23
ALBY
Rubbing the sleep from my eyes even after I’ve showered and dressed for the day, I look up—
Only to have my heart evacuate my chest cavity, an ungodly scream tearing from my throat.
It’s a day after Ezla said she would train us, and I’ve been a nervous wreck ever since .
. . well, even more of one than usual. I’ve been mentally preparing myself for the hard lessons we’ll have again today, still bruised from yesterday’s but thankfully not in pain as I’ve taken an Avritab, which effectively numbs any pain present at the time the tablet is taken for the next twenty-four hours.
And yet nothing could have prepared me for the sight of The Bonding Games Champion sat in a chair at the dining table.
Angled to face where I’ve frozen in the open doorway between the lounge and the dining room, she sits with her arms folded over her chest and her spotless boots up on the table, legs crossed at the ankles.
She’s actually here. In our Bonded chambers. For the first time ever.
And I just screeched in her face.
Fire scorches my entire head and down my neck.
“I-I’m so, so s-sorry,” I gasp, palm on my chest to try and quiet the pounding there that I pray to the universe she can’t somehow hear. “I didn’t—I didn’t scream because it was you, ju-just because I didn’t expect you to be here,” I stammer out my pointless explanation like a total loser.
“I’m coming, Bestie! Don’t panic!”
Tiger rushes past me with a pillow in hand.
Was that really his first choice of weapon when there’s two armoury sticks attached to his back?
“OH MY GOD!” He ceases all movement when he takes in the cause of my humiliating reaction, pillow halted mid-motion beside his head. “Ezla!”
“What?”
The deep, rough voice comes from the other room. Then there’s heavy footsteps that get louder and louder, until they stop right beside me.
Tate’s breath audibly catches. “Havoc . . .” he breathes with what can only be described as pure worship in his tone.
“Player 4,” that robotic-like voice replies coolly.
A rumble builds from the pits of him, and I cautiously step away.
But then more footsteps sound out, two pairs this time, and Scotty and Cooper are there. Both pausing, their brows jump up before smoothing out almost in unison.
“Ezla,” the former greets, a hint of shock and pleasure slipping into his level tone even though he tries to hide it. And is that . . . a blush tinting his cheeks?
At least I’m not the only one turning red every time we see her.
Without comment on everyone’s shock, the object of all our fixation finally lets it be known why she’s made her astonishing appearance here: “Eat.”
A slow blink is all I can manage.
On my second blink, my eyes shift to the left, taking in the table properly like I didn’t before because every part of me was focused entirely on Ezla. And I freeze.
Oh . . . wow.
My mouth drops open, and my stunned gaze darts everywhere, taking in the large array of food: sausages, bacon, fruit, avocado on toast, eggs, pancakes and pastries of all kinds, smoothies, water, juice, milk, cereal, breakfast burritos, and more and more and more . . .
My gaze hops back to Ezla, then returns to the table, then jumps back again, bouncing about like a yoyo.
“Holy shit . . .” Tiger exhales in awe, voicing what we’re all thinking.
“This . . . this is for us?” I somehow manage to find my voice, although it’s quiet and shakier than ever before.
“Yes. You may count this as a cheat day; I have reviewed your diets, and it is best for all of you to stick to them for the time being. If you wish, that may of course change after The Bonding Games.” My heart starts to drop along with my head—until she continues, “All of you except for Player 29.”
My chin snaps back up faster than an Avri tribike at full speed.
“Come here, 29.”
I’m pretty sure my lungs break down.
Swallowing roughly, I force my legs to take me to her, wiping my palms that have started to sweat on my thighs as discreetly as possible. When I reach her, I stop as close as I dare, fighting a shiver at the proximity.
Why is it the first time I’m attracted to someone it’s a woman who could crush me with her pinkie while she’s sleeping?
“I have made a new meal plan for you.”
She what? My eyes grow jumbo-sized.
“You need more carbohydrates and fatty foods. You can choose anything on this table as long as it has enough calories and contains enough carbs, protein, and fat overall.”
I know I look like a fish as my mouth rapidly opens and closes like a moron’s.
Then my eyes start to well up.
Oh no. Please don’t cry in front of Ezla.
But I can’t stop it, and I hastily wipe at the tears as they escape.
It’s been years—years—since I’ve had anything more than a meagre meal containing minimal flavour and portions. Eight years, to be exact—not including the rare times I got to have some good food when it was possible to visit my parents when I was trapped in Evot Training School.
Does she know how much this means to me?
Yes.
I almost jump out of my skin, only just managing to keep another embarrassing scream from escaping.
I’d forgotten for a moment that we can all communicate with Ezla through our minds. It’s been so quiet in mine after the immediate period following the bonding that I’d started to wonder if I’d imagined it, if maybe our instructors at school had got it wrong.
But no—that’s her. And that’s her real voice, too.
And I think I’m the only one here who’s heard it.
With any of the others, I suspect they would’ve said something—especially Tate. But I’ve never mentioned the fact I’d heard her voice in my head at the end of Game 1. It feels like a secret, something only I’ve had the privilege to hear out of the five of us. The majority of the world, even.
And now she’s graced me with another smooth, purring syllable that strokes my insides like a sensuous caress, gifting me a full-body shudder I can’t cloak.
It’s impossible to lie and say it doesn’t make me feel special. Other than my parents’, I’ve never been anyone’s first choice before, but she chose to speak into my mind, share something so intimate with me.
“Th-thank you,” I rasp, throat lacking any moisture.
“Eat,” Ezla repeats.
So I do.
***
“Hit me as hard as you can.”
“Wh-what?” Alarmed, I flit my widened gaze to the four men lining the wall of the private training room for help.
They offer none.
Scotty sends me an apologetic look; Cooper just looks grim; Tate isn’t even looking at me, only Ezla, and with a hungry look on his face as he bites his lip like he’s imagining it’s hers; and Tiger’s only reassurance is to give me a double thumbs-up.
Filling my lungs to the brim, I face Ezla again, nervous eyes trained on her seek helmet. She’s a few inches below me, and yet I feel like the smaller one of the two of us. “I . . . I . . . Okay.”
Quivering like a spooked kitten, I throw my hardest punch, even as everything within me thrashes about in protest at the idea of hurting her.
But my gloved fist meets nothing but air as she steps out of range without any effort at all.
Relief blows through me along with a flood of embarrassment as I bring my hand back to my side.
“Attack me.”
I suppress the refusal that tries to make it past my lips and focus on the need to obey.
As just proven, she can protect herself without strain, and even if I did manage to make a blow connect, I doubt it’d do much damage.
My Score of 62 tells everyone my strength really isn’t paramount.
So, despite my reluctance to attempt to harm her, I shake out my limbs, fortifying myself as every cell within me charges up with determination.
And I lunge.
Soaring across the short space between us, I prepare myself to take her down, limbs outstretched—
My arms and legs wrap around her like a koala.
I don’t move a muscle, stunned.
Oh . . .
my . . .
gods . . .
This is the most mortifying experience of my lifetime.
I will never, ever recover from this.
As I’m mentally digging my own grave to comfortably curl up in for the rest of eternity, I’m dimly aware of the amusement I can feel radiating from the wall on my left. A cough pierces the silence that holds barely contained laughter.
Ezla herself stands perfectly stoic. Not one twitch of her muscles.
Then, ever so slowly, her hands find my waist.
I gasp. My entire body ignites, and I tighten my arms around her neck, instinctively pressing closer—
Until I realise she’s trying to pull me off her.
Oh.
For a moment, I’m so utterly humiliated, I simply go blank.
Stupidly, foolishly blank.
Then I scramble into motion like a bonfire has just been lit beneath my ass, landing on the floor in a heap.
I get back up as quickly as possible, hands coming up to frantically pat at my hair as if I think the electricity buzzing through my body from overstimulation may have made the raven strands stand on end, visible for all to see since we didn’t need helmets for today’s lesson.
Ezla only says one thing as I try to compose myself, revealing not a speck of what she’s feeling:
“Again.”
***
It’s a Sunday today, but we don’t get any reprieve. I’m not sure I’d even want one if I were given the option though—largely because Game 2 is on Friday and I want to be as prepared as possible, but also because it means spending time with Ezla.
In the private training room we used before and seemed to have claimed for our Bonded group—the other Players of TBG quickly getting the message with the Champion at our helm—we practice hand-to-hand combat again.
I don’t know if I’m just imagining things, but I could swear I’m already stronger, my techniques better.
It’s not like I’m an expert now, but I actually feel like I’m making progress, and fast. Ezla’s a great teacher, and I’ve never obeyed quicker than I do when she barks her commands.
The need to impress her is equal only to the need to impress myself; I want her to be proud of me, and I want to feel that pride too.
She has me on a new personal fitness plan that she’s told me she’ll go through with me an hour a day, splitting her attention when needed between the other guys to monitor their own plans, which she only tweaked around a little bit instead of giving them each an entirely new one like she did for me.
But mostly, her focus is on me, and after that became clear in our first session earlier this morning, Tate looked ready to explode with envy and turn my skull into a thousand tiny little shards of bone.
I, on the other hand, had insides all twisted with nerves, yet also piped full of a bubbly feeling that had me quashing moon eyes half the time.
I’m not sure if the others are jealous as well, but if they are, they don’t show it. And they’re more rational than Tate either way; I know they’re as aware as I am that Ezla’s extra attention on me is due to the fact I need the most work rather than any favouritism.
I’m also extremely happy with my new meal plan, and every time I eat, it’s a struggle to not get emotional as I get to taste all the foods I’ve been missing out on for years because of Aider Cole.
The only downside is the bloating, but I take Avritabs when the cramping gets too much, and Ezla told me they’ll both decrease in time as my body adjusts to the new intake and to just eat as much as I can from each of the items on the meal plan as long as it doesn’t make me feel too sick or pained.
To all our disappointment, she didn’t show up again in our Bonded chambers after providing the feast yesterday morning—the feast she didn’t join in on, leaving the moment we all sat down.
But she’s updated the options we can order on the screen beside the dumbwaiter, adding an entire boatload to my list, and she shows up for training each day without fail, ensuring we all have what we need—which she can no doubt do without issue when she’s the Game Master’s daughter—so we shouldn’t complain.
Especially when none of us expected anything like what she’s already doing.
But the more she gives us, the more we all seem to want.
“Watch out, Bestie!”
Too late, I start to move to the side.
Ezla’s on top of me in the next second.
All the air exits my lungs in an “oomph”, and it’s lucky I’m wearing my helmet because my head bounces off the hard taalk floor in a way that might’ve given me a concussion otherwise.
She’s floored me a humiliating number of times in this session, but she’s not actually straddled me like this until now.
I can feel every inch of her in that skintight red-Avri-glowing suit she wears: those strong, toned thighs, her smaller hands pinning my wrists beside my head in an unshakable grip, the heat of her body seeping into mine . . .
My throat shifts with a swallow, my natural blush expanding to my hairline, staining my ears, and I—
Oh.
Oh, wow. That’s . . . never happened before.
I’ve been in this position countless time before in EvTS when training . . . or very commonly used for humiliating examples before the entire class . . . and all I’ve previously felt is a mixture of embarrassment and fear, not—not the situation going on beneath the crotch of my suit.
Eyes wide and mixed with a cocktail of something needy and simultaneously the alarm that Ezla may recognise that something, I can only gaze up at her dumbly while my erection attempts to poke a hole through the sinthe and sinthine enclosing it.
I really hope the latter material is hiding it well enough.
Your hopes would be fruitless, that silky voice like satin swirls through my mind in a cloud of alluring midnight smoke.
I let out a high squeak, every muscle tensing.
Oh god! She knows!
More pressure bears down on my cock as she leans closer, chest drawing nearer and nearer to mine, and I whimper.
Her taalk-shrouded head tilts eerily as it pauses close to my face, and I see myself reflected back at me in her inky visor: my enlarged hazel eyes and their blown-out pupils, the blush on my face enhanced with her blackish-crimson Avri illuminating it.
I always know.
My heart stops.
And it restarts only to drop down when Ezla forcefully pushes to her feet, leaving me lying on the floor, stunned, as she leaves the room without a glance back.