Chapter 17 Gedeon
GEDEON
Her request cut me more painfully than the knife she had buried in my colon and which had nicked my kidney. The torturous week I had spent under the doc’s and his team’s strict supervision held nothing to how her rejection sliced me wide open.
Turning her back to me, she carelessly stomped through the woods, oblivious to—
She startled.
Leaning against an ash tree, Zion studied her, a rumple of black fabric thrown over his shoulder. In her rage, Kali had missed that I wasn’t the only one concerned with her safety.
At least she had not stumbled. Zion had been teaching her well.
Their daily trips to our training rings had paid off.
Observing her form while he pointed out her mistakes had been particularly amusing.
Particularly when she would not give up regardless of how far Zion pushed her, and after a while, he would resort to throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her home.
She would huff and puff her protests, but his grin would simply spread wider. And every time it happened, it would call out my own smile.
A wide array of proverbs had survived in our folklore, but there was one I could attest to. You could not comprehend the value of something, someone until you were faced with their absence.
And enduring the loss of Kali and Zion had been worse than the seven days of no intense movement, no wandering around, and no training, as per the doc’s orders.
Not even counting the three-week physical therapy he had put me through before relenting and issuing his approval for me to resume my regular workout regime.
Moonlight filtering through the tiny leaves dotting the branches bathed Zion’s chin, the bow above his thin upper lip, the tip of his pink tongue darting out to run over his heavy bottom lip—the tic he seldom succumbed to, only when he was truly nervous.
And destabilizing him took exceptional effort.
Kali hissed at him, “I trusted you.”
Pushing off the ash tree, he approached her. “Kali—”
She punched his chest. Her fist slid down his dark green long-sleeved shirt, the fabric rippling as it snagged under her hand. “I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want your excuses. I don’t—” Her voice trembled. “Just leave me alone for tonight, Zion. That’s all I ask.
He tracked how she disappeared into the forest’s shadows, then turned back to me. A breeze rustled his golden-brown hair, sheared short, as he surveyed me, from my shins to my ribs to my face.
At last, he threw the fabric hanging on his shoulder to me and strode in Kali’s footsteps, pausing to check if I was following.
Putting on the black hoodie, I kept my distance as I marched after him, all the way to the grassy field at the fringes of our compound. As silent as before, we moved down the desolate streets, and I pulled the hood to conceal my identity.
He took the long way home, the path winding around the unoccupied dwellings and ruins instead of the heart of our compound. Once we neared the central building, I melted into a back alley, using the fallen night’s camouflage to my advantage.
Careful to avoid kicking the tiny rocks littering the ground, I glued myself to a rusted garbage container, its gray paint flaking off to reveal the oxygen-affected metal beneath.
Without another word, Zion went over to Ava and Jayla rummaging in the back of—
Now that was my car parked in the middle of the road. It was hard to mistake the fresh coat of black paint I had sprayed on it half a year ago. Usually, nobody fussed over their vehicles, most sporting rust the same way decay marked the peaches if you left them on the windowsill for too long.
Except instead of decay, my car’s bumper boasted a glaringly obvious indentation.
As if sensing my trail of thoughts, Zion shot me a look, a lopsided smile flashing in the yellow light dousing the street.
Careful not to draw unwanted attention, he resumed the conversation with Ava and Jayla. I couldn’t hear their chat, but two long ginger braids glided along Jayla’s yellow parka as she gave a nod to Zion.
Right on point, Kali emerged from the central building, and the two women intercepted her path, steering her in the direction of our main bar—Vice.
Zion must have asked them to accompany Kali to their workplace.
As I watched her trudge away, my legs tingled with the need to chase.
But I stayed rooted.
I knew that if I lost her trust, I would never regain it. It would forever remain out of reach. Beyond deals, bargains, and transactions. Unattainable.
And I had done just that—betrayed her trust.
And had talked Zion into doing it too.
When the trio of women were out of sight, he scanned the street.
Satisfied with his inspection, he waved me over to the back exit of the central building.
Mute, we climbed up the stairwell, the doors at the landings shut, not a murmur disturbing the peace, save for our footfalls reverberating in the closed space.
Five steps before me, Zion moved smoothly, identically to how he had fought the soldiers in Ilasall. Graceful. Fluid. He had glided around them so swiftly and stealthily, it had temporarily hypnotized me.
His movements had resembled a story: launching, retreating, attacking, defending, striking, deflecting—a dance of sorts. Like waves crashing onto the shore, individual and part of a larger picture at the same time.
With his back to me, he opened the stairwell door to our floor and sauntered down the hallway, toward Kali’s bedroom. Circular, recessed lamps dotting the ceiling illuminated the bob of his throat before he slipped inside.
Following him, I shut the bedroom door behind me, its click as spine-chilling as Zion’s restless marching along the large windows lining the far wall. The streetlights cast a dim glow around his form.
“Ava will look after Kali,” he rushed out. “At Vice.” His pacing faltered. “You—” He ripped at his hair. “I—” As he backed away, his mouth opened and closed. “This— I— What—” Finally, he whispered, “You’re here,” and whipped around, resting his forehead against the window, unable to look at me.
My throat dry, I croaked out, “Zion.”
Four letters, a name, an instruction, a command, and it worked like a charm.
Slowly spinning around, he gripped the windowsill at his back. His gaze raked over me, cutting through the murk swirling in the distance between us, and I…froze.
His beauty was cruel.
How had I missed it previously, I had not a clue. I had to have ignored it. Because, for the last three months, I had dreamed of him. Every night.
But my dreams held nothing to the real him. Razor-sharp cheekbones. Upturned nose. Toned torso. The curve of his shoulders.
Just…him.
“Gedeon.” He erased the space between us, ramming his palms into my chest and pushing me against the door. Sparks of ache bloomed in the back of my head, blurring my vision—
His lips collided with mine.
He was not gentle or pliant. He had crashed into me with enough force for his shaky sigh to vibrate through me.
Cold palms hooked behind my nape, and his thumbs mapped out a path along my ears. I clasped his waist, locking him in and sucking on his chapped bottom lip. The rough bits of dead skin melted on my tongue, the taste of him so much more exquisite than in my memories.
Gradually, the fight bubbling within him ebbed away, and I murmured into his mouth, “What do you need, Zion?” His name rumbled out of me like a wave, a full-body shudder.
His chest heaved against mine. “To feel you.”
Taking his jaw, I wiped away the crusted blood under his nose. He nipped my thumb, and my gravelly grunt made him repeat the action.
Seizing his hair, I craned his head back to assault his mouth. We writhed in hunger, unsatiated and violent, and I pushed us away from the door, toward the bed. The moment the backs of his legs hit the mattress, I shoved him onto it.
“You have no idea how long I have waited for this,” I confessed as I crawled over him. Straddling his hips, I tugged the hem of his fitted uniform shirt up.
He rushed to help me, yanking on the fabric—
It tangled around his neck.
He pulled and yanked and tugged the synthetic material, but to no avail. “Godsdamnit.”
Batting his arms away, I maneuvered the shirt over his head myself and tossed it aside.
“I want to explore each inch of you.” I leaned in to nibble his throat, reveling in how he arched.
“Learn what makes your groans falter.” I kissed down to the middle of his chest, circling his nipple and catching in between my teeth.
“Your breathing hitch. Your core twitch.” Biting down on the sensitive bit of flesh, I pulled, and his hips bucked right into mine. “Just like that.”
He gripped my hoodie’s neckline. “I’m burning this.”
Chuckling at the idea of him incinerating my wardrobe like he had done with Kali’s, I jerked my hoodie over my head and discarded it somewhere behind me. I wanted no obstructions on the bed, only Zion splayed out on Kali’s fluffy duvet.
His hands roamed my front, lingered under my ribs, stroked the scar Kali had blessed me with.
Kissing down Zion’s abdomen, I licked the diagonal muscles running to his pelvis. He fisted the sheets at his sides so hard veins surfaced on his forearms.
A clang pierced his heavy breathing as I unbuckled his black belt, a standard issue for soldiers, and put it aside, on one of the two pillows resting against the ebony headboard.
He scrambled to get his zipper down—
“No,” I objected.
He obeyed, gripping the pillow above his head, his triceps bulging in an invitation to latch onto them, to bite, to paint him in bruises.
His obedience burrowed inside me, coiling in my thighs. I flicked the single plastic button open, methodically dragged his zipper down, and pulled his cargo pants to rest below hips.
Quiet in my approach, I skimmed my lips across the top of his underwear, not a hint of my next move. Words seemed lacking at this point. Zion’s physical responses were far too mesmerizing to—
“I don’t think I’ll last long.” His body bowed. “It’s taking everything I have—”
I yanked his underwear to the middle of his thighs.
My mouth instantly watered, eradicating the desert that had parched me senseless. I had discovered the pleasure in exacting control over my partners a long time ago. Usually, it was all about instinctual satisfaction—giving in to your basest urges. But having Zion at my mercy…
I could feed off the image of him for centuries. His inability to hold off, because of me, it wired me up.
“Gedeon,” Zion growled. “I will kill—”
He choked as I gripped him, licking the tip, enjoying the faint saltiness. His thighs tensed, and an idea of dragging this out bloomed in my mind.
“Do not move.” Releasing him, I shuffled to the edge of the bed. Patience had never been his strong suit, and I was set on pushing his limits now that I had him.
He hauled a pillow onto his face to absorb his garbled scream.
Kneeling on the hardwood floor, I took my time in removing his worn boots. His pants and underwear followed, each item of clothing sliding down his body slowly, unhurriedly.
I wanted him to squirm.
Rising, I smirked at him anxiously panting, on display for me, his knuckles white from how hard he clutched the pillow in an attempt to subdue his squirming.
“Are you just going to stand there?” He tossed the pillow at me. His chosen weapon hit my face, the softness eliminating any possibility of pain. “I swear I will—”
I leaped onto him, catching his wrists and slamming them into the mattress. “You will what?” Nudging his legs wide open, I settled between his thighs and sucked on his earlobe. “Speak up, Zion.” My teeth grazed the tissue, heating it up, and a groan fluttered out of him. “Tell me your fantasies.”
“I want to tie you up in my chains.” His feet slid across the sheets as he bent his knees. “I’ve jerked off to you too many times to count. But I don’t want things to happen only in my head anymore.”
“From now on, you are not allowed to touch yourself. If you need a release, you come to me for permission. Am I clear?” I moved down his front, running my tongue over every single scar.
He rose on his elbows. “That’s not—”
“Is that a no?” I paused, positioning myself to loom over him. “Are you really going to resist me? Because you are mine, Zion, broken or not. In shambles or whole.” I kissed the corner of his lips. “And only me and Kali get to decide what to do with you. To you.”
I needed him so wound up his mind would abandon him. Like that time in our shooting range, when he had dropped onto his knees and asked me to use him.
I was going to.
Morning, evening, day or night, I was going to map out the grooves of his body, from his ankles to his earlobes.
“Now, tell me what you want, and I might give it to you.” I left a trail of bites and licks all over his pelvis, but not where he wanted them the most.
His groans of frustration were pure bliss.
“Or do you want to beg and pretend this isn’t what you need, like Kali did mere minutes ago?
” I flattened my tongue on the underside of his base, dragging it up and then swirling around the tip.
“Good thing I have missed this, or I would wait until you respond,” I remarked before starting to suck him.
His exhales stuttered, coming out all choppy, and he seized my hair, tweaking fistfuls of my strands. Whether his efforts were directed at keeping me in place or yanking me away remained unclear as he both pulled and pushed erratically.
Nevertheless, I savored the thorns of pain exploding across my scalp.
The weight of him in my mouth called for heat to drip down my back, wrap around each vertebra, and fry my sanity into a single piece of char—carbon leftovers that spelled out my craving to consume him, take him for myself, hide him from the world and protect him at all costs.
As his cock bumped against the back of my throat, his hips jerked. I reached for his chest, finding his abused nipple and pinching it right as I swallowed him fully.
“Ge—” He choked. “No— Stop, fuck, stop, hell, hell.” He yelled the safe word.