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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, 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."
