Page 798 of The Bonding Games: Part 1

“I—I am?” Alby’s question is muffled by the man on top of him, but it sounds pretty choked as me, Scotty, and Tate reach them.

“Of course!”

My focus moves to HC, but she doesn’t give anything away, and that damn helmet, no matter how hot and intimidating it looks on her, is pissing me right off. “Don’t care about us, huh?” I drawl.

Scotty sends me a scolding look, evidently fed up with my excessive bullshit today.

“You are next, 17.”

I scowl. “I’m not a number—”

“But I have had a change of plans,” Ezla cuts me off without pause, and my teeth grind. “Fall on purpose. You all need to know how to land safely on the back of an Avri jet in case you, for whatever reason, cannot stay on your own the entire time in Game 4. Plus, I think we could even up that to intentionally jumping from jet to jet, considering we have thirteen days to practice this time.”

We all gawk at her.

Tiger pulls Alby up to his feet, expression one of shock mixed with barely contained excitement. “Really?! You’re going to teach us to do that cool thing I’ve seen you do on TV?!”

“Maybe. I am not sure if I want to share that with you, though . . .” she muses, as if regretting the idea of exposing her tricks now that someone’s actually enthusiastic.

If that isn’t proof she only wants to torture us . . .

“No, Ezzy, don’t gatekeep! I’ll be such a good boy!” Tiger does prayer hands and an excessive number of lash-battings. “I’ve always wanted to be able to do that, but they never let us in EvTS!”

“Hm.”

And that’s all the response he gets, no indication in her tone whatsoever to tell us if that was a yes, no, or a maybe.

He pouts, and I can’t tell if he’s trying to be cute or express his upset, but either way, he ends up looking like a misbehaving toddler.

“17. Up now.”

Sighing, then whacking my ire in the head to tell it to fuck off and give me a bloody break today, I run and jump without argument like a perfect, loyal soldier, my dark green jet forming around me in a blink. Rising up so I’m halfway between the ground and the sky-high ceiling, I swivel around to face the little figures down below. “Now what?! I just fling myself off?!” I call out.

Ezla stares.

That’s a yes, then.

I’m mildly concerned she’s decided it’s my time and this is why she’s chosen this insane exercise.

“Okay,” I mutter.

I drop like a rock.

My stomach evacuates my body, and an involuntary yell soars from my throat as I tumble head over heels, nowhere near as controlled as Alby’s trip from his own jet. That’s just my fucking luck.

Abruptly, the wind is punched out of me as my stomach slams into the seat of Ezla’s Avri jet.

“Shit,” I wheeze, eyes watering.

“That was awful,” my Bonded informs me shortly, and my face heats in both annoyance and humiliation. “We need to work on your control.”

“No fucking shit.” Readjusting myself on the seat that’s been extended to make room for me, I straddle it before winding my arms around HC’s slim waist, temperature rising for another reason entirely when I realise this is the first time I’ve held her properly, the first time I’ve been so close to her. I discreetly inch a little closer, enjoying every inch of her back pressed to my front. “I’ve never exactly purposely drawn the Avri back into my pads in mid-fucking-air.”

“Clearly.”

I huff.

And so that’s how the rest of the morning goes, until other Exots and Evots start arriving, and Vengeance stops us at once, taking us out of the Air room and to the Ground one on the other side of the Training Centre, the door sliding away to allow us entrance.