44
TIGER
“Wooohoooo!” My ass slams down on the seat behind Ezzy, and I wrap my arms around her waist tightly with a grin splitting my face wide open. “Aced it!”
Diving to the ground, Wifey pays no mind to my responding shrieked whoop that’s a mixture of excitement and surprise. And minor terror. But I know she’d never want to toss this hunk off her jet—she’d be too lost without me.
I would not.
“Ez! You’re in my head!” I cheer, unconcerned by her continued denial of our love. Like a panda, I snuggle closer, closing my eyes and absorbing her with the efficiency of a green sponge.
Get it? ‘Cos I’m glowing green?!
I sigh happily. “Love you, Ezzy,” I mumble into her back.
She goes rigid.
A pang of concern oozes through my sunshine, and a furrow forms between my brows as I crack my eyes open.
Did I do something wrong? I know that’s the first time I’ve said it aloud, but doesn’t she already know? She can read all my thoughts and feelings whenever she pleases since I don’t know how to block her like she does us. Not that I’d ever want to cut out my future wife in any way.
Shaking it off, I decide she just needs more time to accept this, and I hold on to her even tighter as we land on the glossy taalk floor in front of the rest of my brothers, Ez tapping my thigh twice to get me moving. And it definitely gets something moving alright. My dick does a standing ovation.
“Tiger,” she says tonelessly, but it’s the most amazing thing she’s ever said.
Yesterday, something changed. Nightshade is still as sexily cruel and brutal as ever, and she’d immediately demanded we train once she’d come down from the orgasm my bestie gave her—but she’s slipped a few times, calling me “Tiger” and Alby by his name rather than his number, too.
Of course, the others’ jealousy was through the roof, but I know they were secretly dancing around with party hats on inside because they’re all aware of how big of a step this is in the right direction.
“Uh-huh,” I say, very inconspicuously rolling my hips against her ass while simultaneously pressing my pounding chest as close to her back as possible, attempting to push my heart into her so she can feel all my affection.
“First, you lack any subtlety.” Oops? “Second, we have things to do. Off.” Ezzy slaps my thigh harder this time.
Rawr. Spicy, I like it.
Her helmet slowly turns to the side, and I know it’s my time to flee the scene.
Blowing her a kiss, I leap elegantly from the crimson Avri jet and land on my feet like a spring chicken, giving my hips an extra sway because I know she loves my body and the way it moves.
Especially my lip biting that I think I’ve perfected and which I practice now as I approach the other Evots, Cooper looking unimpressed as I do, but whatever—he has no sense of style or sensuality anyway.
He should be ashamed of his efforts. Or rather, the lack of them.
After demanifesting her Avri and landing on her feet in a way I’ll admit is a little cooler than how I did, Deadly Nightshade heads over, and I flash my most stunning smile to melt the little black thong I’m sure she’s wearing right off.
“Come,” she says, and I already know the next words I’ll hear:
“In your pussy?” Tate bites his lip, and I frown. I’m not sure if mine looked like that, so I’ll probably have to practice more again later. He then says, “Hey, Havoc, baby? When you gonna stay in our Bonded chambers again? Once was not enough.”
Ignoring him, she leaves the room with the five of us hot on her heels, and I link my arm with my bestie, who gives me a small smile while Ez takes us across the Training Centre and to the private room we claimed as ours weeks ago, Tate grumbling about not getting a date set with her.
A prickle of awareness tickles the back of my neck, and I turn my head to see Fee-Fi-Fo-Fum with his gang of orangutangs by the wall that gives way to the climbing ropes, treadmills, and sparring mats section, his face twisted into an ugly glare.
Grinning, I unlink my arm from Alby’s and flip the elephant off with both hands, sticking my tongue out, too, because I know that’ll piss him off even more.
And if his stupid response is any indication, it does.
“Fucking spaz!”
The words bounce off me—I’ve long since got used to them, and they hardly affect me anymore.
But the same cannot be said for the rest of my Bonded group.
In unison, every single one of them whips around, Tater Tot snarling like the beast he is—though I now love said beast as a brother rather than seeing him as an actual threat to me—Alby looking unusually furious with a glare I didn’t know my sweet bestie was capable of, Scotty as thunderous as always when someone insults or mocks me, and Coops cracking his knuckles like one of those cool heroes in a TV show.
But it’s Ezla who takes my breath away.
In full Bonding-Games-Champion-mode, she’s whipped her lithe body around and has her Avri manifested from an armoury stick too quickly to track accurately, an inky-crimson glow already blurring across the room with lethal accuracy.
And slicing clean through Troy’s neck.
The room is plunged into a brutal, stunned silence, any Bonded group nearby watching as, for a second, his head stays balancing, the cut so fast and clean it didn’t cause the immediate toppling.
Then his body tips forwards. His severed head parts with it with a thud and a splash of blood, the puddle quickly expanding.
More silence.
Then—
A female scream rings out as Evots and Exots run away like they’re next on the Champion’s hit list, leaving the Training Centre completely, while Aider and the two Exots in the dead man’s Bonded group stare down in horror at the body of their .
. . friend? I’m not sure if bullies possess the qualities to even be friends with each other now that I think about it.
It’s more like a . . . mutually beneficial agreement to form a squad of assholes and maximise said assholeishness. Yeah, that’s right.
Slowly, Aider backs away, and the two remaining dogs of his follow, further proving their lack of care for Fee-Fi-Fo-Fum as they scurry out of the Training Centre like rats on the tail of the last of the other bunch of Players.
Now the only remaining Bonded group in here, me and my brothers stare at the dead . . . thing.
Then we all look at Ezla.
She stands there stoically. “I apologise, Alby, if you would have preferred to have them both. I was growing much too tired of the ogre.”
Five sets of eyes blink.
Eerily, our Bonded’s helmeted head turns in Alby’s direction. “You may still have Player 22’s life.”
My bestie squeaks. “U-uh—oh! Thank you!”
More silence.
She just . . . That was for me. She was angry for me! Protective of me!
My heart explodes into a cloud of glitter.
WOOOOHOOOO! Oh, she so loves me!
“You just . . .” Cooper seems at a loss for words, so I provide them as always.
“Of course I’ll marry you, Ezzy! That was the best proposal! So you!” I throw my arms around her neck and smack a loud kiss to her helmet where I think her forehead is.
She stands there, unmoveable. “I would never propose,” that robotically modified voice informs me.
I scoff. “Well of course, Wifey, what do you take me for? I’ll be the one proposing!”
“And me,” Tate says gruffly, thick fingers clenching as his hungry eyes drill into the back of Ezzy’s helmet.
“Ummm . . . right. Not that I’m complaining—that guy was seriously disgusting—but what do we do with the body, and is this going to make the news for the first Player killed outside of a Bonding Game in TBG history?”
“No. Nobody cares. It will be a passing mention. Please let go.” The last one of Ezla’s toneless sentences is aimed at yours truly and sounds very much like a threat with no pleasantness at all, so, reluctantly, my arms slide from around her, dropping to my sides while I stick my lower lip out like the adorable little bunny I am.
“You are not a bunny.”
My smile crinkles my whole face. “You’re right, I’m a tiger. Rawr.” I twist my mouth into a large roar.
Everyone stares.
“That was awful,” Cooper says.
“It wasn’t . . . that bad . . .” Alby attempts to stick up for me but sounds unsure himself, and I pout at him.
The betrayal!
Scotty clears his throat, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Ah . . . thank you, Ezla. For . . . sticking up for my brother. That was very . . . efficient.”
Cooper raises his straight brows. “That’s one way to put it.”
“Thank you. I agree,” Ezla replies in that exact same tone again, before turning around and continuing on her way to our private training room. “Someone fetch my armoury stick, would you?”
In somewhat of a daze and after a couple wary looks thrown at the severed head and body—with me getting a curious closer peek as I rush over to pick up the ebony baton that’s bounced off the wall and landed nearby, demanifested, before I hurry back to my brothers—we once again follow.
***
“Oof!”
The air leaves me in one gigantic rush.
“Ezzy, I think I just cracked a rib!” I whine from my position on my back on the taalk ground while she whips around my brother and Alby, flooring both in the next second so that we’re all triplets with matching aches and pains.
Scotty curses while Ez drawls, “If I wanted to break your ribs, that is the only way they would be broken. And I currently do not wish that.”
“Awwww! That’s so romantic, Deadly Nightshade!”
“Up. You are nowhere near close enough to pinning me down. You must try harder.”
“We are trying,” Scotty mutters as he pushes himself to his feet, offering a hand to Alby and hauling him up, leaving poor little old me to my own devices. “We’re just not as good as you.”
“Obviously.”
Back on my feet with a new bruise on my assaulted butt—already sore from the half an hour spent trying to beat Ez in this training room—I get into position. “Okay, Ezzy! I got it this time! Come on, Bestie, brother, let’s do thi—”
Whack!
“OWWWWWW!” I sing my agony to the heavens as I sprawl out on the floor again.
“Are you o— Oomph!”
Alby lands in a heap on the taalk beside me.