Mirror of My Soul, Joey Hill [ereader iphone .txt] 📗

important that you’re saving masses or even saving one person. It’s that you make the effort to save anyone, because when you reach out to save anyone, you’re saying that person is important, worthwhile, they’re needed. That they’re an intrinsic part of all of us.”

His eyes full of open, unconditional love for her, he reached out, apparently put his hands over hers on the bear.

“I want you to have this as a reminder of how you changed my life. There are

reasons to stay here. Not just because we need you, but I think because you need us. I know you’ve been thinking about having another session with me.” His tone changed, became teasing. He actually winked, his demeanor as comfortable as if she’d been fully herself. “Or at least, I hope you have. And Master Tyler, he’s like a puppy around you.

What other woman could beat him up and have him come back for more?

“Now there’s a hint of a smile.” Brendan glanced up, exchanged a look with Tyler.

The man reached forward, uttered a quiet murmur that came to Tyler on the breeze.

“With your permission, lady.”

Brendan stroked her hair from her temple, laid his palm against her cheek. “We love you, Mistress. Very much.”

It got quiet, just the wind from the water and the cry of a heron drifting to them.

Then Tyler heard Marguerite speak.

“Water.”

Brendan leaned toward the iced tea, but he stopped as she spoke again. “Water.”

Brendan glanced behind him, at the banks of the Gulf, then over at Tyler. Her right arm lifted, pointing.

Tyler rose, his concern propelling him to his feet. “Watch her collarbone and the left arm,” he said. The other man inclined his head, put his arms into the hammock and lifted her out. Her arms were folded up against herself, her skirt fluttering over his tanned arm. Turning carefully, he moved toward the water’s edge, Tyler right behind him.

“Down there… On the bank.” Marguerite’s voice again.

When Brendan set her down at the water’s edge, Tyler stood within arm’s reach

behind her, Brendan in front of her, both men wary, protective. Tyler didn’t have to convey his concern; he was sure it was obvious in his eyes. And perhaps because of Brendan’s memories of her, he understood immediately where Sarah had not and

stayed just as close to her.

Marguerite stood, looking out at the movement of the water, the blue sky, a

formation of pelicans soaring above.

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“Your adopted parents were good to you.” She spoke as succinctly as if they’d been having an interactive conversation all along, though Tyler saw her lick her dry lips, swallow.

“Yes, Mistress. I love them.”

“That doesn’t matter. Children will love a monster if we think it’s family. We love against everything that says don’t love.” She stared at the water moving around her ankles. “Did you know I’ve spent years donating my grandparents’ inheritance to different charities, not in spite of, but for love of my family? I wanted to help pay their karmic debt, to hope they find healing and peace together sooner, become who they were…before. Even though I can’t bear to look at a photo of them.”

Her gaze turned to him briefly. “But your adopted parents were good to you. I’m glad. I was worried.”

She nodded, as if settling something with herself, then began to unbutton the front of the dress clumsily with her right hand. She stopped, impatience in her gaze. Glanced toward Brendan. “I want this off.”

The tone, so close to that of the imperious Mistress they knew she could be, startled both men. Brendan’s gaze shifted to Tyler. “With your permission…?”

She looked at Tyler. “Will you trust me?”

He studied her quiet expression, the weak sway of her undernourished body. “To a point,” he said at last. “My heart wants to trust you, but my fear for you…”

Breathing a sigh through his nose, he gave Brendan a curt nod. “She can’t lift the left arm.”

Brendan moved before her, unbuttoned each button carefully. She was completely naked under it except for the clavicle brace on her upper body and she lifted her chin as the dress fluttered back, showing that she was feeling the breeze on her skin, perhaps even enjoying it. Brendan eased her arm out of the sling so he could guide the dress off her entirely, as she’d demanded. He was as slow and patient as Tyler could wish, but Tyler saw the press of Marguerite’s lips, the tremor run through her. It made him wonder if he should have given her more pain medication this morning, since he’d been too shook up from last night to give her more than the bare minimum.

“My deepest apologies, Mistress,” Brendan said. When he began to guide her arm back into the sling, she shook her head and moved forward, taking a step sideways to move around him. When she stumbled unsteadily, both men moved in, their hands

brushing as they made sure she didn’t fall. But she proceeded forward into the water.

Wearing only the necklace and the brace, she took one step deeper, then another.

The men stayed right with her. Marguerite’s eyes remained on the horizon, but she felt them around her, their concern and caring a bulwark on either side. She was absently surprised that Brendan hadn’t backed away when Tyler had moved closer, but both were apparently determined to keep her safe. Her mind rolled the thought around, but was curiously blank, peaceful. The cool touch of the water on her skin soothed as she felt it slide over everything she was. Blood, muscle, sinew, scars, beliefs… Marie 203

Joey W. Hill

Peninski. Marguerite Perruquet. A trusting child, a scarred teenager and now a woman who had lived an interesting life, to say the least. As her mind moved over the memories Brendan had stirred, they brought her forward to more recent images.

Chloe’s laughter, the children playing in her park. Tyler’s amber eyes, his easy touch. Brendan’s beauty. His devotion. The tea combination that