Divine Solace: 8 (37 page)

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Lyda forbade Noah to go back into the guest house. When he’d
hesitated, obviously torn about leaving her with the damage there, Lyda had
given him a look that could have withered daisies. “In the house,” she said.
“My room.”

He followed her, Gen trailing behind. She had an idea of
what Lyda intended, but had no idea how she was going to accomplish it, since
the molecules around Noah were still jittering like a pending big-bang event.

When they arrived in the bedroom, Lyda pointed toward the
open door of the cage. “All clothes off. You’re in there until I say
otherwise.”

His stubborn look appeared. Lyda had obviously handled this
situation before, but the volatility surrounding the two made Gen’s gut clench.
Lyda stepped forward, met him toe-to-toe, despite the fact he was a few inches
taller than her. “Are you defying your Mistress, Noah?”

He shook his head, and looked entirely miserable. Lyda
touched his face. He closed his eyes as she caressed his jaw, his lips. His
body swayed toward her and he sank to his knees. He kept his back straight, but
head bowed, only inches separating his forehead from her abdomen. While she
didn’t close that distance, her touch was gentle.

“I’m glad you want to take responsibility for the
guesthouse. But right now, you need to serve your Mistress. I want you to calm
down and find your center again.” Her tone firmed. “Clean up your space on your
own time.”

That hit the right chord. Though his attitude was too close
to despair for Gen’s liking, after a few more tense moments, he pulled off his
T-shirt, removed his jeans and underwear. He folded them neatly as he always
did and placed them next to the cage. His meticulous care brought a lump to
Gen’s throat. From the stillness in Lyda’s expression, she thought the woman
might be feeling some strong emotion herself.

He went back to his knees and slid tiredly onto the mattress
inside the cage. Lyda bent, locked the door. “I have some things to do,” she
told Gen. “Sit with him. No talking. Come to me when he’s asleep.”

Noah had turned on his side, facing away from them, his back
rounded, knees drawn up. Lyda met Gen’s gaze and mouthed, “Peacefully asleep.”

Gen nodded and lowered herself to the floor beside the cage.
A mandate not to talk was probably a good idea, since it seemed like her words
had been the straw to set off his rage. But when she’d held him, he’d leaned
into her.

Maybe words really weren’t what were needed. Gen lay down on
her side outside the cage, slid up close to it and put her hand through,
resting it on his hip. She also threaded one leg through, pressing her toes
against the bottom of his curved foot. Without the bars, she could have spooned
with him.

She caressed his rib cage, felt him breathe in and out. Kneading
his muscles, stroking his bare spine with her knuckles, gliding over the rise
of his buttocks, she felt driven by a not-incongruous mix of maternal feelings
with those of a protective lover. She watched his shoulders as closely as Lyda
would, so she saw when they began to ease, his head sinking deeper into the
pillow. Eventually his even breath told her he slept. Peacefully. Remarkable
after the display of strife, but maybe when that broken part of his mind was
torn open, exhaustion overwhelmed him more quickly.

Unfortunately the aftermath didn’t have the same effect on
her. She was rattled to the core. Both by the incident itself—Noah being
attacked, his reaction to it—and how this might change how she felt about being
part of all of this. She needed information, answers.

When fifteen minutes had passed and his rest seemed
untroubled, she went to find Lyda. Though Gen was reluctant to leave him alone,
she was pretty sure Lyda wouldn’t have told her to leave him when he was
peacefully asleep unless she was sure he’d be safe. Being trusted to determine
what “peacefully” meant indicated Lyda trusted her judgment on Noah’s care. Gen
already knew a good Mistress didn’t do that lightly. While a part of her wanted
to react to the knowledge in a way similar to how she’d felt when M let her do
the books for Tea Leaves, she was too fragile to feel much about that.

Lyda was sitting on the back stoop, studying the sunset.
When Gen sat down next to her, the woman gave her a nod, offered her a sip from
her glass of wine. Gen took it, their fingers overlapping before Lyda
relinquished it and Gen took a healthy swallow. Then she put it back in her
hand.

“There’s more on the table there.” Lyda gestured toward the
screened porch behind her. “And another glass. Or you can keep sharing mine and
we’ll refill as needed.”

“Like in medieval times, when lords and ladies shared the
same trencher. Brendan told Chloe about that. She said it was romantic. I said
it was unsanitary.”

Lyda looked up at her with those fathomless gray eyes,
tilted the glass toward her again. “What do you say now?”

Rather than take it from her hand this time, Gen settled
next to her. Brushing a lock of loose hair from her own face, she held it there
as Lyda brought the glass to Gen’s lips. Gen settled her hand over Lyda’s,
changing the position of the glass. Lyda’s lips had left an imprint on the edge
and Gen made sure she put her mouth there, fingers overlapping Lyda’s again.
Their gazes met, even as Lyda kept tipping the glass. Slow, but intentional, until
Gen had several more very generous gulps, the alcohol spreading warmth through
her stomach. Then Lyda transferred the glass to Gen’s hold.

“Pour us some more. You looked like you needed that.”

She thought they both did, so Gen topped the glass and brought
it back. There were three steps to the stoop and Lyda sat on the top one. Gen
sat on the one just below her, the woman’s thigh pressed against her upper arm.
Lyda shifted, lifting one of those flexible legs and bringing it down on Gen’s
other side, giving her a nudge so she centered herself between Lyda’s knees.
Gen adjusted onto a hip, propping her back against Lyda’s leg so she could look
up into her face. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah. It’s always hard, to watch him tear himself apart
like that. It hasn’t happened in a while. Goddamn Elias.”

“Elias?”

Lyda glanced down at her. “Right. Sometimes you feel like
such a natural part of this story, I forget you arrived after we were already a
few chapters into it.”

It was a gratifying and unsettling observation, but Gen put
that away to listen.

“Back in New Orleans, Noah belonged to a Master named Elias.
Not the worst or best kind of Dom, but Elias had a tendency to get a little
carried away with the power aspect of it. Since most healthy subs know how to protect
themselves, it was a minor addiction problem, kept in line by that check and
balance. Noah was like crack to Elias.”

Gen could well imagine.

“When Club Progeny’s management recognized the risk, thanks
to a couple over-the-top sessions,” Lyda continued, “Noah’s membership was
revoked. He was too big a liability. Remember when I said a sub’s first
responsibility is to care for herself or himself? Well, Progeny took that shit
seriously. As they should.”

“Elias wasn’t expelled too?”

“Suspended, for a time, because they treated it as one
infraction rather than an affliction. Without Noah’s proximity, they might have
been right, like a drug user staying away from his drug of preference. But they
couldn’t control what happened outside the club. Elias moved Noah into his
house. One night things went so far, he put Noah in the hospital. Couple broken
bones, internal hemorrhaging from being kicked.”

Gen’s fingers had come to rest on Lyda’s knee. Now they
tightened, horror filling her. “Does that happen often in BDSM?”

“Abuse has no more place in a Dom/sub relationship than any
other relationship.” The firm set to Lyda’s jaw and warning flash in her eyes
underscored it. “However, a healthy D/s relationship looks different from a
healthy vanilla one, doesn’t it? The lines can get confused if the people
involved aren’t responsible enough.”

Gen thought of the night Lyda had switched her. Her ass had
been on fire from the punishment, but she’d also never come so hard in her
life. Yes, it definitely looked a little different from a vanilla dating
scenario.

“D/s brings a lot of things to the top, Gen. It’s why it’s
called Risk Awareness Consensual Kink. Human beings have endless communication
problems and weaknesses. Ones they sometimes don’t recognize the way they should
until it’s too late. Fortunately, after that incident, Elias realized his. He
cut Noah loose. Too little, too late, to my way of thinking, but I tend to be
an unforgiving sort.”

Gen wanted to go find the faceless Elias herself and pin him
up against a wall with her car. She thought of Noah leaning out over the water,
hands gripping the braided nylon lines, holding them taut to keep the boat
balanced and flying.

He was strong, healthy. He could defend himself. But he
hadn’t. She wanted to say she couldn’t comprehend it, but she thought of the
person she’d once been, the one who thought if she just kept loving her husband
and trying to be a good wife, it would work out. Though she’d wised up fairly
quickly, a shadow of what she felt then was undeniably connected to what Lyda
was describing about Noah.

“On its face, it seemed like Elias backing off resolved
things. But that cord was only cut in one direction. Elias didn’t tell Noah it
was over. He simply stopped visiting him in the hospital, and assumed Noah was
as done with it as he was. For all the time he’d spent with Noah, he still
didn’t get it. Not until Noah was discharged.”

Gen shook her head, a futile rejection of what she suspected
was coming. “No.”

Lyda nodded. “Noah went home. In his mind, that was to
Elias. Thank God, Noah wasn’t alone when he was discharged. A fellow sub had
picked him up, and when Noah made it clear where he was going, that sub texted
her Dom.” Lyda’s lips twisted. “Ironically, he’s a hardcore sadist who can dish
out pain like a trained interrogator. Yet he understands where the lines are,
more than Elias ever will. His sub, who’s also his fiancée, is as fiercely
cherished as Noah deserves to be.”

Gen puzzled over that. “I really have a lot to learn about
all this.”

“I’d say that goes for all of us.” Lyda gave her a fond
smile, something that helped loosen the band around Gen’s stomach. A little.

“What happened?”

“Ben, the Master she called, met them at Elias’ house. He
made sure Elias clarified the relationship was over. Elias handed Noah his
things at the door, pretty much threw him out and told him he was done with
him. Ordered him to give back his collar.”

Lyda passed an absent hand over her hair as she took another
swallow of wine, offered the glass to Gen. “Ben was smart enough to know Elias
wasn’t cured, and distance was the best plan. Which is where we come in. Ben’s
boss, Matt Kensington, is a friend of Tyler’s, and of course Matt’s a Master as
well. The D/s community is a tightly knit one. Matt contacted Tyler and told
him Noah had a grandmother in Tampa. He suggested Tyler talk to her and figure
out a way to get Noah down here. The grandmother has some health issues, so it
worked without being a lie. Tyler took Noah under his wing when he first
arrived, as a service sub, not sexual, but then he introduced him to me. I got
intrigued.”

Gen looked up into Lyda’s bemused face. “Do you regret
that?”

“No. He wasn’t something I was planning for my life…but he
took me by surprise. I find myself unable to let him go. Not because I’m worried
about protecting him, though there’s that. I like having him around. Have you
ever thought about Jesus, Gen?”

Gen blinked at the shift. “Is this where you tell me you’re
born-again and ask me if I’ve accepted Him as my savior?”

“No.” Lyda gave her a light pinch on her shoulder. “You know
how it’s supposed to be—that Jesus merely wants you to let him into your heart,
where he’ll love you unconditionally. He doesn’t choose which of us to love—he
waits for us to make the choice to love him completely, totally, which allows
him to love us completely as well.” She lifted a shoulder. “Or something to
that effect.”

“I’ve never really thought of it like that.”

“I hadn’t either, until I started trying to figure out Noah.
And I think the key is there, in a far more earthly sense.” Lyda’s lips curved
faintly. “That boy is definitely not Jesus, though he does have some of the
sexy rock star thing going on that Jesus has.”

Gen bit back a startled chuckle. She also had to suppress a
little twinge of horror, probably residual guilt from her mother’s Baptist
roots. Lyda looked at her, sobering.

“I don’t think anyone’s ever truly fallen in love with Noah,
Gen. They don’t look beyond the fact he’ll do anything for you, make life
easier, do any chore, give you screaming orgasms. Or that he’ll take anything
you dish out.” Her lips tightened and she looked out over the yard. “He has a
soft sense of humor, like clouds at sunset, and a mind so sharp he could design
aqueducts in Rome. He’s generous-hearted, smart and sexy. And when it comes to
this, he’s totally fucked up in the head, in a way I’m not sure can be fixed.”

Though that brought a wave of dismay, Gen was transfixed by
Lyda’s face, the emotions reined back behind the carefully chosen words. Lyda
had said a D/s relationship didn’t look like a vanilla relationship. But some
things actually did look the same. Marguerite had told Gen once she was a
watcher, a listener, and that she always knew more about people than they
realized she did.

Only someone truly in love with another could show such
poignant sorrow and unmitigated intent in that understanding. So whether or not
it was clearly stated, Lyda was in love with Noah, the light and dark of him.
And she obviously knew that love could bring as much pain as joy, but the latter
would be worth any amount of agony.