OBSIDIAN GUARD BOOK 2

CHAPTER 7 NIGHT OBSESSION

POV Valeryen

Gideon's breath hitched. He leaned forward, placing his cheek right next to Ollivanders, his eyes alight with a predatory hunger I usually reserved for my own private sessions.

"I. Want. To. f**k. You," he grunted, every single word like it was its own sentence.

Ollivander didn't blink. He finally looked up, his eyes wide and vacant of anything but service. "When and where, Master?"

Gideon actually recoiled slightly, a low laugh vibrating in his chest. The psychopathic glint in his eyes came alive, bright and manic.

"You're the real thing, aren't you? A perfectly broken little bird. I could snap you in half right here, and you'd thank me for the sound of the bones, wouldn't you?"

"If it pleased you, Master," Ollivander replied.

Gideon reached out, his thick fingers tangling in Ollivander's hair, pulling his head back. "I think I'll keep you. Pack your things, flower. You're staying with me."

Ollivander didn't pull away, though I could see the tension in his shoulders. "I am already owned by another, Master. But... she is known to be generous with her favorites. She allows me to be shared, provided the play is... of a certain caliber."

Gideon paused, his thumb stroking Ollivander's jawline. "An owner? Who in this soot-stained city has the taste to forge something like you?"

"Her name is Valry, Master," Ollivander said, his voice laced with a rehearsed, practiced devotion.

I chose that moment to step out of the shadows. I didn't walk; I prowled. I let my gaze linger on Gideon's hand in my pet's hair, my mouth set in a hard, challenging line.

I didn't need rubies to feel powerful; I had the weight of the mountain in my stride. Ollivander shifted instantly, turning his body toward me while remaining on his knees. He bowed his head low.

"Master."

Gideon looked me up and down, his eyes traveling over my leather doublet and the visible scars on my arms. He didn't look intimidated. Gideon was likely never intimidated, I imagined, but he looked deeply, intensely curious. Jasmine finally deigned to look up, her nostrils flaring as she caught my scent.

"Valry," Gideon echoed, his voice dropping an octave. "You have an eye for craftsmanship. This one is... exquisite."

I stepped closer, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him. I reached down, my fingers trailing over Ollivander's shoulder, tracing one of the welts I'd given him earlier. Then, I looked Gideon dead in the eye.

"He is more than exquisite," I purred, my voice raspy and low. "He is mine, and worth his weight in stones."

I let my hand drop from Ollivander and leaned down towards Gideon. I towered over him as he was still sitting on the sofa, albeit at the edge of it. The scent of his excitement mixed with the sickly sweetness of Jasmine's aura.

I felt a surge of adrenaline. This was the man who had likely helped slaughter my Thanes, and here he was, panting over my pet.

"You want to play with my toy, little one?" I asked, a predatory smirk tugging at my lips. I gestured to the floor beside Ollivander. "Take a knee. Let me see if you have the discipline to earn the right to touch him."

Gideon froze. The silence at the table was sudden and deafening. Even Jasmine looked stunned. No one spoke to a member of the Syndicate that way, especially not a "soft" looking citizen of a rival city.

Gideon's jaw worked, his heart-weaving likely sensing the absolute, cold confidence in my spirit. The challenge was a spark in a room full of gasoline.

Gideon didn't snap. He didn't snarl. Instead, a bark of genuine, delighted laughter exploded from his chest, a sound so jarringly joyful it cut through the low thrum of the music like a blade.

"Oh," Gideon whispered, his eyes wide and fixed on mine, shimmering with a manic, beautiful light. "Oh, this is going to be fun."

He didn't kneel with the practiced grace of a pet. He dropped with the heavy, deliberate weight of a predator choosing to play along. His knees hit the stone with a dull thud right beside Ollivander, but his gaze never left my face.

He looked up at me, a wolf inviting a hunter to show him her best trap.

"Tell me what to do, Goddess," he rumbled, his voice thick and gravelly. Even through the silk of his trousers, the prominent, rigid line of his arousal was impossible to miss. He was beaming, actually, physically radiant with the thrill of it.

"Most people start crying before I even finish saying hello. But you... you have a pulse like a war drum, Valry."

I didn't flinch. I reached out and took hold of Gideon's chin, my fingers digging into his jawline. I could feel the heat of him, the sheer, explosive energy of a man who lived for the moment of impact.

"If you want to touch him," I said, my voice dropping to a low, commanding purr, "you do it exactly how I tell you. He is a delicate instrument, little one. You break him, and I'll ensure you don't leave this city with all your fingers."

Gideon let out a shaky, exhilarated breath. "Tell me. Tell me what to do to him. I want to see if your taste matches your heartbeat."

Beside him, Ollivander remained perfectly still, though his breathing had become shallow. I shifted my gaze to my pet.

"Ollivander. Show him your back," I commanded.

Ollivander moved instantly, rotating on his knees until his back was to Gideon, and removed his shirt. He leaned forward slightly, resting his palms on the floor, arching his spine just enough to make the welts I had gifted him earlier stand out in sharp, crimson relief against his pale skin.

"Look at the marks, Gideon," I directed, my hand still firm on the Heart Weaver's jaw. "The third welt from the top. He's still tender there. I want you to use two fingers. Apply pressure, just enough to make him vibrate, but not enough to make him cry out. If he makes a sound, you lose your turn."

Gideon's hand trembled as he reached out. He looked like a child being offered a forbidden sweet. As his fingers hovered over Ollivander's skin, I saw his pupils dilate until his eyes were almost entirely black.

"Softly," I warned.

Gideon pressed. His touch was clinical, precise, and terrifyingly steady. I watched Ollivander's entire frame seize, a fine tremor rippling through his muscles, but he remained silent, his forehead pressed against the cold stone. I knew he liked this kind of pain.

"f**k," Gideon breathed, his voice cracking with a high-pitched, jagged edge of excitement. He looked up at me, his face flushed, his grin wide and terrifying. "He's perfect. He doesn't just submit; he absorbs. I can feel his heart through his skin, Valry. It's racing... It's singing even."

"And you?" I asked, leaning down until my breath hitched against his ear. "What is your heart doing, Gideon?"

"It's trying to beat its way out of my ribs," he gasped, his other hand clenching into a fist in his lap, trying to hide the sheer intensity of his reaction. "God, I love this city. Jasmine, why didn't you tell me to go on 'vacation' sooner?"

Jasmine, who had been watching the entire exchange with a look of growing, amused intrigue, finally spoke. "I told you to keep an open mind, brother. It seems the Guard has hidden depths after all."

I stepped back, crossing my arms over my chest, watching the two of them, the broken pet and the ecstatic psychopath, at my feet. The power dynamic was a shimmering, electric thing in the air, more potent than any gemstone I owned.

"Continue," I told Gideon, a cold, predatory satisfaction settling in my chest. "The next mark down. This time, use your teeth. But if I see a drop of blood, the game is over."

Gideon didn't hesitate. He lunged forward with the eagerness of a starving man, his joy so infectious and dark it made the hair on my arms stand up. He was mine for the evening now, not because I had a crown, but because I had the only thing a man like him couldn't provide for himself: a limit.

Gideon looked up at Jasmine, his face flushed with a manic, boyish glow that looked utterly wrong on a seasoned killer. "Go back to the hotel, Jas," he rasped, not breaking eye contact with me. "Don't wait up. I think I've found a new religion."

Jasmine's eyebrows climbed toward her hairline. She knew him better than anyone; she knew the hollow space where his desires were supposed to be. Seeing him like this, vibrant, pulsing, and undeniably present, was clearly a shock even for her.

She gave a slow, knowing smirk, tossed her hair back, and stood. "Don't break the Queen's city too badly, brother. We're supposed to be on 'vacation,' not on a murder spree."

As she drifted away, the sweetness in the air vanished, replaced by the raw, sharp scent of Gideon's sweat and the cold mineral tang of the stone.

I leaned back, my boots clicking against the floor. "I'm moving this to a private suite," I said, my voice a low, clinical drawl. "But I don't walk through this hotel with unchained dogs. If I am to lead you back there, you will wear a leash and collar of my choosing. In exchange, you may do the same to Ollivander."

Gideon's jaw dropped. A leash. For a man who had spent his life being the apex predator, the suggestion should have ended in a bloodbath. Instead, he let out a choked, wet sound, halfway between a laugh and a sob.

"Yes," he breathed. "God, yes."

He tried to stand, but he hissed through his teeth and had to pause, doubled over slightly. With a shameless, frantic motion, he had to reach into his trousers and physically rearrange himself. He looked up at me, his eyes wide with a terrifying, wide-eyed wonder.

"I thought I was broken, Valry," he whispered, his voice shaking. "In Ironspire, they look at me and see a void. I can feel everyone else's heart, but mine... mine never sang for anyone. I thought I was a machine made of meat and bone. But this? This hurts. It's heavy. It's... I've never felt this before."

"It's called a consequence, Gideon," I said, my heart hammering against my ribs. I turned to a nearby attendant, who was already holding a tray of heavy leather and cold iron. "And you're about to feel a lot more of them."

I took a thick, ruby-studded collar from the tray. I didn't wait for him to prep; I snapped it around his thick neck, the buckle biting into his skin. I felt the vibration of his pulse through the leather; it was erratic, slamming against his throat like a trapped bird.

I handed a matching, thinner collar to Gideon. "Your turn."

Gideon's hands were trembling. The legendary Heart Weaver, the man who could stop a heart with a thought, was shaking like a leaf. He leaned over Ollivander, his fingers fumbling with the buckle as he secured my pet. He looked like he was in a trance.

I clipped a heavy silver chain to Gideon's throat and tugged up. He stood, towering over me, yet his head was bowed, his shoulders hunched in a posture of high-tension anticipation. I took the lead in my left hand and Ollivander's in my right.

"Walk," I commanded.

The walk to the private suite was a slow delight for me. I led them through the velvet-draped halls, the heavy clink of the chains echoing off the stone. Gideon walked with a strange, hitched gait, his breath coming in ragged stutters every time I gave the lead a sharp, corrective tug. He was staring at the back of my head with a devotion that was bordering on the divine.

We reached the suite, a cavern of dark silk and polished volcanic glass. The door hissed shut behind us, sealing out the world.

I turned, reeling in the chains until Gideon was inches from my face. The heat coming off him was like a furnace. He was panting, his face twisted in a mask of agonizing, ecstatic conflict.

"You like the weight of the iron, don't you, little one?" I asked, my hand moving to the hilt of a small, Jade-tipped crop resting on the side table.

"I like that you're the one holding the end of it," he rasped, dropping back to his knees without being asked. He looked down at Ollivander, who'd assumed the position moments before, then back at me, his grin turning sharp and jagged. "Now... tell me what to do to him. Make me earn the right to feel like this for one more second, Goddess."