Nature of Desire 8 - Divine solace

by Hill, Joey W.

  God help her, if they couldn’t stop him, if he crushed Elias’s head, she knew she would dig the hole herself to bury the body, cover up that crime, protect Noah. Even knowing, with despair, he’d never allow her to do that.

  His gaze shifted between them. After a tense moment, he eased Elias’ face off the ground. He stepped away from him, stared at the man in the dirt for another weighted second before he at last moved toward him again. Gen held her breath, but this time Noah eased Elias up, back into a sitting position on his heels. As he steadied him, then helped him to his feet, Noah was as gentle with him as he’d been brutal moments before.

  “I’ll take you to the hospital,” Noah said. “We’ll get your arm and my nose fixed at the same time.”

  Elias was blinking at him like an animal stunned by a glancing blow from a car. “I belong to them now,” Noah said. “I choose them. I don’t want to be with you again. Now or ever.”

  Gen’s relief was so strong it was dizzying. Lyda’s steadying hold was still on her shoulder, so she gripped her fingers, drew strength from the return pressure.

  Elias cradled his arm, his brow creased. “Why did you let me hit you?”

  “Punishment. For allowing you to mistreat her property. Her guest house, the bed.” Noah paused, shifted his gaze to Lyda’s. “And me.”

  * * * * *

  Gen wanted to drive them to the hospital. She was terrified this new side of Noah would disappear and he and Elias would disappear together. But Lyda said it had to be this way. That they had to trust.

  It told Gen she’d never make a good Mistress. She didn’t have the will power to be that hands off. She was a middle ground. Under Lyda’s direction, she had a touch of Domme and a lot of submissive. However anyone wanted to define it, it didn’t really matter.

  Lyda made her come to the nursery office with her. Though they were closed today, Lyda had her work up some invoices, do paperwork with her. It kept them busy, but there wasn’t a lot of conversation. Gen nursed a hope laced with fear, because it didn’t seem quite finished. It wouldn’t feel done until Noah came back. Gen knew they were both listening for Noah’s return. Noah carried a cell phone while on deliveries, one that Lyda had insisted he carry. When Lyda let Gen call it, it rang under a stack of papers on top of the file cabinet.

  “He’s always forgetting it.” Lyda sighed. “I’ve threatened to put a collar on him and lock the cell phone to it like a dog’s license tag so he’ll remember it.”

  Gen held his phone in her hand, imagining the warmth of Noah’s palm. “Are you worried he won’t come back?”

  Lyda spun her pen on the desk, a meditative movement. “Yes. But he chose, Gen.”

  “What if it’s a one-time thing, and being alone with Elias, he reverts…”

  “What could we do about that? Chain him here?”

  “You do havea cage. And you could padlock the emergency exit part of it.”

  Lyda’s lips twitched. “There’s a difference between edge play and criminal behavior, rabbit.”

  “What would you call that out there, between them?”

  “Not either one,” Lyda said. “Not exactly.”

  Gen didn’t agree with that, but she’d been playing the whole scene in her head, over and over, and a question was burning in her brain. One she shied away from, unsure she wanted it clarified. But she’d ask anyway. “Noah saw himself as taking a punishment for you. And you knew that, stood there and let it happen. Didn’t you?”

  The troubled look that entered Lyda’s gaze eased some of her concerns. “Did you know what he was doing when he was letting Elias punch him?” Gen asked.

  “Not exactly. It was how Noah looked at me, before each punch and right after, that made me think…” Lyda shook her head. “I can’t explain it, Gen, and you probably won’t like my answer. I figured out he was sending me a message. Though I wasn’t sure what it was at first, I knew I’d rather Elias beat him to unconsciousness here, in my front yard, where we could get him to a hospital, than have him take him off to a hotel room and leave him to bleed to death.”

  “Criminal behavior, not edge play.”

  Lyda nodded. “When you endanger your sub’s life, even if that’s what he wants you to do, you’re not being a responsible human being, let alone a responsible Dom.”

  “Would you have stopped him?”

  “Yes. That last punch, when he broke his nose, was it.” A grim smile touched Lyda’s lips. “That was all I would tolerate.”

  Gen didn’t know how she’d tolerated any of it. She wondered if she would ever fully understand the tangled dynamics that drove a relationship as intense as the one in which she’d found herself. She hoped she might have time to find out. Lots of time. But she’d never go through something like that again. If Noah came back… When he came back, she’d make that clear to both of them. She’d hit Noah on the head with a shovel and put him in the cage herself if needed.

  “I wish you’d let me go to the hospital, if for no other reason than to be with him. I’ve seen a nose set before. It hurts like hell.”

  “He had to do this one on his own, from beginning to end. Let’s go pull out those fresh cherries you brought home from the Whole Foods market. You and I are going to make a fresh cherry pie. Noah loves my cherry pie.”

  Gen looked over at her. Lyda was on the office couch, her papers spread out on one of the empty cushions, laptop on the coffee table. “Can I have something I’ve never asked for from you?”

  Lyda gave her a steady look. “If you need it, it’s yours.”

  Holding onto Noah’s phone, Gen came to Lyda and slid onto the couch, drawing up her legs so her upper body leaned into Lyda’s. Understanding, Lyda wrapped her arms around her, her body adjusting to cradle Gen across her lap, letting her put her head on her shoulder, her face against the side of Gen’s.

  “We can’t lose him,” Gen said.

  “I know.” Lyda held her tighter. “We’ll be all right. We’re strong women, Gen. We survive everything. Fire, flood, divorce, death. Even broken hearts.”

  * * * * *

  By the time Gen heard a car bumping up the gravel of the residential access drive, they’d made the pie crust from scratch, baked the pie, and set it out on a rack to cool. Looking out the window, she saw one of Tyler’s cars, a silver Jaguar sedan.

  “I texted him,” Lyda explained. “Asked him if he would meet Noah at the hospital. The idiot left his wallet on the dresser, which has his insurance card in it. I wasn’t trusting Elias to take care of that. It wasn’t his job to take care of it, anyway.”

  When Gen’s expression changed, Lyda gestured. “Go and bring him to me.”

  Gen practically flew out the door and down the steps.

  Noah was getting out of the car stiffly. The cut on his mouth was no longer bleeding, his nose was no longer crooked and he was carrying an ice pack for all of it. His shirt was still stained with dried blood. Gen didn’t care. She wrapped herself around him, albeit gently, and cupped his skull in her hands as he bent down to her height, returned the favor of banding his arms around her as well.

  “Don’t you ever do that again,” she scolded.

  “What? Choose you? Is it that horrible of a decision?”

  She pinched his arm as she slid back down to her feet. “Ow,” he said mildly. His expression was tired, but there was a peacefulness there. Not the usual floating Zen peacefulness she’d teased him about before she realized it was a lack of will to decide his own fate. This was something different. As he glanced toward the house, it was disrupted by a trace of nervousness. It made her want to hug him again.

  “She’s waiting for you,” Gen said. “She made a cherry pie.”

  “Hmm.”

  Gen looked toward Tyler. He’d gotten out of the car, but stayed on his side, the engine still running. He’d realized this wasn’t a time to entertain a guest, even if that guest was the kind who’d drop everything to make a run to the hospital and intervene for a friend. Gen mouthed than
k you to him. In response, the amber eyes warmed.

  “Take care of him.”

  Nodding, she followed Noah. He’d taken a few steps toward the house and stopped. As the luxury sedan purred away down the drive, Gen gripped his hand.

  “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.

  Epilogue

  “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, whic
h 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.