This time they left David's face out of the water and sank together, supporting him between them. It was easier this time for Tess to sink into the unity they shared under the water, her entire body thrumming with awareness of the rocks and the water and the two men in it with her. She could feel the taint in David, scraping a fingernail down her nerves, and this time she tried to focus on it, concentrating on picking it out from the rest of the everything that filled her senses. She was aware of Verd supporting her, helping her. It was like a single dissonant note in a symphony, and as she focused all her awareness on it, separating and isolating it became easier.
She opened her eyes and, to her shock, discovered that the water was full of black tendrils, bleeding out from David's body like ink.
She desperately wanted to ask Verd if this was supposed to be happening, if he had it under control, but she couldn't open her mouth underwater to speak. Verd's face was tight with strain, eyes screwed shut. All she could hear was the throbbing of her heart, loud in her ears. Her lungs ached for air.
But we're doing it. We're doing it. We're getting it out of him.
She threw all her effort into keeping it going, sorting the discordant notes from the symphony of the world. Somehow, she knew, Verd was dealing with the poison, using the hot springs to neutralize it. And David was helping too, fighting it as hard as he could, as he'd been fighting for the last two years—throwing the last of his strength into it, everything he had, to keep heart and lungs, soul and body together long enough for them to help him.
Her need to breathe had grown beyond desperation into stark pain. Yet there was something purifying about that pain, forcing her beyond her own limits, until the entire world consisted only of herself and Verd and David, bound together in an unbreakable circle, and she could feel David getting stronger even as her own strength flagged—
Black spots danced in front of her eyes. And then there were hands on her, pulling her up, and a voice telling her to breathe.
She sucked air into lungs that couldn't get enough of it, sobbing for breath and then reeling with hyperventilation. Arms held her—two pairs of arms, she realized dazedly, as her head began to clear.
"David," she gasped. "David."
He had his arms around her; Verd had his arms around both of them. And David was well. He still looked pale and weak, but she could feel that his body was clean of the taint that had marred it, ever since the scorpion-monster attacked him in Arizona. He was healthy, and he was going to be fine.
She lunged to kiss him, clamping her mouth over his. Verd had his head pressed into the crook of David's shoulder, and Tess's head ended up resting against his as she and David kissed for dear life.
When the kiss broke, David turned his head to kiss Verd. Tess held them both, floating in the water together, and a new thought came to her with the suddenness of a spring dawn: there was no going back to the way things had been.
David's mouth separated from Verd's, and now it was Tess's turn to lean in and kiss him. This time, it wasn't chaste; she parted her lips, and Verd opened his mouth, and they tasted each other, tentative and careful, turning heated as they both pressed naked against David and reached around him and their hands and arms entwined.
And she couldn't help thinking, as desire grew in her, burning for both men: Yes. This is going to work.
Verd brought breakfast down to the cave in the morning. They'd made love in the water, all three of them, an awkward dance of limbs that they were all three still trying to figure out—but heartfelt; it had made Tess think of the way it had been when she first got together with David, the way they were still trying to learn each other's bodies and how they fit together. And then they drowsed on the shore, with a tangle of their discarded clothing for a bed.
Verd brought a bundle of blankets with him, and laid out a breakfast of croissants and fresh pastries beside the water.
"So what are the odds someone's going to wander in here and find us like this?" Tess asked, reaching for a donut. She and David were half-dressed, him in pants, her in her underwear. It was warm enough next to the hot springs that she didn't feel the need for more.
"None at all." Verd looked cheerful. He was more expressive this morning than she'd ever seen him, happy and lit up from inside. "No one can find this particular pool unless I let them. It's only for me, and those I allow here."
Tess gave him a narrow-eyed look. "You wanted me to come down here."
"I thought if you were determined enough to find me, I could give you a small helping hand."
"It was a test?"
"Guys," David murmured, and she looked around at him. It took her breath away to see him like this, his skin healthy and unmarked. He was still thin from his illness, not as bulked out as she was used to seeing him, but that would go away in time. All she really cared about was that he was well.
Her gaze drifted from David's face, down to his hands, one of which had reached out and twined loosely in Verd's. She felt no jealousy. She could see what David saw in Verd; she was starting to feel it herself, the first hints of love twining around her heart. It didn't feel the same as what she had with David, but neither did it feel less. Just different, because Verd was a different man from David.
It might be nice to have someone around who understood the particular realities of being a non-human in a human world. As much as she loved David, there were certain aspects of her life that he could never quite relate to, for all the sympathy he showed her.
And she could see the way that David lit up, having Verd around. Not to mention the quietly fond looks that Verd darted toward David when he seemed to think no one was looking. Detached from the world, my ass, she thought. Just watching them like this was a treat all its own.
Yeah. This was going to work. She didn't know yet what they were going to do about living arrangements, but there was plenty of time to figure that out, and it wasn't like she and David had a well-established home elsewhere. It might be nice to stay in one place for awhile.
She laid a hand on the ground, and felt, once again, the deep connection with the rocks that had stayed with her since their time in the pool. Whatever had happened between the three of them last night, and between her and Verd in particular, this place recognized her as its own now.
Home, she thought, testing out the word, seeing how it felt.
It felt right.
Lauren Esker is a writer and artist who lives in Alaska north of Fairbanks. She worked for a number of years as a graphic designer for a daily newspaper and now writes full time. She also writes under the pen names Layla Lawlor (urban fantasy and science fiction) and Mar Delaney (lesbian romance). To keep up with Lauren's new releases, click here to join Lauren's mailing list or visit: