45 #2
Cooper seems to snort internally, however that’s possible. He certainly has a way with words.
“We cannot linger on such tragic events when there are so many great things to come! I, for one, am incredibly excited! Would you like to know why?!”
The crowd switches up in an instant. Like magic, any lingering devastation, rage, or confusion becomes anticipation.
I try not to wrinkle my nose. I don’t consider myself a judgmental person, but the elite living in this region are just . . .
Unbelievable, Cooper supplies as the Showmaster starts to explain all of Ezla’s plans. There’s not an ounce of amusement left in my brother’s tone, just pure disgust.
At least poo-eyed Joseph is getting the treatment he’s always deserved. Imagine the tantrum he’d throw if he found out Techtis dismissed him like people would a fly. Tiger’s words are paired with a supervillain’s laugh.
Fuckin’ right, Tate agrees, smirking. He’s not looking at the crowd outside, the one we can see through the one-way wall before us—only Ezla.
It’s only ever Ezla.
And that’s something that’s never changed. That never will.
Some things have, like his acceptance of us, the way he’s started to treat all of us like brothers, but his obsession and love haven’t—well, unless you consider the fact that they only seem to have amplified by a hundred and the growth just keeps on happening every hour of every day.
But the point is, he’s just as devoted as he originally was, just with subtle differences that allow this Bonded group to function perfectly.
And I think that’s the same with all of us.
I think a part of me worried that the Games would change me—and they did.
But it was all for the better, and who I am remained completely intact.
Ezla’s changed the most, but even she kept a hold of herself.
She didn’t lose herself, just discovered new parts of herself.
And I can’t believe I was one of the men who helped her find those parts.
“. . . no more Exots and Evots! But what there will be . . . is colour! Freedom! An empress who you all know and love, and her five bonded men!”
Blinking back to reality again, I take in the crowd down below, The Dome surreal from this perspective.
We seem so much closer to the red, white, and green shapes dotting the ceiling to create the night-sky effect—we seem so much further from the arena floor, where, only a week ago, I wasn’t sure I’d make it out of the maze that sat at its centre and expanded outwards, dominating a good portion of it.
The audience has gone wild again, and there’s an overload of emotions I can feel radiating from them even in here through the thick walls.
There’s more confusion and anger, and there’s a lot of it, but there’s also excitement.
And it’s not the hope I’m sure the rest of the region is feeling, that enthusiasm no doubt all because of the words “Ezla” and “empress”, which me and my brothers never thought for a second they’d reject the idea of when she’s always been an idol and loved by practically everyone, Exots, Evots, and Neutrals alike—though I’m sure there will definitely be wariness and fear in there for a long while, because their adoration doesn’t mean they’re oblivious to who she is—but I know they are.
I know people like me back in third school are crying, weeping in joy.
I know there are millions of people out there celebrating already, watching this on TV and thinking thank you in every shape and form.
I know there are parents, ones just like the Exot man from the Avri labs, who are sobbing their hearts out, bombarded by so much relief and joy at the fact their children won’t be separated from them by the social classifications, or fed to The Bonding Games to be obliterated.
Some Evots and Exots cut off contact with their families completely over the years, the classifications tearing them apart, but maybe they won’t be so scared anymore, and they’ll return home.
I know the ones who chose to keep talking to their relatives will be overjoyed, unable to believe they no longer need to take the limited, frowned-upon visits to an opposing Zone.
And even if all this wasn’t now possible, in the position I am now, I could’ve immediately . . . I can . . .
I blurt it out before I lose the courage: “Will you come visit my parents with me? I-I want them to meet you!”
Eyes humungous and heat crawling all over my face, I stand and stare at Ezla dumbly. She herself glares at anyone outside of our Bonded group whose attention was drawn our way by my outburst.
My eyes dart all over my brothers. “A-and you. I’d like you to meet them too.
I’d like them to meet you. I, uh . . . I’ve not had friends over since, uh, the only one I had .
. . Aider . . . so . . .” Feeling more and more stupid as I try to explain myself, my hands grow clammy in the gloves meant to prevent that, and I twist my fingers together.
“I just want them to see the great people I now have in my life. I want them to know how happy I am, and to—to . . .”
“Of course, my shy boy,” Ezla purrs, and she’s entirely uncaring about the attention we gain from those she’d only seconds ago terrified away with her glare as she strides right up to me, wraps her hand around the front of my neck, and slams her mouth to mine.
My eyelids stretch wide enough to hurt.
When I process the new situation, I snap at my clumsy tongue to get into action, and I could have sworn I was getting better at kissing before this when my eyes squeeze shut and I try to move my lips in response to hers.
At least any embarrassment is swatted away before it can settle down the moment my Bonded hums against me and purrs down the bond, Always so beautifully clumsy. You are so perfect, Alby. So mine.
Oh . . . Her words have me feeling as though I’m close to passing out, my legs like jelly.
Yes . . . yours. My voice sounds dazed even in my mind, and the arms that I’ve somehow worked around her without my knowledge squeeze her to me desperately.
Such a good boy.
I want to be your good boy, Tiger whines, and Ezla pulls back. Can you come and meet mine and Scotty’s parents?!
And mine, if you don’t mind, Vengeance.
So demanding.
I can’t tell if Ezla’s remark sounds more amused or like a threat.
Yes, she says a moment later.
Relief and piles of love overwhelm the bond.
Nose wrinkling, Ezla sends next, That is sickeningly sweet. Stop it.
Sorry, Love. We can’t help it.
Her eyes roll before she tells us like she thinks it’s important to note, Before you ask it of me, I will take care not to kill your parents. I will not let my usual desires take over.
Four blinks and one hungry lick of lips as Tate grunts and adjusts himself. So hot, my Havoc. Just the thought of you in action—
Does that mean you’ll be wanting to kill our parents? Cooper asks, and I can tell he’s trying to sound calm here rather than letting any anger or fear creep through.
Do not be ridiculous, Cooper, Ezla snaps. I may not be able to feel anything for them, but I would never do something to harm you like that would emotionally. It is entirely insulting to believe so when I have told you multiple times and also just stressed this fact so you would not worry—