Divine Solace: 8 (54 page)

“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 Mistress 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 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
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.