hand back to my side.

“Attack me.”