29
TIGER
“Oh wow, hello, Ezzy. I have to admit, I’ve never believed in heaven, but for once, I’m happy I was wrong,” I slur.
That sleek helmet stares back at me impassively.
“Have I ever told you how pretty you are? So, so pretty. Like one of those drawings with the deadly dagger surrounded by gorgeous red roses and their lethal thorns.” I blink up at her in a daze.
“Ohhhhh! Or like the poisonous plant . . . whatsit . . . Nightshade! Deadly nightshade . . .” My eyes pop wide.
“Oh! That’s perfect! What a perfect nickname for you! Deadly Nightshade.”
“I like that,” she replies without emotion.
Confetti explodes inside of me. “I like you! In fact, Ez/Ezzy/Deadly Nightshade/DN—”
“Why is he acting like that? Did you give him something?”
Frowning and wondering who she’s talking to, I pause my list of cute names for my future wife—if marriage is even a thing in heaven—and— “Oh! Yes! Wifey!”
“Shouldn’t he be acting normal if he only had Avri?”
I swivel my head on the soft pillow beneath me, which I only now realise is there, to look at my brother with joy.
“Scotty! Oh my gawwwddd! You’re here! And you, and you, and you too, Bestie!
” I point at each of my family members in turn.
Then my brows crash down, lips pursing. “Wait, why are you here?! Are you real?! I didn’t think of that at first!
Oh my good golly gosh! Are you all dead too?
!” My eyes flood in an instant, and I let out the wail of a lifetime.
“Most patients do. But some have . . . side effects,” an unfamiliar voice says carefully in response to my brother.
“Like what?” Wifey snaps.
The weird person’s gulp is wayyyy too loud. “Nothing bad!” they rush out, voice rising an octave. “Just, sometimes, very rarely, it can work like the drugs we used well before Avri and can make patients a little—”
“BAAAABYYYY, YOU’RE MINEEE! MY WIFEYYY, MY WIFEYYY, MINEEE, EZZZYYYYY! WOOOHOOOOOO!”
“I don’t see the difference. Isn’t he always like this? It’s perfectly normal.”
“Cooper, this is not how my brother usually acts.”
“I didn’t mean that as an insult—Tiger’s great. I just don’t get the problem—”
“YEAHHHHH!” I frown, mind working with maximum power to make the next part of my new song perfect, then light up at my amazing idea: “YEAHHHHH! YEAHHH! YEAHHHHHHHHH—”
“This is how he is most of the time, I agree.”
“Fuck’s sake, Tate. Pay more attention if you think that—”
I burst into tears. “Oh my god! I’m dead and I didn’t get to marry Ez in real life!”
“Tiger— Brother, you’re not dead. Hey—”
“Fix it!” Deadly Nightshade barks, and my dick immediately woofs in response, catching my eye as it tents the thin sheet covering me and making me realise I’m completely naked as it twitches against it.
I give it a warning look, telepathically telling it to behave.
“I’m so sorry, Miss Zefron, but I can’t—”
“I will rip every hair from your head, pluck out your teeth one by one, then make a fucking necklace out of the two—”
While still internally arguing with my misbehaving cock, Tate’s groan sounds out somewhere in the background. “Oh, Havoc, baby, that’s so hot—”
“My cock won’t go down!” I cry out in despair.
Silence.
“Oh . . . that’s unfortunate, brother.”
“Umm . . . is he actually okay?” My bestie’s timid voice turns the volume of the room off once more.
I grin, a dizziness coming over me that has me feeling all funny and drowsy. “Of course, snookums. I’m so great I could fly . . . right into Ezzy’s arms, where I belong . . .” My voice trails off before my eyes flutter closed, and dreams of my wedding with Wifey swallow me whole.
***
“Do you think she was impressed by my size?” I ask the next morning as I lovingly recall my time in the hospital, which, at the time, I’d thought was heaven.
We’ve all just had a lengthy conversation about the who and the why of the attacking Exots from the club last night, but now I’m getting sick of the doom and gloom and blah, blah, blah. We can speculate more later—right now, I’m far more concerned about what Ezzy thinks of my greatest appendage.
Alby has morphed into a tomato beside me. “Uh . . .”
“I hate to break it to you, but I don’t think she looked.”
“Coops, of course she looked—I’m like a male bird, and she’s the female that can’t resist.”
“What?” Tate frowns in confusion.
“Ugh, nothing, Tater Tot.”
“Stop calling me that,” he says with no threat in his tone whatsoever. He loves it, really. “And mine’s bigger.”
I inhale sharply.
Oh no he did not.
“Take that back, Tater Tot.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Ye—”
“As thrilling as this conversation is, we have to finish eating,” Scotty interrupts dryly. “Our Bonded has quite literally announced a miracle by allowing us to start training four hours later than usual, even though I have a feeling she’ll force us to work twice as hard to make up for it.”
“She would not! I almost died!”
He grimaces. “Please don’t remind me, Tiger.”
I pout but nod, understanding how traumatising last night must’ve been for my brother when we’re like two pees in a pod. I know I’d completely lose myself if anything happened to him.
“Besides, you’re fine now. As scary as it was, that Avri made you as fresh as a newborn,” Coops puts in before taking a bite of his scrambled eggs on toast.
“Why, thank you. I do feel like I’m glowing.”
His eyes roll to the back of his head.
“Fuckin’ freaky, that’s what it is,” Tater Tot’s gruff voice pitches in. “I saw how bad the gash was, and now there’s not even a scar.”
My hands turn into jazz ones. “Ta-da! It’s magic.”
“It’s science.”
“Okay, Poopers Coopers.”
His nose wrinkles. “Please never call me that again. Coops is fine.”
“Knew you always liked that one.”
Scotty sighs his infamous sigh, looking up to the obsidian ceiling like it’ll come down and help him babysit us. “Please eat. Please.”
The last “please” is softer, a hint of vulnerability in it that couldn’t be hidden, and I sober at once.
Whenever I was picked on for my ADHD at school or anything else happened to really affect either my mental or physical health, my brother was always my hero, and he still is.
But after any incidents, he’s always even more protective than his default, worrying about me almost obsessively, needing to make sure each and every one of my basic needs are met.
I never complain—I know how lucky I am to have someone who cares so much.
And with how much he does for me, I can do this for him: simply make sure I take care of myself.
I quickly shove a spoonful of my protein bowl into my mouth.
Scotty relaxes.
When I’ve finished scarfing down my food and chugging my smoothie, not missing my brother’s piercing blue eyes checking my bowl to make sure not a speck’s left, I eagerly ask, “So how’s everyone doing with Ez/Ezzy/Wifey/DN/Deadly—”
“I don’t think you need to use every single one.” Coops rubs a hand over his growing stubble, and I wonder if he’s planning to go full mountain-man style anytime soon.
“Yeah, but I can’t decide,” I say while I copy him, feeling my smooth cheeks that Scotty likes to call “baby cheeks”, which, I’ll have you know, they’re not. They’re very manly. Which is why I’m wondering if our Bonded would like an even more manly look.
“What are you doing?” Tate scowls, but I know it’s just his confused face; he’s got a resting man-bitch face like Cooper.
“Trying to decide if Ez/Ezzy/Wif—”
“Please, not again,” Cooper groans.
My sweetie-pie bestie—who still doesn’t join in much with group conversations due to his nerves and anxiety that I try to help him with as much as I can—says in his quiet voice, “What were you saying?”
“Yes! Thanks, Bestie! I was just going to say that . . . Ezzy”—I decide on that one for now, promising myself I can use the others whenever I feel like it next— “might like facial hair. And I was wondering if I should try and grow some, even though I kind of struggle with that.”
They all stare.
“She doesn’t.”
My eyes narrow as I concentrate hard on scrutinising Tate’s expression. “Tater Tot, are you lying?”
He glowers, one of his favourite facial expressions. “Why would I lie?”
“Because you secretly want to grow a beard to impress Wifey, but you won’t tell us because you want to sabotage us?” I suggest.
His face darkens, and I can almost see the cracks of lightning in his thunderous gaze. “I would never do that to my Havoc. If I’m sharing her with you fuckfaces, you have to be at your best, and I don’t want you scratching up her pretty, soft skin with your spiky facial hair.”
My brows shoot up. That was true confirmation, the first we’ve gotten, although I’d suspected it was coming: despite his raging jealousy, the possessive beast is willing to share his obsession.
Not that I would’ve backed off if he hadn’t been . . .
“She might like some stubble,” Coops mutters under his breath almost petulantly.
“Awww, Coops, she’ll love your little prick, don’t you worry.”
Scotty raises a brow. “I’d rethink your wording there, brother.”
A wrinkle forms between my brows as I think over what I said. “What?”
“Little prick?” Cooper prompts, appearing offended.
“I didn’t say that,” I scoff, rolling my eyes at his dramatics. “Like your face pricks—stubble.”
“Just say that next time. No one calls facial hair a prick. At least use the plural.”
“Whatever, dudes. You need to chill.”
“Fuck,” Scotty curses, now looking at the digital clock on the wall, the numbers done in red, white, and green to match the social classifications. “We’re going to be late. Everyone done?” We all quickly nod, rising in a scrape of chairs across the taalk floor. “Let’s go.”
***
Ezzy’s murderous eyes bore into us behind the visor of her scary-but-sexy helmet, and I can just imagine the flames of hell in them.
Maybe her eyes do have real flames in them? Wouldn’t that be cool?!
“You are late.”