15
ALBY
I know the moment the bond snaps into place, because a tsunami of unmitigated, devastating fury tries to knock me off my feet.
And it’s definitely not mine.
But looking around, I realise many did not.
Bodies are everywhere. Littered all over the arena floor. With the regeneration serum in their veins at 0%, streams of crimson seep from them and the limbs strewn about with no identifiable owner.
Only about half the original number of Players are left standing.
Sadness weighs down on me, nausea flipping my insides over, and I search for any faces from Evot Training School 246 in the cluster of Players in the middle of the arena, the coppery tang of spilled blood snaking up my nostrils.
A huff of relief leaves me, some of the heaviness lifting when I find Jodine and Dex standing with the malevolent Player 59, and Iggy Benson beside a pale-skinned Exot woman and two others who I can’t make out too well from here.
But what’s not at all calming is the sight of Troy Hurst and Aider Cole stood with two other strong men emanating a deadly red glow.
My stomach falls through the ground.
No doubt, the two Exots they’ve bonded are just as bad as, if not worse than, them.
My attention is drawn back to the raging woman in front of me as she spews venom, screaming to be heard over the din of the crowd, whose attention seems to all be on our specific group—obviously because we’ve just bonded Ezla freaking Zefron and—
Oh.
My.
God.
I’m bonded to Ezla Zefron.
Holy shit. Holy fucking—
Another debilitating swarm of wrath crashes over me.
“I HATE YOU! I WILL KILL YOU ALL! I WILL MAKE YOUR LIVES HELL!—”
Wincing, I fight the urge to cover my ears.
It wouldn’t drown out the remorse ripping away at my insides anyway.
This isn’t the Champion everyone usually sees; she’s not cool or composed or taunting. Never before when I’ve watched The Bonding Games on TV has she been anything other than that.
“—CARVE OUT YOUR HEARTS AND KEEP THEM PRESERVED ON STAKES!—”
Ezla’s body turns to stone, every muscle pulling taut, cutting off her tirade as a barely audible pained sound escapes with that mechanical warp to it from her unique helmet.
I feel some of that pain zap through me, and I jump slightly.
“Ezla? Havoc, baby, what’s wrong?!” Player 4 steps right up to her, eyes now crazed in a different way than before—in horror at the thought of the Champion suffering. He leans down to meet her shorter height, hands almost swallowing her helmet whole as he cups it like it’s precious.
Until he’s knocked back by her headbutting him with a loud bonk! as their visors collide.
He jerks back, blinking . . . before huffing and muttering something about the love of his life not letting her future husband take care of her.
Okay . . . wow.
Tiger, his highly expressive features scrunched, brows pulled down low, sticks his face right in front of Ezla’s helmet next, as if wishing to be her second victim. “No, seriously, are you okay? I can feel—”
Her knee slams into his crotch.
“OWWWWW!”
With his voice echoing around the entire venue, my hands dart down to cover my own dick, bonding cubes digging into my palms. We have protection over that area, but, as just proven, that protection really isn’t top-notch.
Please don’t come for me next.
The moment I think the words, Ezla’s head snaps in my direction. I feel the scorching heat of her stare spearing into me through her taalk visor.
Oh . . . hells. Did I just . . . ?
I’d almost forgotten.
Mind communication.
Keep your eyes and hands to yourself, and I will not have to, a purring voice slides through my head.
My jaw unhinges.
Oh . . . my . . . god.
She’s in my head! And not just that, but her voice! I heard her real voice! And it’s . . . it’s beautiful.
Silky and smooth, every syllable works to seduce—
Seduce?
I’ve never thought about anyone like that before, voice or otherwise.
My entire face lights on fire.
Please, universe, tell me she didn’t hear that.
Luckily, the Showmaster’s voice surrounds The Dome at exactly that moment, saving me from the possibility of crippling mortification:
“Congratulations, Players, on surviving Game 1!”
The stands go wild, the stomping of feet and clapping of hands blending with deafening cheers.
“And what an unbelievable Game it was! One so magnificent it will be on the world’s lips for hundreds of years to come! One where our very own Champion . . . the unbondable, beloved Ezla Zefron . . . was bonded! And she’s now part of the biggest Bonded group we have ever witnessed!”
The woman in question lets out an enraged snarl and yanks herself free of the Gold brothers’ grip while they’re distracted with the announcement, the green Avri chains clattering to the ground as she tosses them off violently.
I momentarily fear for my life all over again, especially as she marches right for me.
But she doesn’t attack. Not because she doesn’t want to, I’m guessing, but probably due to the rules preventing any Bonded from killing another in their group unless they want to face the very real consequence of execution.
She only snatches her bonding cube viciously from my hand, encouraging a petrified yelp to sail from me at her proximity, before she spins on her heel.
“Baby, wait—”
Ezla doesn’t pause at Player 4’s gruff plea as she storms across the arena, ignoring everything and everyone around her in her mission to get to one of the doors that leads out of The Dome and into the main building of the Headquarters.
And I feel her unwavering fury simmering beneath my skin, moments from exploding again, the entire way there.