Page 52 of The Bonding Games: Part 2

Relief almost knocks me off my feet as she speaks for the first time, knees unsteady in an instant. There’s the major absence of any emotion, even worse than usual like her expression, but that doesn’t matter when she’s just given us her words, something to tell us she’s human and can function like one rather than a mindless machine.

“I wouldn’t be so sure. We pinned you down in training before, remember?” I tell her calmly, as if I’m stating a simple fact rather than a miracle case. As if that was easier than breathing and we could do it over and over again. If she were in her right mind, she’d know that although I think we could manage it with all of us again, her skills are still otherworldly, and it wouldn’t be so easy.

Nostrils flaring as she stares me down, a torrent of rage crashes over me this time. She’s glaring at me more malevolently than ever before, and I up the performance by pasting on an arrogant smirk, not missing Tate’s clenching fists in my peripheral. But he doesn’t pummel me into the taalk at our feet, so I think he realises what I’m doing here just like the others have, and he’s holding back on his urges to put me in my place for speaking to our Bonded this way in favour of bringing her back to us. “I mean, we might even match your Score soon—”

Hissing viciously, Ezla throws herself at me.

Alarmed yells spear through the air, but I catch her before my brothers can, hands grasping her wrists. She’s panting, silently seething up at me, and I know that height difference only ramps her wrath up another notch in this moment.

Leaning in closer, I pause with my eyes just inches away from those eerie ones of hers, studying them carefully. “Are you in there, Vengeance?” I whisper. “Come out and play.”

Baring her teeth at me, her only response is, “You will die. I will relish in the way your blood spills from your veins as I—”

Without thinking more on my next suicidal move, I slam my mouth onto hers.

Doesn’t matter what state she’s in, explosions still go off in every cell of my being as I taste that hot cinnamon for the first time since the Halfway Ball, since that beautiful night which feels like eons ago at this point. It’s been far too long that I’ve gone without her after barely even having her in the first place.

Tugging her into me, I attempt to lick into her mouth, but she bites down on my tongue hard, trying to sever the damn thing clean off, and I hiss. Blood coating my mouth, I yank my head back.

The room has fallen into a stunned silence, none of my brothers appearing to know what the fuck to do, unsure if I’ve gone mad or if this has done something when Ezla blinks a few times rapidly and shakes her head like she’s trying to clear it of some sort of fog. And I don’t know if I’m imagining it, but I could have sworn her left eye just flickered for a moment, her iris hinting at a peek of a stunning rich brown. I have no idea what the fuck’s happening there, how it could even do that, but that definitely didn’t seem like a bad thing.

“Yeah, you remember me, don’t you?” I husk, far from giving up. My hold on her tightens, and I draw her closer again. “Come on, Vengeance.” Her left iris is back to perfectly matching the other one when her gaze connects with mine again, and I press on, determined to see a hint of that coffee colour again, “I remember you, how good it felt to be with you, to taste you, to feel you pulsing around me.” Pausing, I wet my lips, absorbing every minor tick of her facial expression. “Or if you don’t remember that, how about how much I piss you off? How angry I make you when I see through your lies, and yet you can’t help but want me—”

More furious anger pounds down the bond before it’s smothered, a repetitive snake-like chant of kill, kill, kill, kill striking me over and over again as whatever this thing is takes her over completely once more.

We’re so attuned to her, no one misses the moment before she springs back into action, the minor shift. So when she tears out of my grip, every one of us is prepared to snatch her up.

But what we’re not prepared for, what we’d stupidly overlooked, is that Tiger having a hold of her armoury sticks has only given her easier access to them.

Turning all her attention on him, she doesn’t hesitate to break his wrist.

As the sickening crack and his agonised cry split apart the air, Ezla’s feet falter in time with Alby and Scotty’s cry of, “Tiger!” But she still manages to catch the armoury stick his involuntarily splayed fingers drop, it’s deadly hum entering the battle as she manifests her Avri into a lethal curved sword.

While Alby rushes to check on Tiger, Scotty jerks forwards, determined to contain Ezla. Even though we’ve all still got our Avri suits on with our own batons on our shoulder blades, having not done anything but eat, plan, and watch Ezla over the past two days, we still refuse to draw our own weapons, and that leaves us incredibly vulnerable. But despite my threats, I could never face her like that. Things are far from how they were in Game 1, before I fell for her hard and fast and discovered her past along the way.

Cursing, Scotty yanks himself backwards moments before the long sword can run him straight through, and Ezla’s dark hair whips out around her as she divides her attention between him, me, and Tate again. After all my training with her, I can definitely dodge a fair amount of hits, but it’s not all of them, and when they do connect, they’re bloody brutal, deflating all the air from my lungs, leaching me of my energy one hit at a time.

My limbs are shaky with adrenaline, and a bolt of true fear zaps through me every time that bloodthirsty blade gets too close to one of our unprotected heads. “Come on, Love! I know you’re in there! You— Your plan worked!” Scotty’s voice raises on that one, as if he’s just come to a groundbreaking realisation, and for a split second, he moves his attention to me. “What was Joseph thinking knowing that? He knows she’ll die too if she kills one of us. Unless he—”

The warning that builds in my throat doesn’t make it out before Ezla’s sword sinks into his stomach.

Or tries to.

The tip has managed to pierce his suit and skin, the blade sunk three inches deep, and the noise he makes is somewhere between stunned and pained. But Tate’s bleeding hand wrapped around the blade stops it from going any further.

Tiger and Alby had cried out too, but now, everyone has fallen into a suffocating silence.

Uncaring that he’s half impaled, Scotty reaches out to hold on to Ezla’s shoulder. She’s blinking rapidly again, her left eye switching back and forth between red and brown, and her grip on her armoury stick shakes. She’s as frozen as the rest of us as he reaches up with his free hand and rests his own trembling palm on the side of her face. “It’s okay, Love. There you are.” He’s clearly in pain, but he hardly seems to care, his breathed words only carrying rivers of relief and a soothing quality as we feel a strong surge of horror from the bond. He’s just been stabbed, and although it’s not immediately life-threatening, it’s definitely not fucking good. Yet all he cares about is getting our Bonded back, making sure she’s okay.

Abruptly, the red haze over Ezla’s iris clears completely. Her Avri demanifests before her armoury stick clatters to the floor.

Tate clenches his fist, but not fast enough for me to miss the large gash splitting his palm open. Blood drips onto the taalk as he brings his hand to his side when Vengeance snaps her eyes down first to Scotty’s abdomen, then to his fist.

It’s dead silent for too many beats.

Ezla appears shell-shocked.

I’ve never, ever seen her like this, never felt her emotions flow so freely down the bond, even in her accidental moments, or when she allowed us to feel her on the night of the Ball. It’s such a mess in her head, I don’t understand what’s going on in there myself, and I have no idea how she’s coping with the tumult.