Divine Solace: 8 (55 page)

“So how did you explain things to the hospital staff?” she
ventured, hoping to cut his tension. His lips curved, though he winced at the
pressure on his lip.

“Told them it was a one-on-one game that got out of hand. We
never did say it was basketball, so it wasn’t really untrue, all said and
done.”

“No,” she agreed. She wanted to hold him again, the idea of
losing him still so close and terrifying. It was like being on that cliff all
over again. But she understood he had to make things square with Lyda first.

They went up the porch stairs. He held the door for her with
his usual courtesy, and she let her hand slide across his abdomen as she
stepped into the kitchen ahead of him. Lyda sat at the table. She’d pinched off
a piece of crust and was nibbling at it. She’d had Gen pour her a glass of wine
earlier and was still nursing that. Her leg was elevated on the opposite chair,
her other foot braced on the bottom rung. She cocked her head at the sight of
him.

“They did a good job setting the nose.”

“Yes Mistress. If it’s all right to call you that.”

“You took three fists to the face for the privilege. A
punishment I did not require.”

“No Mistress.”

Gen leaned against the counter so the field between them was
clear. The lingering heat from the oven couldn’t compete with the coolness in
Lyda’s gaze. Gen curled her hands into balls behind her, holding onto the oven
handle to keep herself in place. She had to trust their Mistress.

“Why, Noah? What made the difference?” Lyda asked.

“Does it matter?”

“No. I asked to hear the sound of my own voice.” Those
silver eyes became ice.

He had the grace to flush. Cleared his throat. “That day…”
He looked between them both. “On the mountain.”

It was something that irrevocably linked them, and one of
the main reasons Gen thought Lyda had kept the three of them sleeping together
in her large bed ever since she’d recovered enough to make that feasible. No
cages or guest beds, because when one of them woke, jerking from that
nightmare, as they seemed to take turns doing, the other two were there, to
comfort and hold in the middle of the night, confirming that it was the past,
not the present.

“When I was hanging onto Gen, hoping the car would stop
rocking… When I was pushing you up through the window, I kept having this one
thought. If I lost you both, there was no one I’d ever again have in my life
like you. No one who felt about me…the way the two of you do. Separately,
together.”

His brow furrowed. “It took me awhile to figure it all out,
Mistress. It was hard.”

Gen saw the expression she’d been trying to decipher since
the day she’d lambasted Lyda for being such a difficult patient. It was the
shadow of his soul, struggling behind that wall inside him, a wall he’d been
beating himself against, trying to break through it, figure it out, despite the
fact it was against his nature, finding a different path through those dark
woods.

“But then, there was this one thing,” he said. “Something I
couldn’t stop thinking, no matter how much I felt like I didn’t deserve to
think it. I wanted you both. More than I’d ever wanted anything.”

He took a deep breath. “Since as long as I can remember,
there’s always been this place inside myself. Everything point A to point B, no
curves, no confusion. No pain. Not really.”

Safe. Like Gen’s life had been. Every step planned so
there’d be no mistakes, no risks. She expected it was why she’d felt an
unconscious connection to Noah from the beginning, though she hadn’t recognized
that link until now. She wanted to step toward him, but held herself back. He
wasn’t done, his gaze still locked on the judge hearing his case.

“It was a prison,” he said. “I didn’t control anything that
came in, and I couldn’t let anything out. I took that choice away from myself
because it felt…the way it should be. Or so I thought. But until you and Gen
became something different than what I’d known, I didn’t realize that belonging
to anyone who wanted me, for however long they wanted me, but never having
anyone I felt like was mine…it was lonely.”

His voice broke, became a little thicker. His gaze dropped
to the floor and Gen saw his eyes get a little brighter as well. “I was never
enough for…”

Even now, he couldn’t say it, the source of that mindless
rage and pain. Lyda had suspected it had been the welding on those crossed
wires. When the agony fair vibrated from him, Gen knew why Dot had threatened
homicide toward her own blood.

“Who I was, it wasn’t enough,” he said quietly, giving up on
naming the faceless offenders. “So it made sense, to accept not having value,
not demanding anything for myself. You know?”

Gen’s throat was aching, tears threatening, a state
exacerbated by seeing the change in Lyda’s gaze. Those silver eyes were
becoming brighter, more focused, the result of a sheen of tears.

“You are enough for us, Noah,” Lyda said. Her voice was
strong, harsh. As painful as the grateful, overwhelmed look he threw at her.
Believing it. But he had more to say.

“If I lost the two of you, I wouldn’t be able to handle the
loneliness again. You and Gen, you understand who and what I am, accepted it,
but asked for more from me. You asked me to choose for myself. To give that
choice, who I am, value.”

Lyda pressed her lips together, gave one short nod. A tear
spilled down her cheek, a glistening, diamond track. “He
can
be taught,”
she said, her voice husky. Gen thought she would have brought him to her then,
but instead, their Mistress had another demand. “You owe Gen an apology.”

He looked toward Gen, raw sincerity etched on his face. “I’m
so sorry, Gen. Sorry for making you think that you were going to lose me. I…it
felt like I had to take care of Elias, finish that the way it should be
finished. But I wish you hadn’t had to feel that way, to doubt me, not even for
a minute.”

Gen bit back a sob, making his eyes darken. He stood there,
hands opening and closing helplessly. There’d been plenty of times when he’d
initiated contact, for comfort or sex, but she knew now he was waiting on their
judgment.

She shifted her gaze to Lyda. That judgment lay in Lyda’s
hands. Gen and Noah would make their amends a different way, a different time.
At the moment, she was just so overwhelmed by the possibilities finally, truly
unfolding, she was speechless and immobile, a fly on the wall.

“Come here,” Lyda said at last. Noah’s gaze turned to her,
finding her full attention on him. And her arms lifted and open.

The emotions gripping him were so strong, their usually
graceful man stumbled, but he made it to her chair. He sank down on his knees
beside it as Lyda wrapped her arm around his shoulders, gripped his T-shirt in
both hands. He pressed his face hard into her shoulder, but then she brought
his face up, put a kiss on his lips that she made hot, hard and needy. Coming
up off his knees, he put his hands to her waist, thumbs pressed hard beneath
her breasts as he answered the kiss with everything he could give her.

Watching them, Gen ached down to her soul. Still kissing
him, Lyda reached out a hand, and Noah did it in the same moment. Gen was
across the kitchen in a blink, kneeling on Lyda’s other side.

Their Mistress gathered them both to her, held them close.
They exchanged kisses until three mouths were tasting one another, exchanging
the sweet taste of wine, cherry pie and promises.

“You know, you’ve just ensured Marcus is going to keep Josh
chained to his side whenever he’s at a party where there are Dommes. Greedy
Dommes.”

At Lyda’s look, Gen lifted her hands. “I’m just saying what
Marcus said.”

“It’s not like I wheedled a life-sized statue out of him.”
Lyda rolled her eyes. “It’s going to be a small, eight-inch original, and I’m
still paying fifty percent of the asking price, which is exorbitant.”

“Yeah, because paying fifty percent for a Van Gogh wouldn’t
be considered outright robbery,” Noah put in. “Again, a quote. Heavy on the
sarcasm.”

“Insanely handsome gay men tend to be melodramatic,” Lyda
said, giving him a narrow look. “And vicious.”

“I’d tell him you said that,” Gen responded, “but I think
he’s already considering murdering you. At this party. There’s plenty of
property to bury your body.”

“And we’re right alongside a tributary that flows out to the
Gulf,” Noah added.

She and Lyda were strolling arm and arm through Tyler’s
gardens, Noah trailing after them. It was a short predinner break after
spending the last few hours enjoying the casual party of visiting friends. Gen
had been a little surprised Lyda had accepted the invitation, since they were
in the middle of the pre-Christmas rush that had even cut into their Sundays,
but Lyda had said they all deserved a day off.

Wonderful hors d’oeuvres, the company of good friends…
Brendan and Chloe were here, as well as Tyler and Marguerite, Violet and Mac.
Tyler and Marguerite’s visiting friends were Josh, Lauren, Marcus and Thomas. A
few weeks ago, feeling guilty, Gen had admitted her slip of the tongue to
Marguerite, as well as Lyda’s interest in Josh’s art, which made her wonder if
that was why they’d been invited. For her own part, she had a delicious
premonition about why she was now being included in this circle.

It was clear, from the dynamics casually demonstrated during
lunch and in the relaxing aftermath, that all the people present had
Dominant/submissive relationships and were cognizant of that common bond in the
guest list. Even though Chloe had already brought her into the know on what the
power distributions were, Gen found she could now tell Dom from sub herself,
from those little touches, the way the submissives deferred to their Masters or
Mistresses in entirely unique yet somehow similar mannerisms. Like her and Noah
to Lyda.

She and Noah mixed and mingled, enjoyed conversations, yet
there was always that thread of awareness connecting them to their Mistress.
What she needed or wanted from them at any given moment. In this environment,
that feeling was heightened, to a point that sexual arousal simmered between
them, making them all anticipate getting into the guestroom Tyler had offered
them tonight. Or maybe those things would happen earlier, in a less private
setting, another unsettling thought.

As the group became more comfortable with one another, she’d
seen touches becoming more intimate—and more obvious to everyone else.
Conversations started to be laced with murmured commands that were anything but
casual. Humorous innuendoes had serious undercurrents. The Doms were feeding
off one another’s energy, and it was fueling the submissives as well.

“So where do you think this is going?” She confronted it
head-on with Noah, albeit in a low voice, as they returned to the group and
Lyda left them to talk to Marguerite.

He slid an arm around her and, confirming her feeling about
what was happening, the hand that would have curved around her waist an hour
ago was much lower now, stroking her hip, her buttock. She pressed against him,
lifted up to tease his throat with her lips. “Did she tell you to do this?”

“Not directly.” His brown gaze caressed her, making her
blood run even warmer, as if he was a fire heating it. “But I’m getting the
distinct impression all the Doms are on the same track. Tyler has a dungeon,
you know. With top-grade equipment.”

Gen felt her eyes widen. “Would Lyda…” At Noah’s look, she
swallowed. Hard.

All she could think of were the possible uses of that
equipment, the things she might see. The scenery alone… Her gaze slid over all
of the assembled submissives. Noah, Mac, Josh, Brendan, Thomas. Holy God.

“You could pretend that seeing them all naked appalls you.”
Noah gave her an aggrieved look, though she saw the humor behind it, and his
anticipation as well. Sliding her arms around his waist, she stroked the firm
landscape of his abdomen through his shirt.

“I’ll imagine what Lyda might let me do to you,” she
whispered.

Cocking his head, he swept his gaze meaningfully over her
throat and breasts, making it clear which submissive he was most interested in
seeing naked. She flushed. “Or let you do to me,” she allowed, clearing her
throat.

A more distinct and imperious cleared throat drew their
attention. Lyda was giving them a look, brow raised. Gen lifted both hands
clear of Noah in an exaggerated “I wasn’t doing anything” gesture that had
their Mistress’s lips quirking.

“There will be time enough for that,” she promised.

Everything tightened up in Gen except her weak knees as Lyda
spoke clear enough that everyone at the party could hear. It was tantamount to
an open declaration of where they might be headed…publicly.

Lyda’s gaze shifted to the assembled, who’d taken seats
around the patio where they were sharing afternoon cocktails. With Noah and Gen
the only ones now standing in her proximity, Gen realized it felt like they’d
stepped onto a stage.

“When Marguerite invited me to this event today,” Lyda said,
“it was because I told her I was seeking the right time and place to do
something I’ve wanted to do for several months now. She suggested this, and I
agreed.”

Giving Noah and Gen a significant look, she sat down in a
patio chair. She pointed to the space directly in front of her. “Come here,”
she said.

Even knowing Chloe, Marguerite and Tyler were part of the
audience, Gen felt no self-consciousness, which said a good deal about how far
she’d come in this journey and her trust of Lyda. She remembered those words…
if
I ask for your submission in public, it’s because you can trust me to keep you
safe
… Now she understood that meant safe physically and emotionally. Safe
from humiliation or the wrong kinds of pain.

As such, Gen led herself and Noah to Lyda, taking the lead
in them both kneeling before her. Gen was aware of Chloe’s intent regard to her
immediate left, her friend clasping Brendan’s hand as if anticipating something
quite wonderful. Butterflies fluttered in Gen’s stomach.

Lyda touched Gen’s face, caressed Noah’s shoulder. “I’m not
the nurturing sort. Nor especially sentimental. But once I make a decision, I
don’t turn back from it, do I?”

They shook their heads. In the corner of her other eye, Gen
saw Marcus, his arm stretched behind Thomas. Thomas had leaned forward, but his
knee was pressed against Marcus’, evidence of that connection between them. Mac
stood behind Violet’s chair, watching, the large male just as attentive. One
more shift of her glance and there was Josh. As always, the artist looked
sleepy and somewhat distracted, but right now those gray eyes behind their
wire-rimmed glasses were unusually keen. He was sitting on the grass next to
the edge of the patio, where Lauren sat in a chair, her legs crossed. He had
his hand loosely wrapped around her calf, a possessive gesture that didn’t
negate the dynamic of Mistress and sub that existed between them. Now that she
understood more about those possessive feelings herself, it made sense to her.

She brought her gaze back to Lyda. Behind her stood Tyler
and Marguerite. Marguerite sat on a padded bench to Lyda’s right, and Tyler
stood at her back, his hand resting on her shoulder. Gen noticed how his thumb
caressed the base of her throat, the seed pearl choker. Marguerite met her
gaze, those pale-blue eyes luminous.

Bringing her full attention back to Lyda, Gen found her
Mistress waiting on her. Lyda’s expression wasn’t impatient or offended. It was
as if she wanted Noah and Gen to understand the solemnity of the occasion by
absorbing the others’ reactions.

“I made a decision, right before you made yours, Noah.” Lyda
met his gaze. “It’s a good thing you went down the right path with Elias, else
I would have been wasting my money. And you know how I feel about that.”

“Yes Mistress,” he ventured. He was obviously as unsure what
this was about as Gen, but when Gen’s hand crept into his at her side again, he
clasped it.

Marguerite drew a small velvet bag from under the cushion
next to her, placing it in Lyda’s palm when she turned to her. “I’m not much
for collaring. And I told you I don’t really have a use for marriage. Do you
remember?” Lyda’s gaze shifted to Gen.

Gen nodded. “I believe in action, not words,” Lyda
continued. “I don’t even particularly believe in symbols, but when presenting a
symbol is an act that says a million things words can’t…well, that’s
different.”

Gen drew in a breath as Lyda opened the small bag and
deposited the contents into her hand. It was a trio of rings. One delicate
silver, one a handsome gold, and one a twisted band of both, the thinner silver
like a vine weaving around the thick gold. The mixed band and the silver were
obviously women’s rings, the gold a man’s ring.

Lyda met Gen’s gaze, shifted between it and Noah’s. “By
taking them, wearing them, we’re promised to each other. Faithful through thick
and thin, through car wrecks and laundry, cancer and even poor movie
selections.”

A ripple of laughter came from around them, but Gen was
staring into Lyda’s eyes. Despite the wry comment, her eyes were serious,
intent, the whole world there. Noah’s fingers tightened on hers, hard.

“It means you belong to me, and I will care for you. It
means I love you both more than anything. It means I’m in love with you, and I
want that love to keep growing until we’re as twisted together as the band I’ll
wear, showing that this promise is made to you both. You’re under no obligation
to take the rings—”

She and Noah reached for them in one motion. Lyda’s hand
closed over them, preventing the retrieval, but the smile transformed her face
as another murmur ran through the group, reflecting the pleasure and approval
in Lyda’s eyes. Gen also saw the swell of emotion at their quick response.
Following impulse, she kept her hand resting on Lyda’s closed one. Noah’s
overlapped them both, his longer fingers closing over Gen’s, fingertips
brushing the sides of Lyda’s hand.

It was Noah who spoke for them both.

“There’s nothing we want more than to belong to you and you
alone, Mistress. We love you too.” The desire and love in his eyes was
unmistakable. “And in truth…I see myself as belonging to you both.”

Gen touched his face. “Same goes.” She shifted her gaze to
Lyda. “We’re all yours, Mistress. And, if it’s not too presumptuous, we feel
like you’re ours.”

“Doesn’t matter if it’s presumptuous or not, it’s always the
way it seems to work.” The wry comment came from Violet, echoed by a snort from
Marcus.

Lyda looked between her two subs, then nodded to Gen, an
unspoken command. Gen withdrew her hand and Lyda opened her fingers. Her
Mistress picked up the delicate silver ring, putting the other two to the side
for the moment. When she took Gen’s hand, slid the band onto her left finger,
she met Gen’s gaze. “Mine, rabbit.”

Then she leaned forward, kissed her forehead, her nose, her
mouth. The lingering kiss was followed by a look that said
I-mean-it
on
every level. Gen couldn’t say anything, her throat closed with emotion.

Lyda picked up the gold band. As she and Noah locked gazes,
Gen felt that thickness grow to a sweet ache. While her and Lyda’s story had
had its ups and downs, this possibility had been far more precarious for Lyda
and Noah. Those fears were now gone, no foothold to find when Noah was staring
at Lyda as if she was everything.

Lyda pushed the ring over his knuckle. As she did, he turned
his hand, captured hers in a very unlike Noah aggressive move…if one didn’t
know the depth and strength of certain emotions he carried. He pressed his lips
to her knuckles, his body bending toward her until his head touched her knees.
She doubled over him, tangling her hand in his hair, pressing her lips against
his nape, rubbing her cheek there.

“Don’t you ever forget,” she whispered. Gen glimpsed Lyda’s
face in a rare, entirely unguarded moment. “Don’t break my heart.”

When he lifted his head, his expression was raw devotion.
“Never. I’ll take care of both of you, Mistress. Through everything and
anything.”

He’d said it before, or things like it, but now it meant
even more than before. Gen realized he’d picked up the final band when he bent
over Lyda’s hand. He looked at Gen. In accord, she supported Lyda’s hand as
Noah slipped the ring on their Mistress’s finger. Then their newly decorated
hands were tangled together, a hard knot that conveyed a lot of emotion, including
tears, as Noah surged up on his knees and hugged both her and Lyda. He rained
kisses on their mouths and necks, kisses they returned as best they could while
laughing, since Lyda threatened dire things if he didn’t stop slobbering over
the two of them like a golden retriever. Lyda’s laughter was as welcome to
Gen’s ears as a spring rain on new flowers.

The popping of a cork brought them back to the present
surroundings. Champagne had been brought by Tyler’s housekeeper, Sarah, and
flutes were being filled, distributed by Brendan. He bent and gave Gen a kiss
on the cheek, Noah a quick, hard hug. Chloe drew Gen up for a hug as well.

“I’m so, so happy for you,” the girl whispered. “You three
look perfect together. I’ve never seen Noah look happy. Not the real kind. The
last-a-lifetime kind.”