Page 805 of The Bonding Games: Part 1

It kills me to, but I set her down gently, like she’s made of porcelain—a severe contrast to the way I’d handled her just moments ago—when she makes it obvious that’s what she wants. And before she can say anything to push me away from fear of someone getting too close—because I’m starting to get very, very good at reading her—I let all my vulnerability flow into my admission: “That was the best moment of my life, and I am . . .” I’ve never been great with words, but I want her to have all of them. “That meant everything to me, Havoc. My heart is yours, and if I could carve it out of my chest and give it to you without death coming to claim me and take me away from you, I would.”

Her distant mask is back in place, and she offers me nothing in return other than a blank stare.

I wait a moment, fingers twitching as they attempt to reach for her, entire body trembling with restraint. How the fuck am I meant to control myself when she’s right. Fucking. There?

My nostrils flare, teeth gritting. I don’t know how the hell I manage to stay in place, but I do. And I’m just waiting . . . and waiting . . .

Another beat, and I’m still receiving less than nothing.

Fuck, I can’t do it.

I reach for her—

Yanking myself around, I drag myself across the room, turning away from her. It fucking feels like I’m dying. Every step is a battle, but I’m trying to do this right. Because none of my attempts so far seemed to have swayed her. Not truly. I want her heart, need it to be complete. But she’s refusing to give me an ounce of it.

Tell me to stay. Don’t let me leave, Havoc. I’m yours.

My throat clogs up when my pleas are met only with silence.

I leave the room.

42

SCOTTY

“HAVOC, COME OUT! I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE! I CAN’T STAY AWAY! I CAN’T FUCKING DO IT! I COULDN’T SLEEP, COULD HARDLY BREATHE! I SWEAR I TRIED! BUT I NEED YOU! I’M NOT SOMEONE WHO CAN GIVE YOU SPACE! JUST GIVE ME YOUR FUCKING HEART! I’LL TAKE SUCH GOOD FUCKING CARE OF IT, I PROMISE!”

“What is he doing?” Tiger stage-whispers from beside me as we both observe Tate, looking at him like he’s insane.

Well, he might be, but that’s not the point.

“I don’t know,” I say warily, arms crossed over my chest. “Could he be having a . . . psychotic break? I don’t . . .” In all seriousness, I am concerned. Tate’s never appeared the most stable, and I worry he very well could be having hallucinations.

Alby’s door slides open with a gentle woosh, and the quiet boy himself comes out, still in his black pyjama top and shorts and rubbing at groggy eyes. At the same time, Cooper storms out of his own bedroom much more aggressively. “Bloody hell, what the fuck are you doing?” he grouches. “There’s still an hour before we’re meant to be up to get ready for training.”

Tate doesn’t seem to hear him. “I HAVE TO KISS YOU AGAIN, BABY! PLEASE! I’LL DO ANYTHING!”

My brows furrow. Hells, this is bad if he really thinks he kissed her.

“She’s not fucking here, man. Are you having an episode?”

“Cooper,” I snap, glaring at him for his insensitivity.

Tate finally whips himself around, only in his boxer briefs because he clearly couldn’t be bothered to put some shorts on. “I’m not insane. I—” His voice breaks, and everyone straightens, snapping to attention. “I swear I’m not fucking insane. Havoc is in there . . . I—I was with her last night. She came in the middle of the night, and I . . .” His entire face softens, and he almost has that dreamy look my brother always does around our Bonded that makes him appear as if he’s about to start picking flowers and skipping about in the grass they came from. “It was the best moment of my life. So precious. And she smelled like hot cinnamon again.”

“She what?” Cooper appears floored, and my brows dip even lower, the look now aimed his way rather than Tate’s. Then he chuckles to himself. “Holy shit,” he mutters under his breath. “HC.”

“HC?” Tiger asks, confused, his expressive face displaying his curiosity for the world to see. “What does that mean?”

Cooper’s head snaps up like he’d forgotten we were here, and Tate’s eyes narrow on him, all the focus now drawn to Cooper as his face turns red like I’ve never seen before. “Ah . . . uh . . .”

“Spit it out, dickface,” Tate mutters.

A scowl is thrown his way. “HC . . .” He scratches at his dark head of hair and looks away, not meeting anyone’s eyes as he mumbles, “It stands for ‘Hot Cinnamon’.”

It’s only a moment before the light bulb pings on in my mind. “Ah.” I smirk, rubbing a hand over my mouth to try and hide it.

Tate’s face is like thunder, eyes drilling into Cooper as though he could strike him down with the rampaging lightning bolts in them. “You knew? How the fuck did you know? You tasted my girl?”