64 #2
Everyone here knows there’s no way she can deny anything now, and she’s intelligent enough to know there’s no getting out of this, so she’s giving us the information we’re burning for.
Alby sniffles, tears slowing as he pulls back slightly to look at her as she speaks, but his arms remain bound around her securely.
“Father has always been . . . closer than he should have. But when I was twelve, that was the first time he . . . took.”
The air vibrates dangerously with Tate’s growl and all the raw pain and wrath seeping into the atmosphere.
Cooper’s nostrils flare, the violence he hates so much sizzling all over him.
I press a tender kiss to the back of our Bonded’s head, as much for me as it is for her, and my quivering palm smooths down the side of her face, thumb swiping up the lingering moisture under her eyes, though she’s not crying any longer.
“He is the one who trained me. I did not go to an Exot school.” No one is surprised by that; if she’d learned what she has in Exot Training School, there would be multiple others like her, with that level of skill.
But she’s the only one of her kind. “Along with . . . Peter, sometimes. They are close.”
“The fucking Showmaster?” Cooper hisses while my jaw grinds. Then his eyes darken further. “Has he ever . . . ?”
“No. My father would kill him if he touched me inappropriately. But he makes comments—like he did recently in the Training Centre. Nothing I cannot handle.”
I remember that day vividly. It was the second time we’d seen our Bonded lose herself to fury like that. Now it all makes sense.
“However, he is my massage therapist.”
“What?” Tate spits, fingers digging into her arm with enough strength to bruise.
Blinding anger shoots through me as well, but our jealousy isn’t something that needs to come into this at the moment. “We’ll get back to that later,” I say stiffly. Then I ask Ezla, “What was your training like, Love? Does this mean your father is as advanced as you?”
“No.” Some offence bleeds into her tone.
Honestly, I’m a little glad I’ve unintentionally insulted her there, if only to hear some life return to her.
“He knows what he is teaching, knows the theory behind it all, but he is around the same skill level as you. I’d say he would have a Score of 90 if he were ever given one based on his battle skills and techniques like we are.
His Score of 100 only comes from being the Game Master and the ultimate power that title holds. ”
“So we could beat him,” Cooper states, narrowing his eyes.
Ezla is quiet for a moment. Then she speaks almost cautiously, body tensing a fraction, and I glide my hand lovingly over her hair again in attempt to soothe her. “He would use me against you. I think he knows . . . It was too obvious from the Halfway Ball, and that was my mistake.”
“Don’t think like that, Ezzy. I wouldn’t be able to keep my love for you in if I tried.” Tiger pouts with his usual amount of excessive emphasis on it, but his sunshine is hardly peeking through with all the shadows around us right now.
Her eyes flick to him, studying him for a moment, and I could swear they soften, just a tad.
“You would not put me in danger. I know that now.” Relief and happiness manage to chip away some of the sorrow in me for a moment there, before she says, “I cannot get close to my father because he senses my desire to harm him the moment it is there. He hurts me worse the more extreme that desire is. I cannot . . . I cannot see, think, or move when that pain is splitting my head apart.” With a frown, I gently rub that very head now.
“And with you . . .” She sighs, then divulges with no warning, “It was him. It was him who sent the Exots to kill you.”
“What?!” Most of us exclaim in unison. And I say most of us because Cooper seethes at the same time, “I fucking knew it—”
Irritation rises within me. “What do you mean you knew it—”
“You didn’t tell us—”
“No, I didn’t voice my concerns because our Bonded gave us a fucking warning I heeded!” Cooper cuts Tiger off angrily.
“Oh, so that’s the warning you listen to?” Tate grouches, his scowl stormy.
“This one was—”
“Shut up,” Ezla snaps, and everyone freezes. I myself subsequently loosen in relief at the familiar tone of voice.
She’s back.
“I did not want you mentioning it when those invisible cameras used in the Games could be anywhere. Even I am not intelligent enough to pinpoint where they are.” She pauses, considering, and her nails dig into my thighs, causing my dick to stir against her ass.
There’s nothing to help hide it, either, since we’re still naked.
Fuck’s sake.
Over her shoulder, Ezla shoots me a look, her lips nearly twitching into that wicked smirk I’ve seen sneaking out quite a bit recently.
But she quashes it as she carries on, “However, I do not think there are any in our Bonded chambers. The Council knows too little about Bonded groups from what we have recently discovered at the Halfway Ball, so I would hazard a guess that if there are cameras used outside of what the world sees on live television, they never make it inside any of the chambers.”
“So there could definitely be cameras watching us when we’re unaware?” Alby asks nervously, his unwavering grip on her tightening.
Seemingly without thought, her hand finds his raven hair, and she runs her fingers through it.
His face goes lax in awe, adoring gaze shining.
“No, I am not sure. There could be none. The Techtis Council is not entirely corrupt.” It’s unnerving to see her uncertain about anything, yet it’s also reassuring, because we really could just be being paranoid if the Champion herself hasn’t found any solid evidence.
Still, it’s more a feeling we’ve seemingly collectively had recently, so it’s better to be safe than sorry.
“Anyhow,” Ezla continues, “my father has recruited the most ruthless Exots he can find below me, taking some from past-formed Bonded groups, who, of course, all readily agreed. He uses them for discreet executions and portrays himself as too charming for the orders to ever be linked back to him if one were to blab.”
“Why?” Tiger whispers. “Why would he go after us? Because . . . ?”
“Yes,” Ezla confirms his unspoken question.
“Because you bonded me. He thinks he owns me. He created me, every part of who I am. Designed me exactly how he wanted me to be. He never wanted a child to care for, to make a family with, as he has everyone believe. He only wanted a baby girl who would grow into a woman he could . . .” She trails off, jaw tensing.
A mix of anger and regret flashes through her eyes, either at the situation or because she’s spilled so much seemingly without thought.
But we don’t need any more information—I think we’ve finally got most, if not all, of the sickening picture of our Bonded’s life.
Shaking her head mildly against me, she says, “He wanted to kill me in Game 1. I think he had grown tired of my refusals of him, my lack of . . . love for him. He has always wanted me to love him back, but I now do not think what he feels for me was ever that. It does not feel . . . nice”—her nose wrinkles adorably in disgust on the word—“like it does with you.”
“Finally realised that, huh, Vengeance?” Cooper’s words aren’t aggressive or taunting, just relieved, almost soft. But there’s sadness in his smile and wrath simmering beneath the surface of his skin because of all that’s been revealed so far, aimed not at Ezla but at her vile fucking sperm donor.
“Hm.”
Cooper scoffs at her short reply, but it’s affectionate, and he reaches out to rub her foot as she shares more:
“He must not have expected me to survive, which is very insulting. I know how to work with pain.” I take a shuddering breath to try and calm myself at that.
“Of course, his plan backfired, and I ended up with five Bonds. Obviously, he could not have that, so he tried to have you killed. But I had suspected he might. I had been on the lookout. The entire reason I started training you in the first place was for two reasons: one, I would not be humiliated by having useless Bonds who only became such by sheer luck and chance; and two, to turn you into soldiers who could possibly help me defeat my father,” she admits without shame, tone even.
Cooper’s eyes slit, anger and hurt trickling into his words as he demands, “You just wanted to use us? Is that what you’re doing right now?”
She rolls her eyes like he’s ridiculous, his questions unfounded. But a small part of me wonders the same thing now, doubt niggling at me. She’s still the Champion, after all, this stunning woman in my arms. She doesn’t do feelings.
But then I remember that she does.
I recall all that pain, all that anger, and I could never, ever forget the care I felt from her. She can’t fake that. And I don’t think any of us should really be surprised by her revelation. I know I’m not: Her change of heart was always odd. I knew there was more to it than what she’d say.
So I push past the smarting in my chest that intensifies at the crushed looks on Alby and Tiger’s faces and listen closely as our Bonded explains, “Of course I did. I would simply like to keep you for other reasons now. You may be able to get close to my father in a way I cannot with the energy in my face, but your desire to protect me and defend my honour will help you with that task as much as it will hinder you when he uses me against you. I will not have you throwing yourselves straight into danger. I know your feelings for me well enough to know you would not let him prick me with a needle, let alone kill me with an overload of agony.” Glancing away absently, her nails lightly trace over my arm around her, and goosebumps rise on my skin.