Divine Solace

by Joey W. Hill

He tried to move her again. She dug in her heels, gripped his arms to hold him. He'd have to drag her. She clung to rage, because otherwise she'd have to bear the horrible truth that the past few weeks had been a false happiness. The unresolved issue was right here, ignored but never gone, patiently waiting to ambush them all. The wall was still behind his eyes, never gone, just obscured by her idealism, which was once again leading her to heartbreak. Don't do this to me. To us. To Lyda.

  "Can you not understand that you owe it to people who truly love you to love them back? To choose them? There's no greater gift you can give us, than to lay yourself all out there for that one...or two...specific people, and let them know that your heart and soul is unconditionally theirs. Not just any asshole who comes along." She was poking a stick right into that rage-trigger, but she didn't care. The alternative was unthinkable.

  "You just said it," he said, his chin set, gaze dispassionate. "My choice. Please stand aside, Gen. If you have any regard for me, step aside."

  She looked toward the porch. Lyda stood there, leaning on the cane. She had that locked expression Gen knew too well. It cut her heart to ribbons.

  "Come here, Gen," Lyda said, holding out a hand. "Come to me."

  "No." It was a broken plea. It became even more excruciating when she saw the strain around Lyda's tight mouth, the terrible knowledge in her eyes. There is a wire crossed in his mind... Those goddamn, fucking crossed wires.

  "Fine. Fine." She thrust away from Noah, turned on him. "You'd sacrifice your life for us, but you won't fucking choose us. You'd break our hearts rather than do that. That's worse than letting us die, Noah. But if that's what your fucked-up brain says to do, then go with him. Don't wait for Lyda to let you go, because if she does let you go, it's because you forced her to let you go. She knows she doesn't deserve to be treated like this by you. Neither of us do."

  He was flinching as if she was hitting him with the shovel now, but she wouldn't stop. She had two people in her life to protect, one at her back and one at her front. The one at her front needed to hear the truth of it, even if it never sank into his broken mind. The one behind her might deny ever needing Gen's defense, but Gen had been inside Lyda deeply enough now to know there were parts of their formidable Mistress that were as capable of being hurt and destroyed as anyone else. Especially when she opened herself to love, as she had.

  "If he beats you, kills you, that won't be the real tragedy, Noah. It's that he'll eat your soul, because he doesn't really know what it means to love you. To accept you as who you are. You deserve that, you're smarter than this. I spent years of my life figuring it out, years I'll never get back."

  She stepped up to him. She knew his body well enough to jerk the shirt up and reach behind him to find it without searching. Her hand landed on that scar, the one that had bifurcated Yours and unconditionally, and erased the "un". "Love can be given unconditionally, but the recipient should never accept it that way. They should spend their lives working for it, because that kind of love deserves to be earned. It has to be. You don't value what you don't have to earn, even if it's a gift."

  "Gen." Lyda's voice was quiet, firm. "Come here. Be with me."

  Gen stared up into Noah's face. He wasn't looking at her. He was looking at Elias. Despairing, she looked over her shoulder. Elias was staring at him, absorbed in Noah's response. Neither one of them was aware of her anymore. She had no idea who that made her want to hit with the shovel more, Noah or Elias.

  Making her feet move was like dragging concrete blocks across the grass, but her heart was the heaviest load of all. She looked toward the only solace capable of keeping her from crumpling. Though Lyda's face was as smooth and dispassionate as it always was in such moments, that mask was no longer opaque to Gen. Beneath it, she saw Lyda's understanding, her compassion...the suffering they shared.

  Lyda was an island, yes. A strong, remarkable island reserved in expressing her emotions, but she had them. She was just a different language to learn, as Noah was a different language, as Chloe and Marguerite were different languages. And yet all of those languages had a word for love, for tears, for loss, disappointment and pain.

  She mounted the stairs. She wanted the men to go. She didn't want to see what Elias did next or worse, Noah. But she wasn't to be given that reprieve.

  "Again," Noah said.

  She turned to see he now stood where Gen had stood, where he'd stood before Elias had hit him in the face that first time. Elias arched a brow. "Penance?"

  Noah said nothing. Elias landed another direct punch in his face and Noah went down again. She saw the spurt of blood from his mouth as he fell to one knee.

  Lyda gripped Gen's arm, held her in place when Gen surged forward. She used enough pressure to push Gen down onto the top stair. "Stop this," Gen begged her. She gripped Lyda's leg, hard. "Call the police. Tell Elias to leave. Please."

  Lyda leaned over enough to keep a firm hand on her shoulder. Though she assumed Lyda had heard her, her Mistress kept her attention locked on Noah. When Gen shifted her gaze back toward Noah, she saw he looked toward Lyda when he got up, before he turned back to Elias. Noah spat blood on the ground.

  "Again."

  Gen bit back a scream of frustration. Lyda sank down in a porch chair, which allowed her hand to stay on Gen's shoulder, holding tight, fingers tangled in Gen's T-shirt collar.

  Elias gave him a narrow look. "That's starting to sound like an order, Noah."

  When Elias hit him this time, Gen heard a bone crunch. She cried out. Noah staggered backward, but this time he didn't fall. Instead, he shook his head to clear it of the pain and stepped up once more. When he lifted his head, his nose was bleeding. Lyda had her arm banded over Gen's chest, Gen straining against the hold.

  Elias was looking a little uneasy, even if the expression was mixed with an unhealthy dose of satisfaction at his display of power. As Lyda had intimated, Noah was his drug of choice. Gen felt sick.

  "Noah."

  Thank God, Lyda spoke. Her tone bore that severe edge Gen knew meant she was at the end of her tolerance. Glancing up, Gen saw her silver eyes had gone to ice. From his startled glance, it was clear Elias realized she'd included him in her displeasure.

  The only one who hadn't changed expression was Noah. Except for the brief, involuntary reaction to pain, he was as dispassionate as Lyda in her most ruthless moment. "Once more," he said softly. "And then it's done."

  Though Gen felt like he was speaking to Lyda, he was looking at Elias.

  Elias's jaw tightened. "You've asked for punishment before."

  "The punishment should fit the crime. That's what you always told me."

  "I'll do one more, and that's it. If she's letting you go, then you come back with me to New Orleans as promised. Tonight. I have plans for that bleeding mouth."

  Noah said nothing. He waited. Despite the power of that last punch, he didn't even appear to brace himself.

  It happened so fast, Gen couldn't follow it. Elias threw the punch, but it never connected. Instead Noah was holding his fist in a tight grip, having caught it like a pitcher snagging a line drive straight from the mound.

  Finally, his expression changed.

  Dispassion became all about passion. Lips peeled back from his teeth and he twisted the arm, stomping the back of Elias's knee as his former Master's body spun from the force and Noah drove him to his knees. Gen heard a crack and knew she was hearing some portion of Elias's arm break, his hoarse cry confirming it. Noah followed him down to the ground, landing on one knee behind him, holding his head to the dirt, pressing it there. Keeping him still, immobile. A shudder ran through his body, a quiver of energy that Gen saw translated to his calloused palm, the strength he held there, the force. Noah would crush his head with only the power of what boiled inside of him.

  "Noah."

  Lyda's tone could have pierced a full force gale. Which was what was needed to bring Noah's head up. As his eyes found her, Gen saw that terrible, deadly rage. "Stop," their Mis
tress said. A simple, not-to-be-disobeyed command.

  When Lyda squeezed her shoulder, Gen picked up on the cue. "Noah," she repeated. She put all her feelings into it, everything she'd felt when she'd raged at him before, the same passion for a different purpose. To save him from himself. "Noah."

  As the scale teetered, Noah on the verge of a life-altering decision, Gen clung to the memory of Dot's words, how he'd never hurt a living being, and prayed for that to win out against the fury, a lifetime of suppressed anger that now pulsed off him like poisonous radiation.

  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 loo
ked 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 thank 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.