Three-Part Harmony (20 page)

But so far, so not good. The clarity her music normally brought remained far-off and elusive, a dim light at the other end of a mental forest. A really big forest.

A forest filled with memories.

Memories she couldn’t stop from coming.

Memories filled with every brutal, intense, incredible minute from last night.

The minutes that had made this whole life thing a lot more tangled than she’d thought possible.

She rolled her eyes at that drama but the next second fought tears. She could no more ignore the emotional impact of what she’d done than the fact she’d done it. And done it with consent. Greedy, grateful, hungry, passionate consent.

With two men who had fulfilled her more than all the other lovers in her life combined.

Her knuckles went white around the guitar. She’d tried to write off the Lifetime Channel line as a twisted justification for her behavior and probably would’ve succeeded had it not been for everything that happened after last night in the dungeon.

Oh yeah. It was the
after
that kept doing her in.

First came the gentle journey in David’s arms to a bathroom that adjoined the dungeon, gleaming with black tile and gold fixtures, where Kress waited with warm towels that the guys swirled down every inch of her body. David disappeared then, while Kress laid her out on a velvet chaise and rubbed healing oils into her bruises, preparing each one with a tender kiss first. After that, he carried her into a palatial room dominated by a bed surely built for twelve people. She’d been glad to see only one occupant in the thing, however: David, his broad chest even more bronze and beautiful against the ivory satin linens, just before he pulled back the covers to let Kress slip her in next to him. The sheets were cool, but her two Doms were huge and warm; they held her and took turns murmuring praise to her. It didn’t take long for their voices to become her lullaby as her mind plummeted into a sweet, peaceful sleep.

When she woke this morning, she’d been relieved to do so alone. Before instantly yearning for both of them again. Of course, that was before she saw their invitation to join them upstairs for breakfast—and in awkward fear, tore the note up.

“Crap,” she blurted, setting aside her guitar, obeying her body’s demand for nervous movement. Though her backside protested a little, she lurched to her feet. “Crap, crap, crap!”

And the Grammy for Most Fucked-Up-in-the-Head Artist goes to…

“Dasha?”

She spun at the quiet greeting issued from the doorway, and was stunned to see Mary standing there. Immediately, she wondered why. She knew David had flown Mary, Raife, and the show’s whole creative team along with them to Atlanta. The hiatus provided a good excuse for some collaboration on adding new wow factor to the popular songs in the set. So her friend’s presence wasn’t the surprise…

Realization set in. She was bemused by Mary’s bearing. Correction, lack of one. Her friend was so…calm. And that was so not normal. The little dancer was always a whirlwind. It even looked like Mary was on her way to rehearsal, dressed in a gray T-shirt and sweats, her blonde hair pulled into a tight twist.

“Hey.” Dasha shook the weirdness free and gave in to genuine delight. She crossed and pulled her friend into a tight hug. “I don’t care why you’re here. I’m just glad you are!”

David would’ve been proud. It was the complete truth. When music couldn’t calm her rampaging nerves, choice number two had to be a girlfriend visit or an ice cream binge. Mary arrived just in time to save her from the latter.

“Ditto,” Mary replied. But when they pulled apart, her friend reverted to that strange concentration again, studying her from head to toe. “How are you? You look…really good.”

“And you sound surprised by that.”

“I think I am.”

Now her friend’s mien carried to her voice: a knowing undertone Dasha had never heard before. She chose to ignore it. Her head simply wasn’t bolted on properly right now.

She headed for the safety of humor. “So did David give you the secret spy passcode to get in here or just send you with thugs who blindfolded you along the way?”

To her relief, Mary chuckled. “Actually, Raife brought me.”

“Aha. So what’s the deal? Is the torture master breaking out some dance steps I’m going to kill him for, all in the name of ‘keeping the show fresh’?”

Just like that, Mary’s smile dropped back to Mona Lisa territory. “Torture’s probably on the menu, yeah.” Her eyes went wistful. “If I know Raife.”

Okay, it was official. Dasha wasn’t imagining the woman’s weirdness. Still, she tried a little half laugh. “Well, thanks for taking the detour my way.”

Before Mary responded, she scooped up Dasha’s hands. Her sky-blue stare didn’t blink this time. “David said you might need it.”

So much for mystery now. Her friend peeled off her veil of intentions with one clean sweep. “He said that, huh?” Dasha punched out a harsh breath, thinking—hoping—she still interpreted Mary wrong. “Well, well, well. What else did he tell you?”

Her friend’s gaze softened. But again, her regard was way too steady for comfort. “Pretty much the
Reader’s Digest
of what happened last night. Downstairs…in the dungeon.”

Dasha knew now why the woman clasped her like a wrestler. “Let me go.” She seethed with fury and embarrassment. How
dare
he share something like that, even if it was with one of her closest friends?

“No.”

“Mary, don’t—”

“No,
you
don’t. Before you tear out of here to crucify him, hear me out.”

“Oh, I’m planning more than a crucifixion.” Though a combination of a hammer, nails, and David’s balls sounded pretty good right now. Something to match how deeply he’d humiliated her.

“I know what you’re probably feeling—”

“I don’t think you do, okay?”

“Look at me.”

The woman backed the command with force that stunned. She grabbed Dasha’s chin to back it up. Not that it would have been necessary, once Dasha took in the overlay of new beauty on her friend’s face. Everybody always called Mary pretty, but this strength across her features turned her into a new creature. A person that murmured her power instead of shouted it. A woman wholly sure of her identity, especially after the next words she spoke.

“Dasha, Raife has been my Dom for three years now.”

For a long minute, she said nothing. As she stared at Mary, a playback tape began in her mind. She recalled all the moments where she’d marveled at the harmony between her two dance leads, all the subtle and thorough ways they seemed to know each other, as if reading each other’s thoughts…likely because they
had.
For three years. Even after these few short weeks with David, she’d started to understand that. Attentiveness, openness, and willingness…they were the very foundation of D/s relationships, weren’t they? She thought about all the new things she’d learned about David since New York, then tried to mentally multiply it by three years.

The overload of it made her sink back to the couch. “Whoa.”

Mary joined her. “I’ve wanted to tell you so many times. I always had the feeling you’d understand, but still…”

“Yeah.” Dasha chuckled. “Not the kind of thing you can spill over a latte and a scone.”

“To up your ‘whoa’ factor further, it’s actually how we met David.”

Dasha frowned. “He told me he saw you guys perform at a club.”

“Not a lie.”

“God forbid if David did that.”

Her friend took a turn to laugh. “Right. Honesty is up there on Raife’s list too. It was a lifestyle club. A place similar to your fantasyland downstairs, only open for lots of people to come and enjoy and learn new things.”

Dasha let her amazement show. “They do that?”

“Oh yeah.” Her friend’s face lit up now. “It makes for a
very
interesting night. And like I said, you learn all kinds of new stuff too.”

She watched the happiness light up Mary’s features all over again, feeling a little like Dorothy tossed anew into Oz. She’d been living in a black-and-white Kansas, and suddenly the world was brilliant Technicolor, with roads to places she’d never imagined. And friends on them that she’d never really known before now.

She had to force out her next question. “What…were you and Raife doing when David—uh—”

“Flying,” her friend answered with a wink.

“What?”

“Raife is into suspension bondage.” Now her look took on a naughty twinkle. “Rope,” Mary clarified. “Used in creative ways. Very creative…”

Dasha could only stare at her friend for another long moment. Mary looked half drunk now, her eyes glittering, her grin a loopy slide. She remembered staring at the same gleam in her own eyes, reflected back at her from the elevator doors at the Viceroy Miami. Right after David had given a very creative twist to the word piercing. A slow smile curved her lips.

“So…he tied you up and was doing what?”

Mary shrugged. “Oh…a little of this, a little of that. Some twirls, some spanks, a few whips, a few kisses, and some…other things.” Her eyes drifted shut; she sank against the cushions with a sigh. “Ahhh. Nobody does it better than my Master.”

Dasha looked away, grinning wider. Funny. She’d just thought the same thing about David.

And…right after that…Kress too.

Thunderheads curled in her chest again. The darkness curled downward, twisting her stomach. She knotted her hands there, forced her next words out.

“Mary…have you and Raife… I mean, has he ever…”

“Shared me?” Shockingly, she jingled with a new laugh. “Okay, I sort of suspected you’d ask.” She reached for Dasha again, resting a soft hand on her shoulder. “And yeah, it’s part of why David asked me to come talk to you.”

The words came out like such normal conversation, they didn’t register for a long moment. Then they hit like a piano tossed off a skyscraper. “Oh God.” Dasha gasped. “You mean—you and Raife—with—”

“Oh
God
!” Mary echoed. “With David? Oh my fucking stars, no!”

Dasha was actually grateful for the mirth they shared at that. It gave her a comfortable way to continue. “But…you have been with Raife and…someone else, then?”

There. She’d gotten it out. Even so, the statement astounded. Just a week ago, she and Mary had gone shopping in Miami, chatting the whole time about fashion, nail polish colors, and the hot but gay valet boys. Her friend, ever generous, had even let her have a good rant about Crystal the Pistol, as she’d taken to calling Dad’s new wonder staffer. Now they sat here discussing spankings, whips, and being at the mercy of two amazing men at once. Well, amazing in her case. She glanced at Mary, suddenly realizing her friend’s story might not be the same fairy tale. And what if Mary’s second “prince” had really been a terrible wolf? How would that change how she felt about Kress?

Because, she now forced herself to admit…she did feel things for Kress.

A lot of things.

Her thoughts got interrupted by Mary’s new statement.

“His name is Philip,” her friend gushed. Yeah,
gushed
was right. Mary’s eyes twinkled with brilliant blue joy—though Dasha noticed her lips quivering in sadness too. “And I’m missing him something fierce right now.”

Two feelings hit. Dasha was sympathetic for her friend’s heartache, but she welcomed a rush of relief too. “So…he still…”

“Plays with us?” Mary filled in. “Hell, yes. Though it’s been entirely too damn long since Master and I have seen him. The three of us met when we toured with Jennifer Lopez. When David hired Raife and me for your gigs, Jenn promoted Philip to her lead slot. He couldn’t say no.”

“You don’t say no to J.Lo,” she quipped.

“Not if you’re sane.”

“Especially if you’ve got the name of an ancient English prince.”

“Okay, biatch, watch what you’re saying.” They giggled again, but Mary sobered fast. “If it makes any difference,” she said, “I think I know what you’re feeling right now.”

Dasha leaned her own head back. “I guess you do.” She sighed. “So tell me it gets easier.”

Mary gave a contemplative hum. “Which part?”

She stopped to ponder that. Mary’s answer wasn’t what she’d expected. She’d hoped for another flippant laugh and a reassurance that the happy-ever-after button was going to get tripped any second now, that all of this would start making sense and life would work itself out. Whatever
that
meant. “The confusion,” she finally said. “And the…guilt. The crazy sense that you’re walking in a dream but never wanting to wake up from it. The feeling that you’re doing something so wrong…”

“That’s never felt so right?”

Dasha swallowed back tears. “Crap. Yeah.”

Mary gave a sympathetic sigh. “I wish I could give you the answer you want hon, but the path doesn’t get simpler. Discovering your submissiveness is just the first step. Figuring out what that entails and what to do about it… That’s where we’re all different. And a lot of times, it’s where all the shitty head-trip stuff comes in.”

“Hell,” Dasha groused. She appreciated the little snicker Mary gave up for it. But she twisted her fingers tighter into her friend’s grip. “I just know…that nothing has ever made me feel so…”

“Complete?” Mary whispered into her silence.

“Yes,” she admitted, equally as soft.

“Free?”

“Oh yes.”

“Loved?”

“Damn it.” She followed that awkward blurt by pulling her hand away in order to cover her eyes with it. “Yes,” she finally confessed. “Loved.”

“Which means, if I know you, that you give the love back in return.”

She didn’t move for a long second. At last, she nodded. It was true. The confession clamped on her heart with searing, scorching surety. She was in love with David. And every time he bound her physically, more of her heart got tied to him.

“But it can’t be real…right? How can you fall in love from…doing this?”

Mary smiled softly. “Don’t you mean how can you fall in love when it involves taking so much pain?”

Dasha winced. “Shit…yes.”

“Because it’s the pain that frees you, D. It’s what gets you to that pure place in your soul, beyond all the walls you’ve built around it, so the love gets set free.”