Page 524 of The Bonding Games: Part 1

Then I collapse to the taalk, back on the hard surface and limbs splayed out to really sell the act.

I hold my breath, waiting for her to fall into my trap and save me, to nurse me back to health.

I’m waiting . . . and waiting . . .

Frowning, I peek one eye open.

She hasn’t moved an inch.

“Ezla, please save me!” I try again, deciding to put some emphasis on my pained expression, scrunching my brows and bringing tears to my eyes—which isn’t too hard because damn that blow hurt—then widening my eyelids to make sure she sees just how the moisture makes the blue irises shine so prettily.

She moves over, crouching down, her helmeted head inching closer to mine.

My insides swell with excitement. My plan is worki—

“You should know that the only thing you will ever need saving from is me. I am not the hero in your story, 35. All of this is for my own gain. And you are wasting my time. Get up.”

Yeah, that did not go as planned.

Halfway to Ezla, I look up.

And stop dead.

Sitting on one of the weight benches with one long leg crossed over the other and her lithe arms folded over her chest, her figure emanating an inky-crimson glow from the Avri on her form-fitting black suit, Ezla’s attention is fixed solely on me. I can feel her eyes penetrating me through the taalk shielding them from me, her stare taking in every millimetre of me, the way I’m looking up at her, the way I crawl to her . . .

Oh.

Oh.

Internally, I smirk. Externally, I lower my gaze submissively, and I keep crawling forwards, much more aware of my movements now: the curve of my spine, which I make sure arches more dramatically; the pace of my approach, which slows marginally; the sway of my hips, which I’m sure to make a tad more obvious . . . And when I sink my teeth into my lower lip and flick my eyes back up to Ez, looking up at her from beneath my lashes . . . I’m pretty sure I do it right.

When I reach her, I settle on my knees at her feet, sitting back on my heels and folding my hands neatly in my lap. And even though I can feel the amused and bewildered looks of the men around me, vaguely noticing my brother rubbing a hand over his mouth to hide his smile, I don’t take my attention off Ezla. Not even for a second.

For a while, no one disrupts the quiet, and I wonder if Ez will acknowledge my actions at all. It’s noiseless for one second . . .

two . . .

three . . .

“Good boy.”

Fireworks explode all around.

My heart leaps, and it leaps right into her hands.

Entire face lit up with my joy, I can’t help but flick my eyes over to my two best friends to share it with them, first to my brother, who raises a brow and gives me a small smirk, and then to Alby, whose lips are parted like he’s trying to taste Ezzy’s praise in the air and gobble it up for himself. So I give the latter an encouraging nod, smile widening as I bob my head vigorously.

He scrambles to his knees as well.

Copying my position, he looks up at our Bonded with round, dazed eyes as though she has him in a trance he can’t and doesn’t want to snap out of.

“Fuckers.” Tate’s rough voice comes from my left as he shoots down to his own knees faster than should be possible for a man of his size, obviously pissed he didn’t think to kneel before our goddess first.

Cheeks hurting from so much grinning, I turn my head back in my brother’s direction.

But he’s not looking at me. Only Ezla.

Like a lot of the time, his face is pretty unreadable to most. But I can see the cogs turning in his head, the twitching of his hands, the shift in his leg.