Page 634 of The Bonding Games: Part 1

“A little weak,” I retort, flashing a fake-as-fuck smile for any hidden recording devices focused on us right now, as if the jab is all fun and games. Then I add for good measure, “Joseph.”

Yeah, he wants to bury me now, alright.

“Scotty.” Another hand slides in front of me, and I internally roll my eyes at the peacemaker but acknowledge it’s probably wise I let the bastard of a man go before he forgets to give a fuck about the audience and lops my head clean off my shoulders.

Grip relenting, I shove my hands into my pockets to stop myself from smacking the lights right out of him.

Scotty takes my place, but I can tell he’s finding it hard to keep his usual calm and collected demeanour, his jaw tense like he wants to bash the fucker through the ground right along with me.

HC’s sperm donor doesn’t say anything, only eyes Scotty with a quiet, unsettling look as they shake hands firmly.

I’m happy when a wince is pulled from him when my new brother adds more pressure than necessary too.

When they part, no one else offers a greeting, and I can’t tell whether Joseph prefers that or feels slighted.

“Well, come give your old man a hug.”

A deep, monstrous rumble sounds from my side where Tate stands, and Scotty shoots him a warning look in spite of his own white-knuckled fists as our Bonded steps forwards, her reluctance not visible but tangible to me and the other men. As I watch, her father all but kisses her on the fucking lips, skimming the damn corner as he pulls her in for a one-armed hug. His hand moves low on her back before accidentally brushing her ass through her dress.

It’s evident he’s aware we’ve got some idea of what he does to our Bonded. And instead of hiding it, he’s flaunting it. Attempting to assert his ownership.

I’m breathing like a bull ready to charge for the red flag, and he’s that fucking scrap of fabric right now.

Tate’s restraint vanishes, and he lurches forwards. “You’re dea—”

Just then, a robotic voice fills the room, and I lunge at breakneck speed, practically carrying Ezla from her father when it announces the dancing will now begin, my arm firmly wound around her waist as I lead her far, far away, vision crimson and splotchy from the tempest rampaging through me. I don’t care for her protests, nor the promises of death she fires down the bond—she’s not going to spend another second in the vicinity of that piece of shit. I won’t allow it. I swear to god, I’ll chain her up in our Bonded bedroom, but I’m not having her spending one more night in the same place as him. Over my dead fucking body.

Ezla seems sure we can’t kill him, and I’d be stupid to test her intelligence, so I won’t try anything—not yet—but space from that monster is necessary if I want to achieve that restraint.

I’m vaguely aware of Tate spewing venom and hissing under his breath as Tiger, Scotty, and even Alby work to get him under control, having to drag him along after us, but I’m too focused on our Bonded to worry about the attention he must be drawing—not that it ever left us.

Does he touch you like that often? I seethe down the bond as the music starts to play the opening song for the Bonded dances, sure that either the force will be enough to get the words to her or Ezla’s kept her walls down. The crowd’s now parted so that only Bonded groups are in the middle of the room, and I notice a few Players from TBG pass by my peripheral as I lift my arm up straight, fingers pointed towards the high ceiling.

Vengeance mirrors me while my new brothers form a sort of circle around us, and if the spectators are bothered that it limits their view, they don’t show it, no doubt too afraid of what our Bonded will do to them if they voice any complaints. It was accidental, she lies to my face—which I’m sure looks like a demon’s at this point, my temper barely kept in check.

Our palms hover an inch away from each other’s as we begin to circle one another, and it feels like the dance is mimicking our internal battle, just like it’s meant to reflect the tension between Evots and Exots in Game 1 when they’re opponents. I snap, Don’t fucking lie to me, Vengeance. I’m not blind like the rest of the world—the Game Master is a pervert. Tell me what else he’s done to you.

I will hang you by your intestines from the chandelier.

I smile sarcastically, all my emotions leaking out of me like a broken tap. Always either a threat or complete avoidance, right? Why don’t you sleep in our Bonded chambers? Are you not allowed? Do you sleep next to someone else?

In my mind, she snarls, and I admit, I do momentarily fear for my life. But I won’t let up. The harder she tries to push me away, the harder I’ll push back, seeking and demanding more.

Am I right, HC? Has he touched you? Tell me what he’s done!

In the dance, our palms finally connect, much more forcefully than they should, her nails biting into my skin and making my cock stir, even in this moment.

I will kill you.

That one wasn’t very creative, now, was it? I taunt, wanting her to snap, to unleash herself on me and let out every secret which torments her.

Her growl rattles the walls of my mind, and I actually think she may be so pissed she can’t conjure her usual impactive threats.

My hands latch onto her waist a beat too soon before they’re meant to, but I really couldn’t care less as my erection presses into her through my trousers. The Avri suits make it harder to tell when I’m aroused—not that that would stop her from noticing anyway—but now there’s nothing hiding the bloody steel pipe that’s been insistent to sink inside of her since she came out of her room earlier. Since way before that, if I’m honest.

I’m not usually so bold like Tate, but whenever my temper boils over, I act irrationally, and I don’t hide the desire in my eyes as I tip my chin down to stare directly into Ezla’s mismatched ones. “I want you, Vengeance,” I murmur, and she blinks, caught off guard for once. “I know I don’t always show that as well as your other men, but I do.” I pause, making sure she understands how serious I am on my next point: “But that includes all of you. I want every part of you. Won’t you give me that?”

I think she’s trying to telepathically stab needles into my eye sockets.