42 #2
Mismatched eyes slide to him and glare with the malevolence of a creature of hell.
He smirks.
She turns away from him to face the rest of us. “Thank you for asking why I am here. Truly efficient,” she says, deadpan.
“Why are you here?” Alby rushes out from where he stands by the wall near me, as if the question had been dying to be set free but he’d been too scared to let it, his slim fingers twisting together nervously.
And when Ezla’s gaze deliberately comes to rest on him once more, he shakes his head to try and get some of his ebony hair to cover his face, but it’s not quite long enough to be effective.
“I came here to tell you that I am no longer indisposed this morning.”
We all perk up.
Yesterday, she’d told us we’d start training an hour later this morning, and it was as much of a relief as it was a disappointment, the former because she works us to the bone—not that I truly mind when it provides such noticeable results—and the latter because that meant less time with her.
She didn’t deign to divulge what exactly would steal her attention from us and take her from training when she’s so devoted to it, but she was clear in her words. So I wonder what changed?
“Why not?” Tiger asks eagerly, and I’m just waiting for his tongue to hang out and wag with the puppy-dog expression on his face as he leans forwards even though he’s across the room from her.
“Because my massage therapist has cancelled. I usually have him two or three times a month.”
We all go rigid, and every part of my focus narrows down to that one little word:
He.
A growl like a grizzly bear’s emanates from Tate, and I almost let loose one of my own. “Another man touches my girl three times a month?” he seethes, the sizzling glare in his eyes coloured green with envy to match the energy on his suit.
“Is that not what I said?” our Bonded drawls, unfazed as always.
“I don’t want another man touching you, only us,” Alby whispers, and my brows shoot up along with everyone else’s as I cast a quick glance at him. But I’m unable to linger there, too consumed by my own possessiveness.
“Agreed, Bestie.” Tiger’s face forms a pouting scowl.
“I also agree, Vengeance,” Cooper mutters.
I nod firmly, as though that decides it all and we’ll be able to keep her from even looking in another man’s direction ever again.
Of course, she doesn’t give a shit what we want.
“Are you done? I think you all know that I do not particularly care about your petty concerns,” she says blandly.
“Petty? You’re our Bonded.”
“And what, Player 17? That does not mean anything—many Bonded groups are platonic.”
“Not us,” he insists, and I’ve never seen him be so forward as the rest of us—of course, not including Alby, who’s sporting his usual flush after his most recent words. “Don’t pretend we’re platonic. I think we’ve all made it pretty damn obvious we want you, HC.”
“I have said nothing about wanting you in return.”
Tate snarls and grabs the back of her neck, yanking her forwards, and she bares her teeth at him but, shockingly, doesn’t immediately pull away.
I’ve tensed anyway, ready to intervene if necessary.
“You seemed to be singing a different tune a couple nights ago, Havoc.”
Her jaw clenches, but she doesn’t respond.
“Yeah, you came so fucking pretty for me, didn’t you?” he purrs now, voice dropping.
I can see the scathing remark building up behind her tongue, but she doesn’t get the chance to leak her pretty poison before my brother steals the show.
“We should massage you!” Tiger blurts, near a shriek, and I jump a little before turning a raised brow on him.
I don’t mind that idea. Not at all.
Fingers wrapping unforgivingly around Tate’s wrist, Ezla moves his hand away from her neck before turning one of those looks on my brother. “You know how to give a massage?” she draws out slowly, already knowing the answer.
Sheepish, he shifts in place, then flashes a huge grin.
“No . . . but I’m sure we could learn! We’re all fast learners, right, guys?
!” His head spins around in circles as he drills imploring looks into all of us.
But it isn’t necessary—every man here wants the chance to get his hands on her.
She’s always so out of reach, and Tate, the lucky bastard, is the only one who’s been able to cross the distance.
Immediately, our heads bob up and down like those old toys with wobbly square heads.
“Hmmm . . .”
We all hold our breaths at that silky hum, and my fists clench at my sides.
I’m sure this scene would look comical to others, but it’s clear no one here cares. We all have it ridiculously bad for her, and I wouldn’t change a thing.
“Please, Havoc, baby. I’ll be so good.”
That was extremely unconvincing—he’s licking his lips and blatantly adjusting his dick while punching his hips up.
Subtlety is not his strong suit.
“Fine.”
“Yes!” Tiger cheers at once while relief and anticipation buzz beneath my skin.
Rising from her seat with Tate launching out of his own in the same millisecond, Ezla strides out of the room and towards the hallway which leads to our bedrooms, and we all follow like eager pups. She walks . . . and she keeps walking.
Right to the huge room facing us at the end of the hall.
Our Bonded bedroom.
My heart skips several beats.
Opening the door with a scan of her thumb on the side panel, she steps through the doorway.
Since this door doesn’t close automatically with the setting it’s on, I scan my own fingerprint on the panel on the inside wall once everyone’s followed, and the onyx door slides back into place with a soft swoosh of air.
And when I turn to face the room, all I can see is my Bonded peeling her Avri suit from her lithe body.
She’s shameless and efficient while five sets of eyes gawk at her.
When she’s left in only her underwear, she goes a step further and removes her bra.
Fucking Christ.
I quite literally salivate for her.
A soft whimper from Alby and a filthy, ragged groan from Tate enter the otherwise-quiet air, joined by Cooper’s, mine, and my brother’s curses as we take in those perfect little tits and those dusty-rose nipples peeking through the strands of her long chestnut hair.
Without any discomfort at being so exposed, she turns around and gives us an equally stunning view of her back, her ass on full display in her seamless thong.
Tongue running over my lip, I promise myself I’ll get a handful of that soft flesh the moment I can.
Like a black panther, she slinks onto the huge bed covered in obsidian silks and piled high at the headboard with plump pillows. My eyes are glued to her swaying ass and hips as she craws into the middle before coming to rest on her stomach, stretching out languidly.
Prowling forwards, Cooper and Tate both make the first moves, their chests rising and falling as obviously as my own heaving one.
The former shifts onto the bed on his knees to reach our Bonded in the centre, movements near reverent as a hand reaches out to gently smooth her dark hair off her back, the strands stroking her skin until he sets them carefully to the side.
I notice when Tiger all but skips over to the drawers beside the bed, passing by in front of me, that he’s pulled the rest of his Avri suit down rather than up, leaving him in his boxer briefs as he rummages through the oils and lubes drawer up top.
I’m debating stripping myself, but this is all about Ezla, and I don’t want to insinuate that I want more here, even though, of course I do.
But I’m also more than happy to simply be close to her in any way, elated to have this special moment that she’s shockingly given us permission for.
Tiger looks over his shoulder, a bottle of oil in hand. “Ezzy, what scent do you want?”
“Cinnamon,” Tate and Cooper both answer simultaneously for her.
I can feel her eye-roll from here, but she doesn’t object, so Tiger takes that as a yes.
Keeping the cinnamon-scented oil in his grip that he’d already had ready, like he also knew she’d want that one, he trots over and plops himself beside Cooper, Tate somehow now half-naked just like my brother and kneeling on Ezla’s left.
Then I move my attention to Alby.
Eyes wide and pupils blown out, he looks terrified yet as keen and aroused as the rest of us, his usual blush swallowing him whole and his breaths coming out in rapid little bursts. He’s trembling, and I know he wants to touch our Bonded and be as included as the rest of us.
More than willing to help him, I walk over to him and place a hand on his shoulder, and he jolts a little. With a bit of amusement and plenty of understanding at how absorbed he was by the sight on the bed, I say, “Want to get on? You could do one of her arms,” I suggest with a raised brow.
“Uhhh . . . yeah. Sorry, I feel like I’m getting more nervous by the day here. Ezla is just . . . she’s so . . . her. And I’m so . . . me.” He scratches awkwardly at his head, and a needle jabs me in the chest.
“Alby . . .” I begin quieter, tightening my hand on him and pushing my face into his line of sight so he’s forced to look at me and see the sincerity in my eyes. “You are enough. You’re perfect for her. You fit into the group seamlessly—you belong here. You—”
“Alby.”
I’m gone from his mind so fast you’d think I never existed at all.
And that’s completely fine as we all snap our gazes to Ezla as she looks over her shoulder at my quietist brother. He stumbles forwards like someone shoved him, scrambling for the bed. “Y-yes? You . . . said my name again?”
Yes, she did. And I very violently bat any jealousy to the other end of the planet to place my happiness for Alby up front where it belongs.
Even if it kills that my name hasn’t formed on those rosy lips yet. Not once.
“I did,” she confirms, intense stare boring into him. “Now be a good boy and get to work on my thigh.”