Three-Part Harmony (32 page)

“Mark—”

“Shut up. Just shut up, Crystal.”

Everyone in the cabin went still. Her father turned, scrubbing a hand across his jaw. “I need to say just two things to you.”

Crystal raised her chin with queenly dignity, acting as if she stood on the red carpet at some DC gala. Dasha admitted it; the move was ballsy. And delusional.

Dad leaned toward her. Dasha watched his shoulders bunch up hard. “First—if you even sneeze in my daughter’s direction ever again, I’ll hunt you down, wherever you are, and end your sorry life myself. And second—”

He grabbed a dish towel, using it to lift the big pot off the stove top and dump its contents down the front of Crystal’s pants.

“I hate your
goddamn stew.”

* * * *

The setting sun painted the pines in deep gold and amber. A twilight breeze brushed the air, crisp and sharp. Dasha took a deep lungful of it, trying to ingest the peace it promised. But like the other ten times she tried, the effort was futile.

She was alive. And it was a miracle. A gift from fate she couldn’t ignore. Which meant she had to honor the other gift she’d been given in these crazy, amazing weeks. She’d learned the lesson of speaking her truth…especially when that truth involved the two most important men to her.

She just had to stop thinking about what would happen afterward. That telling them both could mean losing them both. David and Kress had played nice so far, but that was with the understanding that everything was temporary. On a day-to-day basis, they both woke up and poured possessiveness into their coffee along with the cream—and she didn’t envision either of them going cold turkey on it either.

But your alternative sucks. Big-time.

The alternative
wasn’t
an alternative. She’d almost died with this confession still locked in her heart, and it had been her own personal, tiny glimpse of hell. They both had to know. And then she had to deal with the consequences, whatever they looked like.

What
did
a double broken heart look like?

She was saved from the brood about that by a rustic creak behind her. Somebody had stepped out of the cabin, then started approaching. Her heart, still thrumming in her throat, sped up again. David. The forceful footsteps in the pine needles gave him away. As soon as he stepped into view, her throat closed completely. It wasn’t fair that total fatigue always made him look this good. The dark stubble across his jaw, the roguish spikes of his hair, and the overcaffeinated sparks in his eyes… Oh yeah, they all flipped pancakes in her stomach. The effect was even worse now because something else defined his features: total adoration, funneled on her.

“It’s getting cold.” He took off his jacket and swept it around her shoulders. “What are you still doing out here? I opened the car; the heater’s on.”

“I know.” She pulled one of his hands to her lips. “And I appreciate it. And thank you. But…”

He shifted that hand, wrapping it around hers. “But what?” He coaxed her face up with his other hand. “You okay?”

“I need to say something.”

Well
that
was graceful.

No points for grace, D. Stick to the mission.

As she expected, his gaze went dark pewter. “All right.” His voice hardened to the same texture.

“It—involves—” She escaped his scrutiny for a second by stealing a glance toward the cabin. “Where’s Kress?”

The subject of her question lumbered out just as she said it, looking modern-highlander hot in his head-to-toe black and wild hair. His own face went a bit heavy metal when he saw her. He jerked a brow at David. “I thought you put her in the car ten minutes ago.”

“I thought the same thing. But sometimes, as we know, this one doesn’t listen the first time.”

“Well. That creates endless possibilities for discipline, doesn’t it?”

David grinned. “Well said, my friend.”

“If only half my guys weren’t still crawling all over this place.”

“Hmm, yeah. If this place wasn’t Grand Central Station right now…” The grin became a sinful smirk. “Talk about a subbie who wouldn’t be safe.”

Dasha folded her arms. “While we’re on that subject, let’s stop talking about the subbie like she isn’t here, okay?”

Both Kress’s brows jumped this time. “Oh-ho-ho.” He cocked his own grin right at her. “Yes, ma’am. Or should I say ‘Yes,
Mistress’
?”

David sobered then. “She’s told me she needs to say something.”

Kress caught the don’t-mess-around vibe. “Oh?”

“And I’m thinking it involves us both.”

Dasha stunned herself by taking her own turn to smile. “You’re right. It does.”

“Oh?”

Kress echoed the word with an overlay of tension. Dasha wheeled her smile to him with a dose of
down, boy
in it. She took in one more breath of the forest air, really needing its crisp power now.

“I almost died today.” Again, no grace points. But it was an excellent place to start. “And when it was happening…when I was looking down the barrel of that gun…my head filled with a lot of things. The things in my life that really mattered. And what kept me together, what kept me from completely giving in to fear…was listening to you guys. Both of you.”

Almost as if they shared one brain, the two men frowned. “Listening to us?” David charged.

“Yeah.” She nodded and looked up into their beautiful, rugged faces. “I heard your voices. I heard them, and I hung on to them, and it made things better. I felt so strong.”
Deep breath. Deep breath.
“But…I also felt terrible.”

“Great,” Kress quipped. “Thanks.”

“I felt terrible because I was about to die without telling you both how much I loved you.”

There. She’d done it.

She wanted to squeeze her eyes shut and throw up. But it was like she watched a car wreck; she stared at both of them, taking in the total vanishing act of their frowns. She tried to read their subsequent unblinking stares. She watched as both their mouths gyrated, struggling with words, but not meeting success.

“I—I know you both thought I was babbling when I said it last night, after we finished at the mansion.”
Idiot, idiot.
She wasn’t making this better, was she, by elaborating for them? “But…I wasn’t. And I should’ve been clearer; I know that now, but I got freaked out. I mean, how is it possible that I’ve fallen in love with two men, right? What kind of a woman does that make me? I still have no clue. But…God…just an hour ago, all I could think was that my brains were about to be blown out, and I’d never had the guts to make sure that both of you knew how amazing you are…and how lucky I’ve been, to have
two
men in my life to feel this way about.

“And so—” She shrugged, nervously bouncing on the balls of her feet to keep from bolting. “There it is. If you’re freaked out, then…that’s okay. I wouldn’t blame either of you. But you both needed to know it. I love you, David Pennington. And I love
you,
Kress Moridian. And if that makes me wrong, then—”

David was the one to steal the rest of it from her, with a solid, thorough kiss that he deepened by grabbing her nape and angling her face high and back for him. She couldn’t help but open up, joyously letting his tongue rake wherever he wanted, surrendering to the hot flood he shot through her body.

He only broke away because Kress took over, yanking her against him, picking up the sensual assault right where David left off. By the time Kress let her go, her senses swam in dizziness and delirium. David grabbed her back, his arms a wonderful vise, holding her flat against him as her world careened.

“I’ve loved you,” he finally murmured, “from the second you first knelt at my feet, D. Probably before that, though I was too terrified to admit it.”

“Oh…David!” She gripped him in return, gulping hard to keep from bursting into sobs.

“So that takes care of the shit about thinking yourself wrong,” Kress declared. Authoritative as the words were, he kicked at the ground in his own version of the uncomfortable-as-hell shuffle. “And for the record, I love the crap out of you too, Dasha Moore.”

That took David’s pancake-flip on her senses and turned it all into a giant waffle. Hot, yummy…yet filled with a bunch of hidden nooks, pooled with pure anxiety again. She looked up to David, wondering how that little bomb sat with him.

Shock popped up her eyebrows. Her Sir grinned at them both like a very satisfied panther. “Well, hell. You two are making this way too easy for me.”

“Making
what
easy?” Kress and she blurted it together.

He let out a deliberate sigh as settled her back to her own feet. Dasha was glad for the distance. She peered at his expression and recognized it. David got it when he really wanted to roll his eyes but had to refrain. He usually saved the expression for people like asshole record-company execs and reporters who asked her stupid questions.

“All of this bullshit has shown me something pretty fucking clear.” He waited, almost like he expected one of them to fill in his “well, duh” blank. “
Security,
” he finally stated. “Think about it. Do you think we’ve seen the last threat to your safety, Dasha?”

Think about it? Like she’d done anything except that lately. “No,” she muttered, not filtering the tremble in her voice.

“Yeah,” David replied. “You hear that? You understand now? We need a dedicated team, not the rent-a-cops we’ve been relying on in each city. Those people don’t know you, don’t give a crap about you.” He swept his gaze, an even deeper gray now, to Kress. “They wouldn’t throw themselves in front of a bullet for you.”

Dasha followed the trajectory of that stare now herself. She watched a crapload of emotions play across Kress’s bold features. Confusion warred with comprehension. Denial tried to stab down a surge of hope. She admitted the same roller coaster of feeling herself. Holy shit. Was she interpreting David’s message right?

Eventually, Kress gave voice to that exact sentiment. “What are you getting at, dude?”

“I’m getting at offering you a job,
dude
.” David spidered his fingers into Dasha’s. “We need someone who has a deep, personal interest in protecting this woman’s body and soul. You think you could be that someone?”

“Uh…does the Mississippi flow south?”

“So what’s the confusion? Unless you
want
to stay in Miami with the feds? Maybe traveling the world in five-star hotels, helping me protect and pleasure this woman every day, isn’t your thing? The whole pop-star package just feels too intense?”

Kress surged forward, a wolfish glint now lighting his eyes. “Who you calling a candy-ass about intense?”

“Why are you worried about any ass except this one?”

David demonstrated what he meant by delivering a fast swat to her backside.

Dasha squealed in surprise but beamed a smile to tell him she’d gladly bend over his knee here and now. Instead of letting that delicious fantasy take root, she gave her bottom lip a sultry bite, glancing at them both from beneath her lashes. “Maybe now’s a good time to think about getting in the car.”

“Good girl.”

As her Doms gave the praise together, a fresh song bubbled in Dasha’s soul. This time, she had a feeling the lyrics would come very easily.

“Hurry up, baby!”

The subbie hurriedly buckled her boots and mumbled an apology to her Sir. He laughed as he wasn’t really that pissed with her, but the opportunity to land a swat on her backside was too good to pass up. She squealed in surprise as he did just that, then giggled just as fast.

It was the kind of early summer night that inspired all the classic songs about Southern California. The air smelled like star jasmine and bougainvillea, with a tiny tang of ocean blended in. One could feel July hovering right around the corner, teasing at the wind—if they held still for a second to notice.

The Dom and sub now rushing their way inside the Mansion Club definitely didn’t care to notice.

They were both dressed in their fetish best—leather, lace, latex, metal—for their first visit to the Southland’s newest, and arguably finest, BDSM club. They’d heard the same story as everyone else: the grand Victorian residence, tucked at the end of an acre-long driveway and equally huge gardens, had a set of “ghost” owners who’d redesigned the place based on an authentic antebellum estate they’d stayed and played in last year.

To look at the place, one could only imagine what erotic goodness had gone down during those playdates. Crystal lighting. Scented candles. Velvet couches. Carpets that begged for bare feet and knees. Flocked walls that boasted alcoves instead of paintings. In these alcoves, nude performance artists beckoned to club guests with feathers or fans or the simple command of their smiles.

But tonight, nobody noticed those performers either.

The crowd made their way toward the largest playroom of the club, their excited murmurs sounding like guests at a celebrity wedding. The festive mood of their murmurs was contradicted by the music that beckoned them from hidden speakers. The ethereal Celtic tune featured a backbeat of moans and lashing sounds in place of bass and drums.

As everyone filtered into the wide living room, they formed into a crescent around the massive mantel, as well as the two wingback chairs in front of it.

The energy in the room escalated as the music changed. A new song came on, mysterious as the first but now possessing a strong drum track, cadenced into double-time sequences, like a heartbeat getting stronger. There were voices in this song too, blending in a sensual harmony of male and female tones.

People angled for better views on the center of the room.

It wasn’t often that one got to witness a double collaring ceremony.

The music swelled as the two Dominants entered the room. It was appropriate that they did so at the stroke of midnight, for they looked like nuances of the night itself. The first was sleek, powerful, and effortless in his strength. His friend was decisive, dangerous, and sweeping with his steps. They both wore nothing except black leathers on their legs, prompting a number of women in the crowd to shift again. One could even been heard whispering, “Lucky bitch.”