Instructing the Novice

A Kindred Tales novel

Evangeline Anderson

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* * * * *

PUBLISHED BY:

Evangeline Anderson

Kindred Tales

Copyright © 2018 by Evangeline Anderson

License Notes

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*Cover content is for illustrative purposes only. Any person depicted on the cover is a model*

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*Author's Warning* There is a scene in this book that may make anyone who has suffered past abuse feel uncomfortable or triggered. Please read responsibly. (But I promise everything comes out all right in the end!)

Hugs and Happy Reading

Evangeline

Also by Evangeline Anderson

Brides of the Kindred series (Sci-fi /Action-Adventure /Romance)

Claimed     (Also available in Audio)

Hunted       (Also available in Audio)

Sought       (Also Available in Audio)

Found        (Also Available in Audio )

Revealed    (Also Available in Audio)

Pursued      (Also Available in Audio)

Exiled         (Also Available in Audio)

Shadowed  (Also Available in Audio)

Chained     (Also Available in Audio)

Divided     (Coming soon to Audio)

Devoured

Enhanced

Cursed

Enslaved

Targeted

Forgotten

Switched

Uncharted

Unbound

Surrendered

Vanished

Imprisoned

Kindred Tales series (side stories in the Brides of the Kindred which are outside the main story arc. These can be read as STAND ALONE novels.)

Mastering the Mistress

Bonding with the Beast (Also available in Audio)

Seeing with the Heart

Freeing the Prisoner

Healing the Broken (a Kindred Christmas novel)

Taming the Giant

Bridging the Distance

Loving a Stranger

Finding the Jewel

Bonded by Accident

Releasing the Dragon

Sharing a Mate

Instructing the Novice

Awakened by the Giant (coming Feb 2019)

Born to Darkness series (Paranormal/Action-Adventure/Romance)

Crimson Debt (Also available in Audio)

Scarlet Heat    (Also available in Audio)

Ruby Shadows (Also available in Audio)

Cardinal Sins (Coming Soon)

Dessert (short novella following Scarlet Heat) (Also in Audio)

Alien Mate Index series (Sci-fi /Action-Adventure /Romance)

Abducted (Also available in Print and Audio)

Protected (Also available in Print and Audio)

Descended (Also available in Print and Audio)

Severed (Also available in Print and Audio )

The Cougarville Series

(Paranormal/Action-Adventure/Romance/)

(Older woman/Younger Man)

Buck Naked  (Also available in Audio)

Cougar Bait (Also available in Audio)

Stone Cold Fox (Also available in Audio)

Big Bad Wolf (coming soon)

The Institute series (Daddy-Dom/Age Play Romance)

The Institute: Daddy Issues(Also available in Audio)

The Institute: Mishka's Spanking

The CyBRG Files with Mina Carter

(Sci-fi /Action-Adventure /Romance)

Unit 77: Broken

Unit 78: Bred

The Swann Sisters Chronicles

(Contemporary Fairy/Funny/ Fantasy/Romance)

Wishful Thinking (Also available in Audio)

Be Careful What You Wish For (Also available in Audio)

Compendiums and Box Sets

Brides of the Kindred Volume One

Contains Claimed, Hunted, Sought and Found

Brides of the Kindred Volume Two

Contains Revealed, Pursued, and Exiled

Brides of the Kindred Volume Three

Contains Shadowed, Chained, and Divided

Brides of the Kindred Volume Four

Contains Devoured, Enhanced, and Cursed

Brides of the Kindred Volume Five

Contains Enslaved, Targeted, and Forgotten

Brides of the Kindred Volume Six

Contains Switched, Uncharted, and Unbound

Kindred Tales Volume One

Contains Mastering the Mistress, Bonding with the Beast, Seeing with the Heart

Kindred Tales Volume Two

Contains Freeing the Prisoner, Healing the Broken, Taming the Giant

Kindred Tales Volume Three

Contains Bridging the Distance, Loving a Stranger, Finding the Jewel

Alien Mate Index Volume One

Contains Abducted, Protected, Descended, and Severed

Born to Darkness Box Set

Contains Crimson Debt, Scarlet Heat, and Ruby Shadows

*One Hot Halloween

Contains Red and the Wolf, Gypsy Moon, and Taming the Beast

*Have Yourself a Sexy Little Christmas

Contains Kidnapped for Christmas, Cougar Christmas, and Seasons's Spankings

*Bound and Determined

Contains The Punishment of Nicolett and His Ward

Stand Alone Novels

(Sci-fi OR Paranormal Action-Adventure/Romance)

Purity (Now available in Audio)

Stress Relief

The Last Man on Earth

Anyone U Want

Shadow Dreams

Hunger Moon Rising

Cougar Christmas

Planet X (Also available in Audio)

Deal with the Devil (Also available in Audio)

The Sacrifice (Also available in Audio)

Blood Kiss

Take Two

The Pleasure Palace

The Last Man on Earth

Blind Date with a Vampire

Eyes Like a Wolf (Foster Brother romance)

*Defiled

*Ceremony of Three

*Str8te Boys (M/M romance)

* Forever Broken (M/M romance)

* Red and the Wolf

*Gypsy Moon

*The Last Bite (M/M romance)

*The Assignment (M/M romance)

* denotes books that are only available at Evangeline's Aliens and Alphas Bookstore

Naughty Tales (Short Reads to get you Hot and Bothered)

*Sin Eater

Confessions of a Lingerie Model

When Mr. Black Comes Home

Speeding Ticket

*Putting on a Show

YA Novels

The Academy(Now available in Audio)

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Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four

Sneak Peek at Awakened by the Giant

About the Author

Also by Evangeline Anderson

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Chapter One

Lizabeth Paige was mortified.

“Mortified,” she muttered aloud to herself. “To be caused extreme embarrassment, humiliation, shame, discomfort, and distress.” Never had a definition fit better.

“Now plant your feet, arch your back and rise up into downward dog,” murmured the soothing voice from the little pink cube sitting on the far right corner of her yoga mat. Above it, a holo of a girl who was probably all of twenty was projected, lifting herself gracefully into the required position.

Lizabeth gritted her teeth. She’d been certain she had turned the holo function of her exer-cube to the off position. She’d been doing yoga for years for stress relief because of her career as a highly placed corporate attorney. She didn’t need any skinny-minny twenty-year-old showing her how to get into the old, familiar positions and reminding her that she was plus-sized into the bargain.

Of course, now that she was no longer living on Earth, the only corporation Lizabeth worked for were the Kindred—the large, male, alien warriors who had saved the planet from the threat of the Scourge, another alien race that had been intent on destroying everything in their path. That had been years ago but the Kindred were still here, their Mother Ship in orbit around the moon—mainly because a genetic anomaly ensured that 99% of their children were male. Which meant they were always chronically short of females and needed to call brides from Earth.

The Kindred were good clients, she had found—always fair and never sexist. Lizabeth liked that—she’d dealt with her fair share of sexism. Even after breaking the glass ceiling, she still heard male colleagues—human males anyway—mutter that she was a ball-busting bitch. But her assertiveness and aggressiveness in the court room were qualities the Kindred admired—which meant she ought to be having less stress in this job than in her previous career down on Earth.

“If that’s true then why am I having more stress than I ever have in my life?” Lizabeth muttered to herself. Why was she mortified and trying to do yoga to get her mind off the reason for her mortification instead of studying the Yonnie Six documents she needed to decipher in order to prepare for her next case—Kindred Vs the Proprietors of BleakHall Penitentiary?

“Now lower yourself into plank,” the soothing voice of the exer-cube instructed and the twenty-something skinny-minny holo complied, taking a firm, perfect plank position she could probably hold all day.

Grimly, Lizabeth got into plank and tried not to think about the reason for her mortification—the reason she couldn’t look her assistant, Stands Alone, in the eye anymore.

No, no—don’t think about Lone!

Her long, dark hair fell over one shoulder as she held the pose and she thought instead about getting it cut.

Some people thought a woman ought to have short hair after she turned forty-five, as Lizabeth had on her last birthday. Her ex-husband certainly had.

“Why don’t you cut that?” he’d said, on one of their last meetings to finalize the divorce. “You look ridiculous, you know—trying to pretend you’re still a girl in your twenties.”

“You mean the kind you left me for?” Lizabeth had demanded, sweeping her hair over one shoulder protectively. “The little assistant who’s still in college? Look at yourself, Bernard! You’re fifty-five—she’s young enough to be your daughter.”

“She might be—if you’d ever given me any children.” There was bitterness in her ex’s voice although the fact that Lizabeth had picked career advancement over being a mom had never been a problem until he was looking for a reason to divorce her. But suddenly, when she’d caught him cheating with a much, much younger woman, Bernard has trotted it out, as though she’d denied him something precious he’d been longing for, for years.

In fact, it had been Lizabeth who had wanted children when they first got married. She’d been in her early thirties then and had felt her biological clock ticking. But when Bernard showed no interest, she reluctantly gave up on the idea and threw herself into her work instead. Her ex-husband had been married to his career as an executive in the banking industry and she had no wish to be a single parent. Bernard would have made a lousy father anyway—was probably one now since apparently he and his new little wifey, who was half Lizabeth’s age and supposedly extremely fertile—were trying to get pregnant.

Lizabeth sighed and tried to push the bad memory away. Let Bernard have his silly little assistant—it wasn’t like their marriage hadn’t already been dead by the time he started cheating. They had both been too focused on their careers and had gradually grown apart. And after their divorce, she’d sworn off men for good.

All men but one, anyway, whispered a little voice in her head.

“No—oh, no,” Lizabeth told herself grimly, panting a little as she held her plank. “I’m not going there—not going to think of him.”

But her stupid brain refused to listen. Unbidden, the image of Stands Alone, her assistant, rose before her mind’s eye. Though he was a Twin Kindred, Lone had no twin. His brother had died at birth and he had been raised as a “loner,” which was what the Twin Kindred called a male who had lost his twin. He had pale gray eyes like a Light Twin and mahogany brown hair and bronze skin like a Dark Twin. The combination coupled with his Kindred height and musculature meant he was extremely easy on the eyes.

He was also nearly fifteen years younger than her and completely off limits, Lizabeth reminded herself.

“And anyway, stop thinking of him,” she told herself sternly. “You know what happens when you think of him.”

But she couldn’t help thinking of him this time. Couldn’t help remembering how he had “helped” her when The Great Needing came.

The Great Needing was the name that had been given to the period of time after a terrorist had released Xi-46, an aphrodisiac compound that affected all women of mating age, into the Kindred Mother Ship.

Different women had been afflicted with different symptoms. Some had developed an aching emptiness inside which meant they had to immediately have sex with their mate—or in a great many cases, when they were unmated—with the unmated Kindred warrior closest to them. Some had been afflicted with “the thirst”—an insatiable craving for male seed. Others, like Lizabeth herself, had found that their breasts suddenly swelled up and filled with a sweet, sticky nectar which had to be sucked out—again, by either their mate or the nearest unmated Kindred warrior.

And in Lizabeth’s case, her much-too-young-for-her assistant had been the nearest Kindred.

“No!” she told herself again, panting with fatigue, her arms trembling as she continued to hold the plank. “No, don’t think about it!”

But she couldn’t help herself. The image of Lone kneeling before her and sucking her breasts, drawing the sweet, sticky nectar from her ripe, aching nipples, was suddenly so real in her head it was almost like it was happening all over again.

Lizabeth felt the familiar ache beginning in her breasts and then the sound of a droplet of liquid splattering onto her yoga mat made her look down. Another droplet fell—and then another. Damn it! She was leaking again—the sweet nectar staining the front of her sports bra and dripping down to the mat below.

Swearing to herself, Lizabeth collapsed to the mat, careful to come down on her forearms so she could shield her aching breasts, which were now full to capacity.

“Now, hold the plank just two more breaths and then we’ll go into side plank,” the soothing voice of the exer-cube said. The holo twenty-something rose smoothly on one side, making the maneuver look effortless.

Abandoning her attempt at stress-relief, Lizabeth reached out and slapped the cube off, watching as the holo-fizzled to nothing. Hauling herself off the now-sticky mat, she made her way to her bedroom and pulled the high-suction breast pump she’d gotten after that first, embarrassing incident with Lone out of her dresser drawer.

She debated for a moment, then pulled out her purple bullet vibrator as well. Usually the breast fullness was accompanied by an aching emptiness in her pussy and this time would probably be no exception. The little bullet was made more for clitoral stimulation than deep penetration, which was what she really needed. But it was better than nothing.

Thank goodness I didn’t have the emptiness that first time when Lone helped me, Lizabeth thought as she stripped off her yoga clothes and got situated, naked, on the bed. She would have gone much further with her assistant than she had if that had been the case, she was certain, which would have made things even more awkward between them.

Can’t believe I let him help me, she thought for the hundredth time as she prepared to attach the suction cups of the pump to her nipples. It’s so embarrassing the way I acted. It’s mortifying.

She winced as she started to position one of the cups over her right nipple. The nectar that filled her breasts was much thicker than the breast milk the pump had been made to draw out. As a result, her nipples were red and sore and her breasts never really completely emptied. Before The Great Needing, Lizabeth had been a very respectable C cup. Now she was a permanent double D and her breasts ached nearly all the time.

Still, what else could she do? She had already had one inappropriate sexual encounter with her assistant—she wasn’t about to have another. And even though she’d taken the antidote which had been developed by the three prominent scientists—Dr. Smith, Dr. Bron, and Dr. Sorin—the incidents of breast-swelling and needing continued. Apparently she was one of those unlucky, unmated women it just didn’t work for.

As soon as the cups were attached to her sore nipples and the pump began trying to draw the thick, syrupy nectar out of her breasts, the empty aching began down below.

Lizabeth winced and spread her legs, reaching for her vibrator. She slipped the purple bullet all the way into her pussy and felt her inner muscles clamp down hard on the little instrument. She even turned on the vibration. But though it helped a little, it was a half-measure, just like the breast pump.

This isn’t really working—isn’t doing the job, Lizabeth thought for the umpteenth time. But what else could she do? Go to Lone and ask him to “help” her again?

An image rose in her mind’s eye—she saw herself sitting in the Twin Kindred’s lap, facing him and both of them were completely naked. Lone was sucking her nipples and thrusting into her pussy at the same time—filling her with the thick, hard cock she craved so desperately, giving her exactly what she needed…

“No!” Lizabeth moaned under her breath as the painful, sharp ache in her breasts and pussy increased almost unbearably. “Oh, no…can’t…can’t think like that!”

Her assistant was too young for her and had only helped her out of a sense of duty, she was sure. Lone, like all Kindred, was especially attuned to female distress. It was in their genetic makeup to try and assist any woman in trouble or danger.

And I’m not in danger—not anymore. I can control this, Lizabeth told herself grimly. I can handle this—I can!

Besides, most Twin Kindred who lost their twin didn’t have any sexual feelings at all. Lizabeth knew this because she had researched her assistant’s situation—that of being a twin-less Twin Kindred—when he had first started working with her. They could almost never call a mate without a twin to help them bond to her and so it was like the sexual side of them was permanently asleep. Lone had probably felt that “helping” her by sucking the nectar from her breasts had been a distasteful duty.

Why was he so quick to dive in if he thought it was so distasteful? whispered a little voice in her head. Why was he so eager to suck your nipples?

It was true—or it seemed true, in retrospect, Lizabeth had to acknowledge. It had been Lone who had first unbuttoned her blouse and peeled back her bra to see what was wrong with her when her breasts began to swell and fill with nectar. And when she had moaned with pain and fear, it had been his idea to ease the pressure by sucking the sweet liquid which welled from the tips of her nipples. Lizabeth could still see him in her head, his big, warm hands cupping her swollen breasts, his pale gray eyes intense with emotion.

“Let me suck them, Lizabeth,” he’d murmured, his deep voice hoarse with emotion. “Give me permission to ease your pain.”

In the heat of the moment, Lizabeth had been both frightened and almost unbearably aroused. The Xi-46 had hit her like a freight train—knocking all the common sense out of her it seemed. She’d always found her young assistant extremely attractive, though she would scarcely admit it to herself. She’d even allowed herself to develop a very unwise affection for him. And in that moment of weakness, she had given in to her body’s urgent needs and had given him permission to give her the relief she craved so desperately.

God, she could still remember the sight of his dark head bent over her breasts, her tight, swollen peaks disappearing into his hot, wet, mouth. It hadn’t hurt when he sucked her the way it hurt when she used the inadequate breast pump. There had been nothing but pleasure as he massaged her full breasts and sucked and swallowed, drawing out the thick nectar and sending sparks of pleasure straight to her wet pussy.

Lizabeth’s right hand somehow found its way between her legs and with a low moan, she parted her outer lips and began a swift, delicate caress of her aching clit. She wondered what Lone’s fingers would feel like there…what his cock would feel like inside her. It would be so much better than the stupid purple bullet which wasn’t nearly big enough to fill her properly and ease the empty ache she felt inside…

The memory/fantasy was shattered by a sharp rapping on the metal door at the front of her suite.

“Councilor Paige?” a deep, familiar voice called. “I have some news on the BleakHall case—we need to talk.”

There was no doubt about it—it was Lone, the very man she’d been having illicit fantasies about while she got her nipples sucked and her pussy filled!

“Shit!” Lizabeth muttered to herself desperately. She wondered if she ought to try and pretend she wasn’t at home. But Lone knew her schedule—he would know that she would be studying the Yonnite documents and trying to make sense of their strange judicial practices here in her home office since the Mother Ship’s law library was crowded with students at this time of the evening.

“Councilor Paige? Lizabeth?” he called again, breaking her momentary paralysis. “I know you’re in there. Let me in.”

“Shit!” Lizabeth muttered again. “Hang on,” she called as she turned off the pump and hastily removed the cups. She started to remove the purple bullet also, but her pussy was slippery with her juices and she couldn’t get it out. Meanwhile, Lone was going to know that something was going on if she didn’t get to the door quickly!

Giving up on the bullet, still buzzing quietly inside her, Lizabeth raced to get dressed in the most professional clothes she could find—which wasn’t hard since, aside from her yoga clothes, her wardrobe was almost exclusively made up of business suits to wear to court.

She pulled on a bra and inserted two nursing pads to cover her nipples—a ridiculous necessity now that she was apt to leak nectar at any time. Then she threw on a pale green blouse and a black pencil skirt. She left off her shoes—she never wore them in her suite and Lone knew it—and took a last look in the 3-D viewer to one side of her bed.

A flushed face, wide gray-blue-green eyes, and a crazy cloud of dark hair greeted her glance—she looked guilty as hell, there was no denying it. Lizabeth quickly tried to smooth her wild mane. Did she have the appearance of a woman who had just been masturbating? Could you really consider what she had been doing masturbating though? She’d simply been dealing with the effects of the needing—it wasn’t like she got off on performing a necessity. Right?

Right—except you were fantasizing about your assistant who’s much too young for you while you did it, whispered a snarky voice in her head.

Lizabeth shifted her hips uncomfortably and the purple bullet humming inside her pussy seemed to nudge her accusingly. God, she wished she’d been able to get the damn thing out! At least it was quiet—there was no way Lone would be able to hear it? Right? Right?

She wasn’t quite sure. As a precaution, she flipped on the exer-cube again, setting it to soft yoga music. There, that should cover any unwanted sounds—she hoped.

Taking a deep breath, she put on her most blank, professional courtroom face and pressed the side panel to open the door.

Chapter Two

Standing outside her suite, tall and muscular and much, much too young for her, was Stands Alone. He was wearing a dark green, long-sleeved shirt, tight black trousers and tall black boots—the uniform of the Twin Kindred.

He was so much taller than Lizabeth’s 5’7 that she had to crane her neck to look up at him and his shoulders were fully twice as broad as her own. Yet his size didn’t make him menacing—just a little overwhelming at times. Though Lizabeth had been living and working on the Mother Ship for two years now, she was still getting used to being around the massive, muscular Kindred all the time.

She wondered, as she often had, if he would have been the Light Twin or the Dark Twin of the pair if his brother had lived. He seemed to have characteristics of both—the stubbornness of a Dark Twin and the calm, even temperament of a Light Twin. Personally, she thought he was the best parts of both types.

“Hello, Lone,” she said as coolly as she could. “Is there a problem? You said something about the BleakHall case?”

“Yes, I have some news.” He inclined his head, his pale gray eyes flashing under his dark brows. “May I come in?”

“Oh, uh, certainly.” Clearing her throat, Lizabeth stepped back, giving him room to enter her suite.

“Thank you.” Lone stepped inside and went to take a seat on her couch. Lizabeth shut the door and followed him, wondering what this was all about.

She had scarcely said two words to her assistant since that fateful day—the day the Xi-46 had been released into the Mother Ship and he had helped her with her first needing attack.

Lone, with that admirable delicacy of feeling and attention to her moods she appreciated in him, seemed to have sensed her reluctance to talk about what had happened between them and he had been giving her space for weeks. But now he had come to her private suite and practically demanded entrance. What was going on?

“Well…” Lizabeth settled herself on the edge of the couch cushion as far from him as she could get and folded her hands primly in her lap. She was uncomfortably aware of the purple bullet still buzzing inside her. Sitting down seemed to make it press on a more sensitive area—possibly her G-spot—and though she tried to shift around, it wouldn’t move.

Lone was eyeing her with a slight frown on his face.

“Are you all right?” he asked abruptly. “Your face is flushed. Are you well, Lizabeth?”

“Oh, I…I’m fine.” She cleared her throat and ran a hand over her hair self-consciously. “Just…I was just doing some, uh, yoga before you came in.” Which was true, in a way. She had been doing yoga before she’d been forced to stop and deal with the needing.

He eyed the crumpled mat, stained with droplets of nectar which was still lying out in front of the couch with the exer-cube playing softly.

“I see.”

Lizabeth wished she had rolled up the mat before he came in.

“I…I was trying a…a difficult position,” she said quickly. “It was hard to get into and I was getting out of breath…I…” Then she realized what she was doing—babbling like a guilty defendant trying to cover her crimes.

Stop it, she told herself fiercely. Stop acting like an idiot!

Straightening her shoulders, she took a deep breath and looked at Lone directly.

“What do you need?” she asked in her coolest, most professional tone. “I’m kind of busy at the moment.”

“You’ve been busy for the past two weeks, ever since The Great Needing,” he said in a low voice, alluding for the first time to what had happened between them.

Lizabeth felt her stomach clench. What was he trying to say? Was he accusing her of distancing herself from him—from the partnership that had grown between them in the past two years ever since Lone had first been assigned to her?

“I’m sorry,” she said, feeling guilty all over again. “I’ve been a bit…preoccupied.”

“I understand,” Lone said softly. “And I’ve been trying to…to give you space to be preoccupied. But this case won’t wait forever.”

“I’ve been working on the case,” Lizabeth protested, feeling more guilty than ever. Her attention to detail and her work ethic had been seriously impacted by the constant spells of needing that had plagued her ever since the Xi-46 had been released. Of course, she could hardly help it since there was no cure for the needing attacks other than male attention—attention she was determined not to seek.

“I assumed you were. And I…” he cleared his throat. “I further assumed that you didn’t need my help with anything since you haven’t asked.”

Lizabeth realized this was his round-about way of asking if she’d had any further needing attacks and if she was all right. Some women had been known to get sick if they didn’t satisfy the cravings and urges the Xi-46 had caused in them. Thank goodness she’d been able to get by—barely—with the breast pump and her vibrator—which was still humming unstoppably inside her. She shifted her hips again.

“I’m fine,” she lied shortly. “I only had the…the one attack. And then of course, they came up with the antidote so…I'm perfectly okay.”

“Ah.” Lone nodded. His eyes flickered briefly to her breasts which were definitely much larger than they had been but then flicked away again. “I see. Well…good.”

The awkwardness between them tugged at Lizabeth’s heart. In the two years that they’d been working together, she and Lone had developed a warm relationship which was equal parts friendship and mentorship. The Kindred High Council had first assigned him to her to help her learn Kindred law and assist in a difficult case she had to try before the World Court when she started working for them. But Lone had stayed of his own volition afterwards, claiming that he had much to learn from her as well. He wanted to know about her court room technique and Earth law and he wanted to study her practices as a powerful and successful attorney.

Lizabeth had kept him on, though she privately thought he was long-past ready to practice law on his own. She had mentioned several times that he could go into practice for himself but Lone always demurred and said he wasn’t done learning from her yet.

He liked to do little things for her—fix her coffee just the way she liked it or give her neck rubs when she worked late and her shoulders got tight. He had a warm, self-deprecating sense of humor too—he was always saying or doing something to make her laugh.

In fact, right before the first needing attack had struck her, they had been joking about going to Yonnie Six to learn the convoluted Yonnite laws in person. Lone had dropped to his knees before her and called her “Mistress” as the male bodyslaves called their female owners on the female-dominated world. Lizabeth had been laughing at him but at the same time the way he looked at her had made her feel tight and warm all over…

No, stop thinking like that, she told herself sternly. The point was, she genuinely enjoyed Lone’s company and they had grown close—probably too close—in the time they worked together. But now it seemed like they were back to the beginning—back when she’d first interviewed him to be certain their personalities would mesh well before accepting the ruling of the Council and taking him on as her assistant.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so…so busy lately,” she said haltingly to Lone. “Since the Great Needing, I just…I…” But she couldn’t make herself talk about what had happened between them—couldn’t explain how mortified she was at the way she’d acted or bring herself to apologize for cutting him out of her life for the past two weeks as neatly as a surgeon might excise an unwanted growth.

“I understand,” Lone said and there was something like sorrow in his voice. “But I was hoping that now that the, uh, antidote has been distributed to everyone we might…might get back to business as usual.”

“Oh, of course. Business as usual.” Lizabeth felt a strange combination of relief and sadness. He just wanted to work—that was all. Well, good—that was what she wanted too, she told herself firmly.

“Having said that…” Lone cleared his throat and lifted his chin. “I think I might have found a solution to our problem.”

“Problem?” Lizabeth looked at him blankly. “What problem?”

“The difficulty of learning the Yonnite Law sufficiently to take them on in their own court system,” Lone said patiently. “You were complaining about it before…uh, the last time we worked together,” he ended in a low voice.

Right before that damn sickly-sweet Xi-46 started blowing through the vents and my breasts ballooned up with nectar for the first time is what he means, Lizabeth thought.

“I remember,” she said dryly. “So what have you found? Some Kindred educational technology I can jack directly into the base of my skull and learn their convoluted laws instantly?”

Lone smiled slightly, an expression that lit up his face.

“I wish it were that simple. No, unfortunately. But I did find a place where you can study and learn the law directly from Yonnite professionals just as you said you wished you could.”

Lizabeth bit her lip. “You mean go to Yonnie Six? I don’t know if that would be a good idea, Lone.”

She couldn’t help thinking again of the way he’d been joking with her right before the first needing attack struck. He’d gone down on his knees and begged to serve her…begged her to use him however she saw fit and though he’d only been joking his words had still affected her deeply.

Lizabeth wasn’t exactly a domme in the bedroom but neither was she submissive. She was old enough to know exactly what she liked and she didn’t mind taking control. Also, she was wise enough to know that she liked her too-young assistant much more than was good for either of them. It was better not to take that particular dynamic to a place like Yonnie Six where it would only be exacerbated.

But Lone was shaking his head.

“Not Yonnie Six—Yonnie Two,” he said. “Another planet in the Yonnite system. It’s on the edge of their solar system’s habitable zone but some of the Yonnites have chosen to settle there in a kind of commune dedicated to learning and knowledge. There are several prominent legal councilors there you might learn from.”

“But…wouldn’t the same principals apply?” Lizabeth asked uneasily. “Wouldn’t I need a…a bodyslave to go there?”

“Actually, the women who live and work in the Tower of the Higher Mind—which is what they call it—take a significantly different view of female/male relations,” Lone said. He leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees and looked at her intently. “They don’t believe in owning males as slaves. In fact, they don’t have bodyslaves there at all.”

“Oh.” Lizabeth felt relieved. She didn’t like the idea of putting Lone in a pain collar and a leash and pretending to be cruel to him. The very thought was distressing to her.

In fact, what she really wanted to do was reach out and ruffle his short, dark hair or stroke his scratchy cheek as she used to do before all the awkwardness had come between them. But touching him was off-limits now—especially considering that she’d been touching herself just before he came in and she still had the stupid purple bullet humming in her pussy.

It was a damn good thing it was inside her instead of pressing against her clit, she thought grimly. If it had been buzzing her button, there was no way she could have kept her composure.

“Well,” she said, trying to pull her mind back to the matter at hand. “Thank you for finding this place for me, Lone—I really appreciate it. If they don’t have bodyslaves, I guess I can just take a trip by myself and learn everything there is to know in time for the court date.”

“You want to go by yourself?” There was hurt in his pale grey eyes which often looked silver when the light hit them just right.

“Well, I thought you said I didn’t need a bodyslave,” Lizabeth protested. “You said they didn’t have male slaves at all—and knowing the Yonnite ideas about males, I thought that meant there were no males anywhere.”

“There are, though,” he said in a low voice. “Just because there are no male slaves doesn’t mean there are no males on the entire planet. They have Novices there—male acolytes who learn from their female mentors and who also perform the menial tasks and labor it takes to keep the Tower running. After a number of years, a Novice is considered a master in whatever field of study he chooses to take and he leaves the Tower and strikes out on his own.”

“Oh? Novices? That’s an interesting idea,” Lizabeth remarked.

“It’s not so different from the relationship we have now…or had.” Was there a faint trace of bitterness in Lone’s deep voice?

“I…see.” Lizabeth didn’t know what to say. “So…you want to come?”

“You need a Novice in order to enter the Tower,” he pointed out. “And besides, you’ll need protection at the landing area. The Tower is in the mountains and the only available place to land is in hostile territory.”

“Protection? From what?” Lizabeth frowned. She was well aware that it was more dangerous to travel as a woman alone in certain parts of the world—and certain parts of the galaxy for that matter—but she had managed quite well for a number of years before she’d met Lone. She’d even gone to Egypt and Yemen—places the US State Department warned against women traveling by themselves.

Lone’s face darkened. “Unlike Yonnie Six, not all of Yonnie Two is female-dominated. In fact, there is a large portion of the planet—specifically the area around where we’ll need to land—that is home to another culture.”

“A hostile one, I take it?” Lizabeth raised an eyebrow at him.

Lone nodded. “To say the least. The Friezens live on the plains of Yonnie Two and their beliefs are almost diametrically opposed to those who live in the Tower of the Higher Mind.”

“Meaning they’re male-dominated?” Lizabeth asked, frowning.

“In the extreme.” Lone’s face got even darker, his pale eyes stormy. “Rape and assault are common and rarely punished. Female trafficking is one of the main sources of economic growth and women in general have no rights.”

“That sounds bad,” Lizabeth agreed. “But I’m probably too old for them to take much notice of me,” she added, lightly. “It’s probably pretty young twenty-somethings they’re looking to buy and sell.”

“Don’t say that, Lizabeth.” Lone’s eyes were troubled. “You’re beautiful—you know you are. You’d definitely be a target.”

Lizabeth bit her lip—her assistant had never said such a thing to her before.

“Well…thank you,” she said hesitantly. “But I don’t want you to feel like you have to protect me. I’ve traveled in countries where they’re hostile to women before. The trick is keeping a low profile and keeping covered up—usually it’s when you start showing bare shoulders and legs and making direct eye contact with strange men that things get dicey.”

“Traveling through Friezen territory isn’t the same as going to a country on Earth that’s hostile to women,” Lone objected. “The Friezens…you would be extra attractive to them. Because of your dark hair and light eyes and for…other reasons.”

Lizabeth wanted to ask what other “reasons” he thought the alien misogynists would be attracted to her but Lone was looking so upset she decided to drop it.

“Lone—” she began but he shook his head.

“They even…” He swallowed, looking sick. “Even practice female genital mutilation. It would not be safe for you to be anywhere near the Friezens alone.”

“Ugh!” Lizabeth shivered. “All right—you’ve convinced me. We’ll go together. You can be my guard in the hostile territory and my, uh, what did you say they were called again?”

“The males who come to learn from the female teachers are called ‘Novices’,” Lone supplied.

“And my Novice at the Tower,” Lizabeth finished. “We can learn Yonnite law together. Will that suit you?”

“Very much…Wise One.” There was a faint sparkle in Lone’s gray eyes and he gave her a little half-smile.

“Wise one?” Lizabeth put a hand on her hip. “Seriously? Is that what you have to call me? Because I don’t mind telling you, it makes me feel even older than I already am.”

“You’re not old,” Lone said quietly. “And it’s either ‘Wise One’ or ‘Mistress.’ Which do you prefer?”

“You can’t just call me Councilor Paige? Or Lizabeth?” she inquired.

Lone shook his head.

“Titles and appearances are very important at The Tower of the Higher Mind. As your Novice, I have to show you proper respect.”

She frowned. “And what exactly does that entail?”

“I’ve only done a little research but for one thing, I have to sit at your feet when I learn from you.” Lone demonstrated by sliding off the couch and kneeling at her feet, much to Lizabeth’s discomfort.

Just being near the big Kindred and smelling his warm, spicy scent made her breasts swell and ache with the pressure of the nectar they were producing. She could feel the nursing pads she’d shoved into her bra getting soaked and hoped she wouldn’t leak through her blouse and give away the fact that she’d been lying about not having any more needing attacks. Plus, she still had that damn vibrator inside her too—what if Lone heard it over the soft yoga music now that he was closer to her?

“Lone…” she began, pressing her thighs together and folding her hands nervously in her lap. “I don’t think we should…should do this.”

“Do what, Mistress?” he murmured, looking up at her—though he didn’t have to look far because of his great height.

“Lone, don’t play,” Lizabeth said, wishing her voice didn’t sound so high and uncertain. What was wrong with her?

“I’m not playing…I’m practicing.” His gray eyes were earnest. “I have to show you proper respect. In fact, if what I read was correct, I have to kiss your hands every time we meet.”

He took her hands, though Lizabeth tried to protest and draw them back, and pressed her right palm to his lips.

God! Oh God, oh God, oh God!

Lizabeth thought she would die from mortification. She had been touching herself with that hand before he had come to her door. Would he be able to scent her desire on her fingers? This was so embarrassing!

If Lone did catch the scent of her juices, he didn’t say anything about it. But Lizabeth saw his nostrils flare and then his eyes were suddenly half-lidded as he placed another gentle kiss to her palm and fingers, playing special attention to her index and middle fingers, which she had been using to stroke herself.

“Mistress,” he murmured. “Hear me now and may the iron pierce my heart if I lie—I mean you no harm and wish only to serve you in every way.”

“That’s beautiful,” Lizabeth said uncertainly. “But I really don’t think you should…should say that to me, Lone.”

“It’s part of the Novice’s oath to his Mistress,” he told her, at last releasing her hands, which she drew back and bunched into her lap in a tight knot. “I’m to say it to you when we enter the Tower.”

“You are?” Lizabeth asked breathlessly. She lifted an eyebrow at him, trying to regain some composure. “And…it doesn’t bother you? Acting so subservient?”

“There’s a difference between subservience and adoration,” he said softly. “Those at the Tower of the Higher Mind don’t believe that a Wise One should take a Novice unless the two of them honestly care for each other and he earnestly yearns to serve and protect her.”

It was on the tip of Lizabeth’s tongue to ask if her assistant really felt all that for her…but she kept her lips resolutely closed. Lone was just playing the part, she told herself—“practicing” as he had put it. She would be the worst kind of fool if she acted like any of this was real.

You’ve been down this road before, whispered a warning little voice in her head. You know he’s too young for you. Don’t go there again!

“So,” she said at last, when she was certain she could trust her voice not to tremble or flutter. “When do we leave? You’ve probably already packed the shuttle and gotten permission from Commander Sylvan and the High Council—right?”

He gave her an easy grin.

“You know me too well. We can leave by tomorrow morning if you’re sure you want to go?”

He made it a question and Lizabeth frowned.

“Why would I not want to go? The dangerous landing area aside, it sounds like the perfect opportunity to learn Yonnite law from a true professional.”

Lone nodded. “Yes, but I thought you might want to research it yourself. There are rumors of…hidden practices at the Tower. Certain unspoken rules which must be obeyed. If we dig a little deeper, we might be able to find out exactly what is expected of us once we get there.”

“Well…” Lizabeth began.

Just then the soft music coming from the exer-cube cut off abruptly. Lizabeth winced. Damn it—she must have turned it on the timed setting. The sudden silence in the room seemed deafening.

Lone, who was still sitting down by her feet, frowned and cocked his head.

“Do you hear a…buzzing sound?” he asked, wrinkling his brow.

“No, I don’t hear anything.” Lizabeth shifted away from him again, which cause the bullet to move inside her pussy. She was beginning to feel like she might go insane if she didn’t get the damn thing out soon!

“No, I’m sure I hear something,” Lone insisted.

“Probably nothing. So Yonnie Two sounds not unlike Yonnie Six,” Lizabeth said quickly, talking loudly to cover any possible noise. “Female-dominated, matriarchal society. Only instead of Mistresses and slaves, there are teachers and students.” She shrugged. “I can do that and if you don’t mind playing my student or Novice, I’m sure you can too.”

“It’s not a problem for me,” Lone said. “I’ve been in contact with the Mistress Superior, Lady Verlandah. She’ll send out a welcome party to lead us up to the Tower as soon as we call and tell her we’re on the way.”

“Good.” Lizabeth nodded decisively. “Then let’s do it.” Getting off the couch quickly, she stood and put some distance between herself and her assistant. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d better pack.” She paused. “Uh, what kind of clothes should I bring?”

“None,” Lone said seriously, rising as well. “They don’t allow new initiates and Novices to bring anything from the outside world that might distract them from their quest for knowledge.”

“Well what—are we supposed to go naked? Because that would be kind of a deal-breaker for me.” Lizabeth put a hand on her hip.

Lone’s pale gray eyes flickered over her body, taking in her too-full breasts and hips before coming back to meet her eyes.

“No, they’ll provide robes for both of us. That’s covered by the price of admission.”

“The price of admission, hmm?” Lizabeth raised an eyebrow. “And how much is that?”

“It’s quite substantial,” Lone admitted. “But don’t worry—the Kindred High Council is footing the bill. They want you to be well-versed in Yonnite law when our case finally gets into their courts.”

“Well, then we’d better not waste their money,” Lizabeth said briskly. “Better get packed. I mean—I have to at least bring a few things for taking notes.” As well as her breast pump and vibrator, though currently it was about to drive her crazy.

Lone looked doubtful. “I don’t know what will be allowed. As I said, there are some hidden customs and conventions. The Tower of the Higher Mind is its own little subculture within a culture.”

“I’m sure it will be fine.” Lizabeth was starting to feel desperate. Her breasts were extremely full and achy again and though the vibrator wasn’t pressed against her clit, her pussy still felt swollen and hot. She needed to come.

Lone raised an eyebrow at her.

“Am I to take it I’m dismissed then…Mistress?”

“Well, I…I have a lot to do if we’re leaving tomorrow,” Lizabeth said. “Why? Did you need something else?”

“I just thought maybe we could have Last Meal together, like we used to,” Lone said simply. “I’ve missed your company.”

Lizabeth felt like she was melting from the inside out. The truth was, she’d missed Lone too. Not sharing her day with him the past two weeks had been a kind of torture—an unhappy experiment in loneliness. But if she didn’t get this damn vibrator out of herself and get some sexual relief soon, she felt like she was going to explode.

“I’m really sorry, Lone,” she said as gently as she could. “I…I’ve missed you too. But if we’re really leaving tomorrow morning, I have a lot to do. I probably won’t eat dinner at all.”

“I see.” He looked down for a moment, studying the toes of his high black boots. “Lizabeth,” he said at last. “When are you going to forgive me?”

“Forgive you? Forgive you for what?” But even as the words left her mouth, she knew what he was talking about.

Lone looked at her, his eyes unhappy.

“You know what I mean. I shouldn’t have done…what I did. The Goddess knows how sorry I am. I thought…I told myself I was helping you. But now—”

“Lone, it’s all right.” She went to him swiftly and put a hand on his arm. “Honestly, there’s nothing to forgive. I’m not mad at you. You…you helped me. That’s all.”

“Then why are you shutting me out?” he demanded in a low voice. “Why are you pushing me away?”

“I’m not,” Lizabeth protested, knowing it was a lie. But what could she say? That being too near him—that even thinking of him—made her breasts start making nectar like she was a damn juice factory? That inappropriate fantasies of him constantly crowded her head?

Being near him now was difficult in a way it hadn’t been before. Before she’d been able to tell herself she didn’t really desire him because it was completely inappropriate. Now her body refused to believe the lie her mind was telling—it told its own truth and there was no way for her to ignore it.

“You are,” Lone said quietly. He sighed. “I must go. It’s time to feed Beaker anyway.”

Beaker was his pet jikem—a Twin Moons creature that looked a little like a cross between a raccoon and a cat. Lizabeth knew from her research that loners—Twin Kindred who had lost their brother—were often given a jikem to act as a kind of substitute for their lost sibling because they were very intelligent and empathetic. She had met Beaker when she visited Lone’s suite from time to time and she liked the furry little animal, who was fond of jumping on her shoulder to sniff her hair and hum softly in her ear.

“Oh,” she said. “Can you bring him with you to Yonnie Two?”

“I’m afraid not.” Lone shook his head. “But I’ve already arranged with the sons of my friends, Helps Much and Speaks True, to come and feed him and play with him every day while we’re gone. He’ll be happy enough—he loves young ones.” He headed for the door. “I’ll go now. Meet me at the Docking Bay at o-eight hundred hours.”

“All right. Um…goodnight,” Lizabeth said, rather lamely. She felt bad about the way they were parting. She ought to invite Lone to stay for dinner, as she often had before The Great Needing had occurred. Not that she was a fabulous chef but Lone was and he was just as happy to cook in her suite as his own.

But the heaviness and aching in her breasts and the swollen need between her thighs stopped her. She couldn’t wait through a leisurely dinner to take care of the needing that was pressing down on her like a heavy boulder, so hard she could barely breathe.

“Good night,” Lone said as the door slid open.

“See you in the morning.” Lizabeth watched guiltily as the silver door panel slid closed with a muted whoosh.

Then she ran to the bedroom as fast as she could to take care of business. God, she thought uneasily as she hooked her aching, leaking nipples up to the breast pump’s suction cups again. Hope I have privacy at that Tower place so I can take care of myself when I need to.

But hadn’t Lone said the entrance fee was substantial? Surely that would include a private room. Then she slid her fingers into her aching pussy and every other thought left her mind as she reached mindlessly for release. Her orgasm, when it came, was as sharp as a shipwreck. But though her back arched and she groaned aloud with the painful pleasure, Lizabeth still ached with need.

It wasn’t enough—it was never enough—and she didn’t know how much longer she could stand to live like this.

Chapter Three

What an idiot you are, telling her you miss her, Lone told himself savagely as he strode back to his own suite. All you succeeded in doing was making her even more uncomfortable than she already is around you!

He remembered Lizabeth’s body language—the way she’d been sitting with her thighs pressed together and her slim fingers knotted tensely in her lap. Everything about her had screamed don’t touch and yet, Lone hadn’t been able to keep himself from touching her.

Kneeling at her feet…kissing her hands…reciting the Novice’s oath…how pathetic it must have seemed to her. But the truth was, he hadn’t been able to help himself. After two weeks of barely seeing her, Lone was hungry for her—for her gentle touch, the soft, sweet alto of her voice, the warm scent of her skin…

He wondered for the hundredth time if Lizabeth had any idea how beautiful—how absolutely, heart-stoppingly gorgeous—she was. He could watch her for hours—the way her changeable eyes shifted from gray-blue to silvery-green, depending on what she was wearing…the soft sweep of her long, dark, wavy hair over her shoulders…the lilting music of her laugh…

Listen to yourself, he told himself angrily. You sound pathetic! What happened to the male who never had a sexual thought or feeling in his life? What happened to the male who wanted to devote his whole existence to learning the letter of the law?

But Lone knew the answer to that—Lizabeth Paige had happened.

He could still remember the first day she had walked into his life. She’d been preparing for a case in the World Court. A human male had brought suit against the Kindred after he had attacked a woman who was bonded to a Beast Kindred warrior. The Beast Kindred had ripped off the man’s genitals and forced him to eat them—which was a just punishment for sexual assault, in Lone’s point of view. Somehow the human male had survived and had sued the Kindred, even though the warrior had only been protecting his mate.

It was a high-profile case which could determine the fate of the Kindred as they related to the people of Earth. The High Council had decided they needed the best, most knowledgeable Councilor possible defending them against the charges that had been brought and that was Lizabeth Paige. Lizabeth was famous for her courtroom style and the fact that she almost never lost a case, even in the notoriously difficult World Court.

After much deliberation, the Council had chosen Lone to both assist her and help her learn the nuances of Kindred law as it related to Earth law. Lone had been one of many applicants—there were no shortage of warriors who wanted to work with the esteemed Councilor Paige. He’d felt honored to be picked from so many but even after the High Council approved him, he’d still had to have an interview with Lizabeth, to make certain their personalities meshed.

Lone remembered feeling irritated at the extra step, which had been stipulated by Lizabeth herself. What did it matter how they felt about each other? They were going to be working together, not getting mated—and not like he could mate anyone without a twin brother to help him do it.

He had waited in the interview room, tapping his fingers impatiently on the small wooden desk. This was just another job to him—just a stepping stone on his way to becoming a legal Councilor in his own right. He expected it to take three solar months—maybe four tops—and then he could move on, move up the ladder again. All he cared about was the law and learning as much of it as he could.

His studies consumed his life and why not? With no mate or children to care for and no prospect of ever having either, he might as well devote himself wholly to his chosen profession. Also, where was the famous Councilor Paige? Why was she late? What was taking her so long? Where—

And then Lizabeth Paige had stepped into the room, into his life…and into his heart.

Lone still remembered that heart-stopping moment when she’d opened the door and stepped through, her long, dark hair a waving mass around her exquisite face…her changeable gray-green-blue eyes both beautiful and direct…her full breasts and curving hips…

She was a goddess and in that moment, all he wanted to do was worship at her feet.

“Hello, I’m sorry I’m late,” she said in her sweet, soft alto. “You must be Stands Alone, my new assistant.”

Lone had stood up when she stepped in the room and now, as she reached for his hand, he realized he was staring at her.

“Um, yes,” he managed to say. “But you can just call me Lone. I—” And then their hands had touched and something very strange had happened to Lone.

For the first time in his life, he felt himself getting hard because of a woman.

As the blood rushed to his shaft, making it painfully erect, he at first didn’t understand what was happening. It wasn’t like he hadn’t had erections before—he was a normal, healthy young male—he woke up with a morning hard-on almost every day. But he’d never had much in the way of sexual thoughts or feelings. Sex was an area that was denied to him, because as a loner, he had no twin to help him call and bond a mate.

In the past, this hadn’t bothered him much because he didn’t let it. He didn’t allow himself to mourn for what he didn’t have—what he could never have. Instead, he threw himself into his work and walled off the part of himself that might have found a female interesting or attractive or sexy.

Lizabeth Paige tore down that wall with a single touch of her soft little hand.

He had been glad that they were seated quickly before she could see the bulge in his trousers. The interview that followed was still a blur since he couldn’t take his eyes off her beauty. But he must have said something right, Lone reflected, because she had taken him on as her assistant and he had been with her ever since.

And wanting her ever since.

But it wasn’t just her beautiful, full-figured body he craved—he found he was also captivated by her intelligence and wit. She had the quickest mind of anyone he’d ever met and she was a genius in the courtroom. Lone couldn’t help but admire her wisdom and experience and her sense of humor was wry and funny.

In short, he was completely, hopelessly, helplessly in love with her but there was nothing he could do about it. He had no twin to help him mate her and he was certain Lizabeth wasn’t interested in him in a sexual way. She saw him as a friend and assistant and nothing else.

When The Great Needing had occurred and the Xi-46 compound had been released into the Mother Ship, it had seemed like one of his fantasies come true. Not that he had ever fantasized about Lizabeth being in pain or fear—he had only wanted to help and protect her. But the fact that the only way to help her had been to palm her full breasts and suck her ripe nipples had been incredible…mind blowing.

He had wanted to taste her from the moment he met her and the memory of her moans of desire and the way she had clung to him and begged him to suck harder still haunted his dreams.

But he was paying for his fantasy now, Lone reflected as he let himself into his single suite. Paying in the worst way possible. Lizabeth had cut him almost completely out of her life. She didn’t even want to share Last Meal with him, which had been something they had done almost every night before the needing.

He wondered if their time together at the Tower of the Higher Mind would bring them together again…or push them further apart. There were apparently some hidden customs and expectations which were barely hinted at in the literature he had read—hinted at but not explained. This troubled Lone—what were they trying to hide? Was it just a closed community protecting itself…or was there more to the Tower of the Higher Mind than was presented in their literature?

He knew he ought to try and find out but so far all his searches had turned up nothing but dead ends.

“Maybe I’m being paranoid,” he told Beaker when the little jikem came running up to greet him. “Maybe the Tower is just what it says it is—a place where female professionals can come to gain greater knowledge and understanding of their chosen field.”

Beaker hooted softly which was his way of speaking. Knowing what his pet wanted, Lone reached down and extended an arm so Beaker could hop aboard. The little jikem had the sleek body of a cat and the pointed face and hands of a raccoon—he could have climbed right up Lone’s trousers with no problem. But he was too well behaved for that.

“Hi, Beaker,” Lone murmured, stroking the soft little head. “How are you, boy?”

Beaker hummed as he rubbed his furry head against Lone’s cheek—a sound that had comforted Lone often in the past. Beaker had been given to him when he was only ten cycles old and Beaker was one. Since Lone was thirty now and jikems could live to a ripe old age of forty cycles, his little friend was only middle aged, which meant he was still curious and frisky. Though right now he wasn’t frisky at all—he had apparently sensed Lone’s dejection and just wanted to cheer him up.

“She won’t forgive me, Beaker,” he told his pet. “I came right out and asked her—I couldn’t help it, fool that I am.”

He sighed and Beaker crooned mournfully and licked his cheek with a dry little leaf of a tongue.

“Well—she won’t be able to shut me out so easily once we’re off planet. I hope, anyway,” he told his pet. “Maybe I can win back her trust somehow.”

But it wasn’t Lizabeth’s trust he wanted—it was her love.

And how was he ever going to get that when she saw him as no more than a friend and a loner with no brother to help him bond?

Lone didn’t know, he only knew that his heart yearned for her and he couldn’t stop the ache when he thought of that look in her eyes—the one that said she was sorry, but she couldn’t feel for him the way he felt for her.

Chapter Four

Lizabeth had never folded space before. She’d heard all about it but actually watching as Lone piloted their long-range shuttle into the red gash in the blackness that the Mother Ship had created was somewhat unnerving.

“Um…are you sure we’re all right?” she asked, shifting in the passenger seat as the crimson slash got closer and closer to the shuttle’s viewscreen. “I mean, you’re sure this is safe?”

“Statistically speaking, folding space is safer than flying on one of your Earth airplanes.” Lone kept his eyes forward, concentrating on piloting as he spoke. “That said, there are accidents sometimes.”

“Accidents?” Lizabeth folded her arms over her swollen breasts protectively and winced. “Ouch,” she muttered, pulling them back again.

Lone must have seen her expression from the corner of his eye because he frowned.

“Are you well, Lizabeth?”

“I’m fine,” she lied. “I just…slept wrong and my back is stiff.”

“Unless your back is affecting your front, that doesn’t seem to be the problem.” He looked pointedly at her breasts. “Are you certain you’re well?”

For a moment Lizabeth almost told him the truth. Though she had used the pump for hours last night, it still hadn’t been able to draw all of the nectar out. Her nipples were so red and sore she could barely stand to wear a bra and the nursing pads she’d put in it to keep herself from leaking felt rough and abrasive against the tender flesh.

But if she told Lone all that, she’d have to admit that she had been lying to him about not having another needing attack. And then he might feel obligated to help her again which would be awkward as hell. No, she couldn’t go there—she just couldn’t.

“I’ll be fine,” she said firmly. “Anyway, what kind of accidents are we talking about?” she asked, trying to get back to the matter at hand.

“Ships have been lost once or twice in the past,” Lone admitted. “But only in conjunction with some other extraneous circumstances—like meteor showers or solar flares.” He looked at her more fully. “Seriously, it almost never happens. The only people at risk when folding space are pregnant females.”

“Pregnant?” She gave a short, forced laugh. “Well, I guess I’m safe then since there’s no way I could be pregnant. I can’t even remember the last time I…”

She trailed off and cleared her throat, feeling embarrassed about what she’d almost admitted—that she hadn’t had sex with anyone since her divorce. And since she and Bernard had been in a sexless marriage for the last year before they called it quits, that added up to a pretty long dry spell.

“Um, so how long will it take us to reach Yonnie Two?” she asked, trying to sound normal.

“This part of the journey will be very short,” Lone told her. “We’ll leave the space around the Mother Ship and appear in deep orbit around Yonnie Two almost instantaneously. It’s after we’re landed that I’m worried about.”

“Will it really be that dangerous?” Lizabeth bit her lip.

“Hopefully not. It’s only a short distance from the landing zone in the Friezen area to the suspended train that will take us through the mountains to the Tower. But don’t worry—if we run into trouble, I’m armed.” Lone patted the sleek, silver blaster which rode on his lean hip confidently.

“I hope you don’t have to use that thing.” Lizabeth had never liked firearms and she looked askance at the deadly little weapon.

“I will if I have to.” Lone looked at her directly. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Lizabeth. I’ll protect you with my life,” he said quietly.

For a moment her mouth was almost too dry to speak.

“Thank you,” she managed at last. “But last time I looked that isn’t in your job description. You’re my assistant, not my bodyguard.”

“I am the one who told you about the Tower of the Higher Mind and brought you here, which means you’re under my protection,” Lone said. “I take that very seriously.”

In a human male she might have thought his attitude was sexist but Lizabeth had been working with the Kindred long enough to understand their feelings of extreme protectiveness towards women. Lone was reassuring her that he would do anything he had to in order to keep her safe. She appreciated that.

“Thank you, Lone,” she said, matching his serious tone. “I’m glad you’re with me. You’re right—it would have been stupid to come alone.”

“I would never call you that,” he protested. “Although sometimes you are a little too—what’s the Earth word? Oh—a little too ballsy for your own good.”

Lizabeth laughed. “Thanks. That’s the nicest way anyone’s ever called me a ball-busting bitch before.”

“You’re not that either,” Lone said, frowning. “What would give you that view of yourself?”

“Some of the human males I worked with, mostly,” Lizabeth said dryly. “Most of them don’t care for assertive women.”

Lone shook his head.

“Sometimes I feel like I could live near Earth and work with humans a thousand years and never truly understand your people. Why are human males so threatened by strong females?”

Lizabeth laughed. “If I knew that, I’d quit being a lawyer and become the richest psychologist in the world.” She shook her head. They just are. And I’ll tell you something else—not many human males that I know would be content to be my assistant for as long as you have. Most of them would have wanted to move on to bigger and better things by now—and they wouldn’t be interested in going on any kind of a trip where they had to act like my servant or student or whatever it is you’re supposed to be either.”

“I’ll be your Novice, Mistress,” Lone rumbled, smiling a little. “And why should it be a problem to pose as a student? One of the reasons I applied to be your assistant in the first place was to learn from you.”

“Thank you Lone, that’s sweet.” Lizabeth smiled at him. “And I want you to know I appreciate your professionalism and your attitude. It’s always a pleasure to work with you.”

She realized as she was speaking how cold and distant the words sounded. It was like she was giving him a yearly performance review or something. What was wrong with her? Why was she so stiff and formal?

Because I can’t be anything else, she told herself grimly. I have to keep him at an arm’s length or we’ll get too close again…way too close. Being near the big Kindred—being too close to him anyway—threatened to bring the needing on. And she didn’t want him to find out she was in need and feel like he had to offer to help her.

What must that have been like for him, having to suck her nipples and swallow the strange, sweet nectar which had filled her breasts so suddenly? He hadn’t seemed upset or disgusted at the time but then, Lone was like that—he was an easy-going guy who almost never complained. Lizabeth was certain he would never tell her that he minded helping her out in such a delicate, intimate situation even if he was cringing inside. And just thinking about that made her cringe inside herself.

No, it was better to keep her distance—keep things professional between them. She would act as she had when they first started working together and they were being careful around each other—feeling each other out. Part of her knew it would hurt to go back to the beginning like that but there was nothing else she could reasonably do.

“Folding space now,” Lone said, pulling her out of her reverie. And then the ship entered the gaping crimson wound in the blackness and was swallowed up.

For just an instant Lizabeth felt like she was being pulled in every direction at once. Then, to her relief, the strange taffy-like sensation ended and they were through to the other side.

A new planet appeared on the shuttle’s viewscreen—a gray and white ball spinning in space that was the color of dirty snow.

“That’s it?” she asked a little breathlessly. “That’s Yonnie Two?”

“That’s our destination,” Lone said. “I’ll put in a call to the Tower now and let them know we’re in orbit so they can send an escort.”

He tapped in a series of numbers and codes into the control panel and after a moment, a male face appeared on the viewscreen.

“Yes?” The male was heavily bearded and scowling fiercely. “Who are you and what do you want?”

“I am Stands Alone, a Kindred warrior and Novice to Councilor Lizabeth Paige who is coming to study with your Mistress of Law,” Lone answered. “We were told by the Mistress Superior, Lady Verlandah, to call when we were in orbit around Yonnie Two so that she could send an escort to meet us by the train.”

The scowling face relaxed somewhat.

“Oh, it’s you. Yes, my Lady told me you were coming. I am Karx, Novice to Wise one Verlandah and also the captain of her guard.”

Lone raised his eyebrows.

“You have need of guards there? I thought the Tower was high in the Yonnite mountains, secure from any possible attack by hostiles.”

Karx scowled again.

“You can never be too careful. And I’m sure you’ll agree, safeguarding your lady’s well-being is something that can’t be left to chance.”

“That’s true,” Lone agreed seriously.

“Speaking of that—be damn careful when you land. The Friezens are having their summer festival and looking for the perfect female to serve as the Snow Queen.” His dark eyes flickered from Lone to Lizabeth appraisingly. “Unfortunately, your lady would be exactly their ideal. Keep her close to you and if possible, disguise her as male.”

“We have some heavy furs to wear for warmth,” Lone said doubtfully. “But I don’t know if any of them can disguise my Lady’s diminutive size and make her look anything but feminine.”

Lizabeth bit her lip and had to hold back a self-deprecating laugh at Lone’s assessment of her. Only a nearly-seven-foot-tall Kindred would describe her full-figured frame as “diminutive.”

“Just do your best,” was the rough reply. “Follow the yellow arrows when you land. I and a company of guards will be coming to meet you at the train station—you won’t be able to board without us. Then we’ll take you straight up to the Tower where you can be fitted for your robes and swear your oath.”

Lizabeth wanted to ask what oath and find out which of them was supposed to swear it but the viewscreen flickered off abruptly. Karx’s bearded face was replaced by the grayish-white curve of Yonnie Two—now much closer than it had been before.

“Well, he seems like an abrupt kind of guy,” Lizabeth remarked, frowning.

“I think he just takes his job seriously,” Lone said. “I can’t say that I blame him, knowing what I do of the Friezens.”

“Do…do you really think they’ll bother us?” Lizabeth’s stomach felt cold.

“Not if they know what’s good for them.” Lone’s voice sounded so deep and grim she had to look at him. There was a cold look on his pale gray eyes she’d never seen there before.

He’s getting ready to protect me, she thought, as they spiraled downward towards the frozen surface of the planet below. He really will kill anyone who tries to hurt me.

The thought sent a shiver down her spine and reminded her that no matter what their chosen profession, all Kindred were warriors first and foremost. All of them spent time in the armed forces of the Mother Ship and all had battle and combat experience.

Funny, she had never thought of Lone like that before. As big and muscular as he was, he was just her assistant who was also an incredible cook and could always make her laugh. Now Lizabeth wondered if she was about to see another side of him. She didn’t know how she felt about that but as they landed in the clearly marked docking area, she felt another shiver go down her spine at the grim, determined look on Lone’s handsome features.

Oh please, she thought uneasily. Let us not have any trouble. Let us get to the train and the Tower without any problems. Please!

Chapter Five

Lone checked the settings on his blaster for the third time as he looked at Lizabeth. Was she covered up enough?

“Lizabeth, perhaps you’d better put on a few more of the heat-saving furs,” he said, frowning.

“Are you kidding?” she exclaimed. “Just look at me! I’m covered head to foot in these things and I’m already baking.”

Lone had to admit she was draped heavily in the thick purple fur wraps which were specially made for extremely cold and bitter weather. But she still looked too feminine—too beautiful—in his estimation.

"I can still see your eyes,” he pointed out.

“Because if you couldn’t, then I couldn’t see where I was going.” She put a hand on her fur-padded hip. “Look, I understand that we’re going into hostile territory but there’s only so much I can do to hide the fact that I’m a woman. Besides, we didn’t see anyone on the 360 view when we landed.”

Lone had to admit that was true. But he didn’t want to take any chances. His own furs were considerably lighter than hers, for added maneuverability, but he didn’t want Lizabeth getting frost bite in the bitter weather or looking like an attractive female target to any Friezens who might be in the area.

“I think we’ll be fine,” Lizabeth said. “Could we just go, Lone? I don’t know when night falls here but it’s already pretty gray out there. I’d rather do this in the daylight than when it gets dark.”

“Good point.” Lone sighed and checked his blaster one more time. “All right, we’re going out. Stay close.”

He opened the door hatch and immediately a blast of icy air whipped inside, stealing their breath away.

“Oh my God!” Lizabeth gasped, wrapping her arms around herself. “I knew it was going to be cold but didn’t that guard from the Tower say it was supposed to be summer here right now?”

“From what I understand, the whole planet is completely impassible in their winter months,” Lone informed her. “I know it’s not very warm but apparently this is as warm as it gets on Yonnie Two.”

“Not very warm?” She gave a breathless little laugh. “That’s an understatement. Ugh—come on. Let’s get out there before I lose my nerve.”

They stepped outside, into the howling wind, and Lone shut and locked the shuttle and put up the anti-theft shield for good measure. He surveyed the landscape which was flat and barren in all directions without a single bit of vegetation as far as the eye could see. The ground they were standing on was naked rock and small swirls of icy snow scudded over it as the ferocious wind whipped and howled.

He didn’t see any of the Friezens—in fact, he didn’t see anyone at all. But he did see a large, yellow arrow pointing off to the left over the frozen landscape.

“This way!” he shouted to Lizabeth who was shivering visibly. He hoped she would be all right during the walk to the train platform. She came from a warm part of the Earth—the South-Eastern United States—and he knew she wasn’t used to such bitter weather.

He took her hand and they made their way to the arrow but the wind was blowing so fiercely that she was soon shivering almost uncontrollably. Though he wanted to keep her in sight, Lone reluctantly decided to put her behind him, so he could act as a kind of wind-break for her.

“Walk behind me, Lizabeth,” he shouted, raising his voice to be heard over the whining moan of the weather. “Just stay close.”

She nodded, apparently too cold to say anything, and they started forward again. Lone saw the next large, yellow arrow painted on the bare, gray rock and then the next after that. He pressed forward, intent on making their goal.

It wasn’t until they got to the last arrow that he saw they weren’t alone anymore.

* * * * *

Lizabeth looked up when Lone halted abruptly. She’d been keeping her head down and concentrating on staying directly behind his broad back so she didn’t immediately see why they were stopping. Nerving herself up for a blast of freezing air, she peered around one of his muscular arms and frowned.

Their path seemed to end abruptly up ahead. After the last arrow all she saw was a sheer face of rock, rising up into the grayish air. There was a deep oval opening in the rock face and a kind of metal platform was coming out of it. Steep metal stairs led up to it. Lizabeth thought it must be where the train came out.

But the train station, which was their ultimate destination, wasn’t what drew Lizabeth’s eyes. Directly in the middle of the yellow paint of the last arrow, a shivering female form huddled. She must not have been there long because when she saw them she looked up and cried out something. The wind snatched her words and despite the translation bacteria she’d been given aboard the Mother Ship, Lizabeth couldn’t make out what she was trying to say.

“Is she hurt?” she shouted to Lone. “We should check on her.”

“We should be careful,” he shouted back. “Could be a trap.”

“But she—” Lizabeth began but the woman got up and staggered over to them before they could debate any longer. She was wrapped in ragged brown and gray furs and from the glimpse Lizabeth got of her face, she looked humanoid and seemed to be about her own age—somewhere in her mid-forties.

“Please!” she gasped when she got to them. “Please, are you going to the mountain stronghold? Will you take me with you?”

“Who are you?” Lizabeth asked, raising her voice above the wind. “Are you all right?”

“I am Anya. They were holding me in the ripening hut but I ran away before the shaman could cut me.” The woman was almost crying now, her large brown eyes filled with emotion. “I don’t want to be the Snow Queen!”

The Snow Queen? Lizabeth frowned. Hadn’t Karx, the head guard they’d talked to on the viewscreen said something about that? Had this woman run away from the savage Friezens before they could force her to participate in their rituals?

“Of course we’ll—” she shouted to Anya. But just then the wind died abruptly and her voice came out much too loud. “Of course we’ll help you,” she finished in a more normal tone of voice.

“Thank you.” The woman blinked back tears. “Oh, thank you so much! I said to myself when I got away that I would come to the last marker and wait and if anyone came I would beg for help. And if not…I would freeze.”

“You mean freeze to death?” Lizabeth asked, frowning. She pulled down the scarf that covered her face and stared at the woman. “Why would you want to do that?”

Anya lifted her chin. “I would rather die than become the Snow Queen. The cold is a kinder death.”

She shivered as she spoke and Lizabeth could see that her attempted suicide would almost certainly have been successful. Her ragged furs didn’t look warm enough to withstand the freezing cold.

“Look at you—you’re already freezing! Here, take some of my furs,” she told Anya.

“No, take some of mine.” Lone frowned and unwrapped the heavy purple mantle he had around his broad shoulders.

“It’s all right, Lone—I’ve got more on than you—I can spare some,” Lizabeth protested.

But Lone shook his head firmly.

“I won’t have you freezing. I’m much better adapted to handle cold weather than you. Kindred anatomy is tougher than human.” He draped the mantle around the woman’s shivering shoulders. “Come—we need to get up to the platform.” He motioned to the metal platform embedded in the rock face above the last arrow.

“You’re going nowhere off-worlder—not until you give back what you have stolen.”

The new voice was deep and harsh and it came from behind them. They had been huddled together, Lone and Lizabeth concentrating on Anya. Now all three of them whirled around.

Standing there, wrapped in gray and black furs which looked much warmer and more substantial than the ones Anya was wearing, were three big, burly men. They were all heavily bearded and their faces looked almost gray with frost. Or was that just the natural color of their skin?

Lizabeth didn’t know and didn’t care. What concerned her most were the crude but effective-looking bows the three men held in their hands. They all had bone and metal tipped arrows and the arrows were pointed directly at her heart.

Suddenly, Lone shoved her roughly behind him and drew his blaster.

“We’re going,” he said in a grim, steady voice. “And you won’t try to stop us unless you have a death wish. I will kill any male who comes near my lady.”

“Give us back what is ours,” the leader growled—at least Lizabeth assumed he was the leader since he was in front. “You have our Snow Queen—give her back.”

“Don’t let them have me!” Anya begged. “I don’t want to be cut! I’d rather die!”

“Shut your mouth, woman!” the leader growled. “You were always a rebellious one—that’s why Terg, our shaman picked you in the first place.”

“He picked me because I have no father or husband to watch over me,” Anya said bitterly. “He picked me because I was easy prey.”

“It doesn’t matter why you were picked. You’ve been lazing around in the ripening hut for months and now you decide you don’t want to do your duty?” the leader demanded. “You know we have no time to ripen another female before the time of sacrifice is over!”

“Leave me alone, Brut,” Anya shouted back. “I never asked to be chosen! I didn’t want to go into the hut—I would have stayed a gray-face all my days if you hadn’t forced me in there!”

“Ungrateful bitch!” The leader raised his arrow higher, pointing it not as the woman, but at Lone, Lizabeth saw with terror. How had things gotten out of hand so quickly?

Lone didn’t flinch.

“Stay back and lower your bow. I assure you the weapon in my hand can do much more damage than your arrows.” His voice was low and steady as he continued to shield Lizabeth and Anya from the Friezens.

“Give us back our Snow Queen!” the leader, Brut, insisted. His black eyes crawled greedily over Lizabeth’s face. “Or else give us your female in exchange—she looks as ripe as Anya is and she’s probably less trouble. Her beauty would be a credit to our sacrifice.”

“Never.” Lone’s voice was a low, angry growl. Hiding behind him as she was, Lizabeth couldn’t see his face but she wondered if his eyes were turning red—a sure sign that a Kindred warrior was going into Rage. It was a state of almost berserker anger—a protective fury that came over a Kindred when he thought the female he loved was in danger.

But Lone didn’t love her—why would he go into Rage for her? She must be mistaken, Lizabeth thought distractedly. Reaching for Anya, she gripped the other woman’s hand.

“Don’t worry,” she said through numb lips. “Lone won’t let them take either of us. Everything is going to be all right.”

She hoped.

The three Friezen males seemed to be talking about something—muttering to each other in low voices that Lizabeth couldn’t hear over the wind, which was beginning to pick up again. Looking around Lone’s muscular arm, she saw them conferring and gesturing—it appeared towards her. At last the leader looked at Lone again.

“Since you will not give us that which is ours, we will take it—and take your female too,” he snarled. “She will make a much better Snow Queen than that rebellions bitch Anya anyway.”

All three bows, which had drifted downward as the men talked, were suddenly raised and Lizabeth heard the twang of bowstrings even over the rising wind. At the same time Lone must have squeezed the trigger of his blaster because a beam of energy shot out and made a smoking hole in the center of one of the Friezen’s chests.

But the damage had been done. Lone gasped and stiffened and suddenly there was an arrow sticking out of his bicep. It was fletched not with feathers, but with some kind of stiff, dark hair, Lizabeth saw distractedly.

“Lone!” she gasped. “Oh God, no!”

“Get to the platform!” he shouted at her, not turning his head. He aimed again and another blast of red energy caught a second archer in the leg, vaporizing the extremity from the knee down.

The Friezen fell to the bare stone howling and grasping at the blackened stump which was all that remained of his lower leg. The leader, Brut, was still on his feet though, and he already had another arrow on the string. Then suddenly, five more Friezens joined him, appearing out of the gray mist like wraiths in a nightmare. And then another five. And another.

Lizabeth tasted fear at the back of her throat—electric and sour like bile. Her heart was pounding so hard she felt as though it was shaking her entire body. But she couldn’t go—not when Lone was wounded and there was only one of him against so many.

“There are too many of them! I won’t leave you,” she cried as Lone and the Friezens faced off.

“Go!” Lone’s normally mild voice was a roar. “Now, Lizabeth! Fucking run!”

He almost never swore—maybe that was what made her obey his shouted order. Or maybe it was the knowledge that she wasn’t armed herself and she and Anya needed to try and get to the relative safety of the platform if they could.

She was just turning to head for the metal stairs that climbed the sheer face of the rock wall when a shower of red and blue beams shot over her head. The blasts of energy landed with deadly effect among the Friezens. Several of them dropped with smoking holes in their chests and one’s head exploded like a ripe melon, spraying a fine mist of blood into the swirling wind.

Lizabeth looked up and saw that an armed group of men dressed in black uniforms were standing on the platform above them now. They were aiming at the Friezens and one of them—it looked like Karx—was shouting and waving for her and Lone to come up the metal stairs.

“Lone, we have help!” she shouted. “Come on—let’s go!”

The big Kindred fired once more at the Friezens—he was aiming for Brut, apparently but the shot went wide. Then he turned and herded Lizabeth and Anya before him—one again making himself a shield as the three of them ran for the metal stairs in the rock face.

Looking over her shoulder, Lizabeth saw the Friezens fire a few more arrows but this time they were aiming into the wind up at the high metal platform. The arrows went wild and were answered with another volley of red and blue blasts. Cursing, Brut motioned for his men and they turned and ran into the swirling mists, disappearing as suddenly as they had appeared.

“Thank the Goddess, I think they’re gone,” Lone said, his deep voice hoarse as they finally reached the metal staircase. “Lizabeth, are you well?”

“I’m fine but you’re wounded!” She eyed the arrow sticking out of his muscular arm. “Are you all right?”

“I’ll be fine. Go up the stairs—we don’t want to risk them coming back.”

Lizabeth nodded in agreement.

“Go on—go,” she said to Anya, who didn’t need any urging. She was already skittering up the metal steps as fast as she could. Lizabeth followed with Lone close behind her. When they got to the top, Karx was glaring at them. His heavy black beard hid much of his face but she could see his red lips pulled down into an angry frown.

“What’s this?” he demanded, speaking to Lone and pointing at Lizabeth and Anya. “You said you were bringing only one female with you.”

“This is my lady, Councilor Lizabeth,” Lone answered nodding at Lizabeth. “This female we found as we made our way here.” He indicated Anya.

“They were going to make me Snow Queen. Please—please don’t send me back,” Anya pleaded, looking up at him.

Karx’s face was hard as he glared from Anya to Lone.

“You took their fucking Snow Queen? Gods, do you know what a mess you’ve made?”

“We didn’t take her—she was running from them,” Lizabeth protested.

“You’ve stirred up all kinds of trouble—trouble we didn’t need.” Karx was still speaking to Lone as though she didn’t exist. Lizabeth thought with irritation that for a guard at a place where women were supposedly revered as being superior to men, he certainly wasn’t acting the part.

“Nevertheless, we couldn’t leave her to be brutalized,” Lone said shortly. “She comes with us.”

“She ought to go back,” Karx snapped. “The Friezens won’t forget or forgive the theft of their Snow Queen.”

“What?” Lizabeth demanded, shoving herself in front of Anya and glaring up at Karx. “I thought the Tower of the Higher Mind revered and protected females!”

“I protect my own lady,” Karx snarled. “And I’m protecting her interests now. The Friezens can make things fucking hard for us if they want to. They can disrupt our supplies or make it impossible for new applicants to get to us.”

“She stays with us or you can tell your Mistress that she can refund my money!” Lizabeth said coolly. “All women are important—not just the one you serve or the rich ones who comes to study with you at the Tower. I will not send Anya back to those savages to be hurt or killed!”

For a moment Karx looked so angry she thought he might hit her. Lone must have thought the same because he came to stand a little in front of her and faced down the other man.

“You heard my lady,” he said. He spoke quietly but there was a deep, growling menace in his voice. “Either let the Friezen female come with us to the Tower or refund our fees. Which will it be?”

Karx’s face was like a thundercloud but at last he jerked his chin at the glass and metal train car to their left.

“Fine. But Mistress Superior won’t be happy about this.”

Lizabeth didn’t care if the director of the Tower of the Higher Mind was happy or not. She just wanted to get in out of this freezing cold and go someplace safe where they could find Lone some medical attention for the arrow still sticking out of his arm.

She reflected that she had never been on an alien world before and so far, she wasn’t enjoying her first off-planet experience at all.

Chapter Six

Karx led the way and the five men he’d brought with him—all dressed in identical black uniforms with red piping—kept their weapons aimed down at the bare rock below as Lizabeth and Lone followed him. Anya, still sniffling, trailed behind as all of them filed into the sleek metal and glass car which hung suspended from a single bronze-colored rail fixed to the roof of the cavern.

When everyone was inside, Karx ordered the doors shut and one of the guards went to the front where a small control box was mounted. With a sharp lurch, the train car began to move, sliding slowly into the dark mouth of the cave. Apparently they were literally going to travel through the mountains to get to the Tower of the Higher Mind.

Lizabeth shivered, even though they were out of the cold and the train car was warm. She didn’t like how the darkness enveloped them so completely. There were weak, golden lights near the top of the car but they only served to throw everything into shadow. She moved closer to Lone, being careful not to touch the arrow still sprouting from his arm.

“You were amazing back there but are you all right?” she murmured, looking up at him. “I mean, I guess that’s a stupid question—you were hit with an arrow. But—”

“I’m well, Lizabeth.” The ghost of a smile stole over his lips. “I’ve had worse wounds in battle. Though now that we’re no longer in danger, I think I’ll pull it out.” He gripped the shaft of the arrow and Lizabeth saw his lips tighten as he prepared to tug.

“Nay, lad.” One of the guards who looked to be in his fifties shouldered his way through the crowded train car and came to stand by them. “Gods-damned Friezens use barbed tips,” he explained, brushing Lone’s hand from the arrow’s shaft. “You’ll need to cut it out. Here—move your furs.”

“Cut it out?” Lizabeth exclaimed but Lone was already moving the heat-saving furs aside to expose the dark green of his uniform shirt.

“Here, let’s see where we are.” The guard, who had gray streaks in his short black beard, tore the heavy, silky material of Lone’s shirt open. He made a jagged rip in the fabric which exposed the place where the long shaft of the arrow—which appeared to be made of bone rather than wood, Lizabeth noticed—was buried.

She drew in a sharp breath when she saw how deeply the arrow was embedded in Lone’s arm. She’d thought before that it was in his bicep but now she saw it was on the outside edge of his arm—was that the tricep? Whatever, she was a lawyer, not a doctor. The point was, it looked bad.

“Yuh, that’ll have to come out,” the guard remarked. “Sooner’s better than later, don’t you think, lad?” he asked Lone.

Lone nodded tightly. “If you have a knife I’ll do it myself.”

“Oh, no need for that with old Joren around.” The guard smiled at him. “I’ve cut out more arrows than a gillard has teeth. Just you hold still and I’ll have it out in a wink.”

Matter-of-factly, he pulled out a long, sharp dagger from its sheath at his belt. Before Lizabeth could protest that they needed to wait until they were someplace with antiseptic and pain killers, the guard—whose name was presumably Joren—had made two swift, deep cuts above and below the shaft of the arrow.

“Wait!” Lizabeth protested as the blood began to well up from Lone’s flesh. “Please, you can’t just—”

But before she could finish the guard had taken a good grip on the arrow. With a swift twist and tug, he yanked it free and held up the bloody arrowhead triumphantly. Just as he had said, there were tiny, jagged barbs along the sides, Lizabeth saw faintly. There was no way it would have come out cleanly without the deep cuts to Lone’s arm. But as the dark crimson blood began to well up from the wound, she still felt sick and unhappy.

“Oh, Lone!” Quickly she grabbed one of her furs and pressed it over the bloody wound, holding firm pressure to try and stop the flow. “God, this is awful!”

“We knew it would be dangerous,” he pointed out in a low voice. “I’ll be fine, Lizabeth—Kindred are fast healers.”

“Kindred, are you?” Joren looked up from cleaning the end of his dagger and gave Lone a critical look. “Might have known it from the size of you. No wonder the two of you decided to steal the Snow Queen right out from under the Friezen’s noses. Kindred can’t stand to see a female in trouble—I know that right enough.”

“We couldn’t just leave her there,” Lone said, frowning. “I did my research before I came—I know what the Friezens do to women.”

“Oh, yuh—they’re right cruel fuckers, they are.” Joren nodded darkly and shot a glance at Anya who was sitting against a wall with her head thrown back and her eyes closed. Lizabeth couldn’t tell if she was only resting or so worn out from her ordeal that she’d fallen asleep. “Escaped from their ripening hut, did she?” he asked.

“Yes, actually. That is what she said.” Lizabeth kept her voice low. “And when they came after her, she said she’d rather be a ‘gray-face’ than be cut. What does all that mean—do you know?”

“Yuh, I know. The Friezens call themselves ‘gray faces’ because their skin gets hard and gray from allus livin’ in the cold. It grows a protective covering-like.” Joren motioned to his own face with the hand not holding the dagger. “But they believe they need a woman with a smooth face for the Snow Queen. So they take one who’s in her second fertility and shove her in a heated hut to stay for months and months until her skin gets soft and clear and smooth again.”

“Her second fertility?” Lizabeth frowned. “What’s that?”

“You don’t know about the second span?” Joren looked surprised. “I kind of thought you might be in it yourself, m’lady,” he added, giving her a penetrating look.

“I’m sorry but I’ve never heard of it before,” Lizabeth said. “Could you please explain?

“Yuh, sure.” Joren shrugged. “Well, the Friezen women only have two periods when they can have children. Once in the second decade of life and once in the fourth. Those in their second fertility are highly prized, don’t you know. It’s said that all the greatest Friezen leaders were born to mothers in their second span. Their children are smarter, stronger, and longer-lived. So say the legends, anyway.”

Lizabeth shot a glance at Lone.

“Is that why you thought I might be extra-attractive to the Friezens? Because of my age?”

“That and your beauty, Mistress,” Lone murmured. “It’s one reason I wanted to be certain your face was covered before we went out of the shuttle,” he added, frowning unhappily. “Unfortunately you took off your scarf. I don’t like the fact that they saw you.”

“Never fear, your lady will be safe at the Tower of the Higher Mind, lad,” Joren said comfortingly. “The Friezens can’t get to us because they have no access to the train and it’s the only way up.”

“Thank you for the reassurance,” Lizabeth said. “But tell us…” She dropped her voice even lower. “What exactly do the Friezens do to their Snow Queen? Poor Anya seemed to be running for her life and she kept saying she didn’t want to be cut.” She nodded at the woman who was plainly asleep now, her face creased with worry, as though she was having bad dreams.

“You sure you want to know, little Mistress? Very well then,” Joren continued before she could answer. “They have this belief that the Snow Queen can conceive better if they cut out her pleasure pearl. Some kind of damn-fool idea that if she has pleasure in the act, all the life-force that ought to go into her child will float out into the wind instead.” He shook his head gravely. “So they hold her down and spread her thighs and…” He didn’t finish in words but made a graphic cutting motion with his dagger.

“Oh, that’s awful!” Lizabeth pressed her own thighs tightly together in horror.

“I told you they practiced female mutilation,” Lone said in a low voice.

“The mutilation’s bad enough but afterwards the shaman and the head of the tribe and just about any other damn male that wants to has a go at her.” Joren’s previously friendly face was dark. “Trying to get her pregnant, y’see. The poor women that go through it don’t always survive the process but if they do and they conceive, the Friezens think they’ll have good hunting out of it all year. And the child that’s born of it—if it’s male—may grow up to be the next leader or shaman of the tribe.”

“God,” Lizabeth breathed, shaking her head. She was doubly glad now that they’d insisted on taking Anya with them. She cast another glance at the sleeping woman. No wonder she’d decided she would rather freeze to death than go through what her people had planned for her! Lizabeth would rather freeze to death herself.

“This practice of the Friezens—haven’t the people of the Tower ever had a thought to stopping it?” Lone asked. His voice was low and angry. “We Kindred worship the Goddess and revere all things female—such mutilation and rape should not be allowed to continue.”

“Ah, we’ve talked of it before.” Joren shook his head. “Unfortunately, there are a lot more of those bastards out there than you saw today. They outnumber us twenty to one—maybe more.”

“But you have superior weapons,” Lone objected. “A blaster is worth ten bows, surely. Hasn’t Mistress Verlandah, the director of the Tower, even considered it?”

“Well, to tell you the truth…” Joren’s voice dropped low. “There’s rumors that she has. But there’s further rumors that she’s reluctant because she’s afraid it might upset her Novice.”

“You mean Karx?” Lizabeth cast a sidelong look at the heavily bearded head of the guards. He was standing in the corner of the train car, his heavy dark brows pulled low, glaring off into the distance as though deep in thought.

“Why would it offend him?” Lone murmured.

“Why, because he’s Friezen—born and bred, lad,” Joren exclaimed, still keeping his voice low. “About a quarter of the guards are and though they’re willing enough to fight against their own kind in a skirmish or two from time to time, the idea of changing the entire Friezen way of life, well…” He shook his head. “That’d fly about as well as a gorock with lead wings, don’t you know.”

“But…how can a place which is supposed to revere women and holds them superior to men allow males from a misogynistic culture to live and work with them?” Lizabeth demanded.

“Well, once they walk through the waters and swear the oath of loyalty to their chosen Mistress, they’re considered purified of their past life. And as long as they keep bending the knee to their female and performing the kiss of obeisance properly, nobody’s allowed to question their devotion.” Joren leaned close. “But it’s my opinion it shouldn’t be allowed,” he muttered. “I do think some of the ones who wind up at the Tower genuinely love and cherish their Mistresses but there’s plnety I’m pretty certain are only there because of the three square meals a day and the chance to get out of the Gods-damned wind that blows all the Gods-damned time on this rock.”

“Whatever the nationality of your guards, the rape and mutilation of the Friezen females should not be allowed to continue,” Lone growled, frowning. “Not when they could stop it.”

“Oh, I’m of the same mind you are, lad,” Joren agreed, nodding vigorously. “Your lady’s pleasure pearl is to be treasured…worshiped with your tongue every chance you get—not hurt or mutilated.” He gave Lone a conspiratorial wink. “I know I spend as much time as I can between my own Mistress’s thighs as I’m sure you do as well.”

Lizabeth bit her lip and shifted uncomfortably, wondering what Lone would say. Just the thought of him between her legs licking her made the needing feel very close. Her breasts and pussy ached at the thought and she hoped she would be able to get a little alone time to use the pump and vibrator she had packed in the tiny miniaturized cube she had in the pocket of her furs.

“I love tasting my lady,” Lone said softly, his eyes flicking to her briefly and then looking away. “You’re right—a male can never get enough time between his Mistress’s thighs. I would spend all day and night there if only she would allow it.”

“A male after my own heart!” Joren laughed and clapped him on the back. “Well, you two just sit tight. We’ll be up at the Tower before you know it and then you can meet my lady—Mistress Anarrah, the Teacher of Law.”

“Oh, I think that’s the Mistress I’m coming to study with,” Lizabeth exclaimed. “Have you been her Novice long?”

Joren nodded. “I’ve been with her for years—since I was a lad in my second decade and she was but in the middle of her third. She taught me how to please her and it’s a lesson she still teaches me well-nigh every night.” He laughed and slapped Lone on the back again. “It’s a lesson I never get tired of learning, I can tell you that.”

“I can imagine,” Lone murmured, smiling.

Lizabeth shifted uncomfortably again as the image of Lone and herself in bed together rose before her mind’s eye. God, her breasts were really aching! Her hands itched to reach out and caress his cheek…to run her fingers through his dark hair. But that would be inappropriate—she was his boss and he was her assistant. And besides that, she was much, much too old for him.

But though she told herself again and again not to think of it—not to think of Lone—still the needing persisted. She was glad for the heavy furs she wore. Even though she was beginning to feel over-warm at least they were too thick to leak through.

“Well now—we’re coming out of the mountain,” Joren said, breaking into her private little hell. “If you’ll look out the windows yonder you’ll see the Tower as we come up to it.”

As he spoke, the train car suddenly broke out of the black gloom and emerged into a clear, blue-gray sky. Since the sides of the car were mostly glass, their surroundings were immediately apparent.

Lizabeth caught her breath at the view. The bronze rail the train was suspended from curved high over the jagged peaks of the mountains below supported by only a few incredibly long trestles here and there. She felt her ears pop as they do in a plane when you reach a certain altitude and when she dared to look down through the window-wall nearest to her, she could tell they were thousands and thousands of feet up.

“Here it comes now,” Joren said.

Looking up to where he was pointing, Lizabeth saw that they were curving around the side of the biggest mountain she had seen yet. It made the other mountains around it look like children playing at their mother’s knees. As the glass and metal car rounded the bend of the jagged peak she saw a huge stone fortress—almost a castle—built right into the side of the mountain. In fact, it almost seemed to grow out of the mountain since the stone of its towers and turrets were the same grayish-blue color as the mountain itself.

“Goddess,” she heard Lone murmur and she couldn’t suppress a gasp of surprise herself.

“Oh, it’s breathtaking,” she exclaimed. “I never imagined it would be so beautiful.”

“Yuh, that’s our Tower.” There was definite pride in Joren’s voice. “Most of it was all hollowed out inside naturally. By the hot-streams, y’know. The first Mistress—she who founded the Tower—saw its potential and had it carved out and made into what you see now.”

“I can’t wait to see the inside of it,” Lizabeth said sincerely. But she was anxious to get inside the Tower for more than one reason. Being this close to Lone for so long had made the needing almost unbearable. Her breasts were filled to the brim with nectar and her pussy was aching with emptiness. She hoped desperately she could find a quiet, private spot to take care of herself as soon as they got inside.

It was a good thing she’d decided to double miniaturize the carry-all cube that held her breast-pump and vibrator, Lizabeth thought. Who knew what would and wouldn’t be allowed at the Tower of the Higher Mind? But she’d made her necessary implements so small she was certain she could hide them with no problem.

Absently, with the hand that wasn’t still holding the fur compress to Lone’s arm, she felt in the pocket of her heat-keeping furs to reassure herself that the cube was still there.

But all her seeking fingers felt was the soft, furry inside of the pocket. Lizabeth frowned. Had she missed it somehow? After the double miniaturization process the cube wasn’t much bigger than a golf ball and the pocket was big and roomy. But after a thorough exploration, she determined it wasn’t there. Well then, had she put it in the other pocket?

Switching hands on Lone’s makeshift bandage, she felt in the other deep pocket…and felt her fingers go right through a large hole in the bottom.

“Oh no!” Lizabeth gasped involuntarily.

“What is it? What’s wrong, Mistress?” Lone asked. Plainly he was already playing the part of the Novice since he hadn’t called her by her name once since they’d entered the train car.

“Oh, uh…nothing,” Lizabeth said miserably. “I just…I, uh, lost all my note-taking supplies that I packed and miniaturized to bring with me. They were in a blue carry-all cube and I think it fell out of a hole in my pocket.”

“Don’t have a care for that, m’lady,” Joren said. “You wouldn’t have been allowed to keep anything you brought with you anyway. Y’must be stripped bare as a babe, bathed in the cleansing waters, and clothed in the proper robes of an Initiate to Knowledge before you can enter the Tower. And any study materials you need will be provided, I can promise you that.”

“Thank you.” Lizabeth tried to smile but she found the guard’s words to be cold comfort. She was certain she could have found a way to hide the tiny cube with her vital supplies in it if only she hadn’t lost it. How was she going to manage without the pump? Her breasts might very well explode—they certainly felt swollen enough to! The emptiness in her pussy was painful too but not nearly as bad as her full breasts.

Lizabeth was in real pain and she had lost the only way she had to help herself.

What was she going to do?

* * * * *

Lone watched her from the corner of his eye and noticed her wince of pain when her arm brushed against her too-full breasts. Was it possible they were filled with nectar again? But Lizabeth had told him she had only had the one needing attack—the one he had helped her with. Had she been lying to him? But why?

She probably doesn’t want your mouth and hands on her again, whispered a dark little voice in his head. She doesn’t want you anywhere near her—hasn’t she shown that in the past few weeks?

It was true—even now Lizabeth seemed to be edging away from him though she couldn’t go too far since she was holding the makeshift fur bandage against his wounded arm. The knowledge that she didn’t want to be near him—even after what they had just been through together—tore at his heart.

“Here, Mistress,” he said roughly. “I can manage this myself.” He took over holding the fur bandage to his wounded arm.

“Oh, Lone—no,” she began but Lone shook his head firmly.

“Don’t worry about me. I know you must want to see the view as we get closer to the Tower.”

“Well…if you’re sure you’re okay.” She edged reluctantly away from him, putting some distance between them, Lone saw. His heart burned within him but he said nothing—only watched as she went over to the far window-wall of the train and drank in the view of the great blue-gray castle growing larger and larger as they approached it.

Chapter Seven

“You must be Mistress Lizabeth Paige. Welcome—welcome to the Tower of the Higher Mind.”

The Mistress Superior, Lady Verlandah, was a tall, imposing woman who must be over six feet in height, Lizabeth thought. She was wearing a long white gown which brushed the gray-blue flagstone floor and a black vest of equal length over it. The vest—which looked like a cape with arm holes to Lizabeth—had the most intricate embroidery all over it in golden thread. It was fastened in front with a golden broach in the shape of some flying creature that looked a little like a cat with wings.

On her hair—which was iron gray and swept up into an elaborate coif—was a thin circlet which was also gold. It wasn’t exactly a crown, Lizabeth thought but then, it wasn’t quite not a crown either. Clearly Lady Verlandah had the authority here and she wasn’t above using not-so-subtle visual cues to show it.

The Mistress Superior looked to be in her mid-fifties to Lizabeth but her face was remarkably smooth and her skin was almost glowing. Her age showed more in her expression and her eyes—which were iron-gray to match her hair—than anywhere else. She must have a wonderful skin-care routine. Lizabeth wondered what it was.

“Hello, Lady Verlandah,” she said, stepping forward and essaying a short, respectful half-bow, which Lone had told her was the correct way for Mistresses or Wise Ones to greet each other. “I am so pleased to be here. Thank you for accepting my application and allowing me to study with you at the Tower of the Higher Mind. It’s beautiful.”

She looked around the entry way which was vast, with stone walls and a high, arching ceiling. There was a long purple carpet which led from the broad front doors, (made of some thick black wood bound in bronze,) where the train had let them off. Mistress Verlandah stood on the rich carpet like a queen come down from her throne to welcome new subjects to her kingdom.

“Yes, we have spared no expense to make it pleasing to the eye,” the Mistress Superior said. “But I understand that in addition to your Novice…” She looked at Lone who bowed low. “You have brought another visitor to see us.” Here she nodded at Anya, the Friezen woman who ducked her head and crouched in a subservient posture of fear.

“Please, great lady,” she whispered. “Please don’t send me back! They were going to cut me—please!”

Mistress Verlandah exchanged a significant look with Karx, who stood to one side glaring blackly at the Friezen woman. For a moment Lizabeth was certain she was going to throw poor Anya out. But when she spoke, her words were—if not exactly gracious and welcoming—at least not completely unkind.

“Of course we would never send you back to those savages, my dear. I cannot let you live here for free but if you’re willing to do a good day’s work, you can stay on as one of the under-maids. And in time you may work your way up, if you are diligent in the tasks assigned to you.”

“Oh yes, great lady! I promise I can do that. I’ll work hard for you,” Anya exclaimed. “Thank you—thank you a thousand times and may all the Gods rain blessings on your head.”

“That would be lovely, I’m sure,” Mistress Verlandah said dryly. “You may go with Tilly, here—she will oversee you.” She snapped her fingers and a woman in a plain, gray-blue dress came forward and led Anya away.

“Thank you for your kindness, Mistress Verlandah,” Lizabeth said gravely.

“Yes, well I had no choice, did I?” The Mistress Superior raised one iron-gray eyebrow at her archly. “Karx called ahead and told me you were very, ahem, set on having her stay.”

“She was going to be raped and mutilated, Wise One,” Lone said, his voice soft but very deep. “We could not allow that to happen. I hope you understand.”

“What I understand is that an unwashed Novice is speaking to me as though he were my equal!” Mistress Verlandah frowned at him and then at Lizabeth. “How long have you had him?”

“Lone has been my assistant, er, Novice for the last two years,” Lizabeth said. “But—”

“And you still have not trained him properly? Well, we shall have to remedy that. No, no—do not apologize,” she said, holding up a hand to stop Lizabeth from speaking, though an apology was the last thing on her mind. “We have Initiates to Knowledge come here all the time with untrained Novices, more’s the pity. Which is why we hold classes on the proper training and deportment of one’s Novice here on a regular basis. I’ll see that you’re enrolled in one as well as the legal studies you wish to undertake."

She sighed. "Now, then, we must get the two of you cleansed and robed properly. But first perhaps you’d like to meet the one who will guide you in your journey to knowledge?”

“Yes, please,” Lizabeth said, swallowing down her anger with some difficulty. She didn’t like to see Lone treated like a second-class citizen just for speaking his mind but it also didn’t seem like it would do any good to make the Mistress Superior angry.

“Very well—this is the Wise One, Mistress Anarrah, the Teacher of Law. She is in her seventh decade of life and five of her decades have been devoted to the law—I think you will find her an excellent teacher.”

Mistress Verlandah made a graceful motion and a small woman came forward. If what the Mistress Superior had said was correct, she was somewhere in her seventies but she certainly didn’t look it to Lizabeth. She looked to be in her mid fifties and was also wearing a white gown and a long black cape-vest, though her vest was much plainer than Mistress Verlandah’s. It only had a bit of silver embroidery on the edges and was held closed by a silver broach.

Her hair was also silver and swept up in a soft cascade of curls at the nape of her neck. Like the Mistress Superior, her skin was remarkably smooth and glowing—even the flesh of her neck and exposed arms was firm and wrinkle-free. Once more, Lizabeth thought that her age was mostly expressed in her eyes and she wondered again what kind of skin-care routine they had around here.

“Greetings, my dear,” she said, smiling warmly at Lizabeth and holding out her hands. “I’m so glad you’ve come to study with me.”

“Thank you, I’m eager to learn,” Lizabeth said. “And we already met your Novice, Joren, on the way up. He removed an arrow from Lone—from my Novice’s arm,” she added.

“Did, he now?” Mistress Anarrah smiled.

“That I did, my Lady.” Joren came over and bowed low before sinking to his knees before his Mistress. “I have missed you, my Lady Anarrah,” he murmured huskily, looking up at her. “I would give you the kiss of obeisance if I may, so I would.”

Mistress Anarrah let out a tinkling peal of laugher.

“Ah, Joren—after so many years together you are still so eager!”

“Because you are still so beautiful, my Lady,” Joren murmured. “Please, may I greet you properly?”

“Very well, but come away a little—our new Initiate to Knowledge, Lady Lizabeth, is still unused to our ways.”

Mistress Anarrah turned her back and Lizabeth thought she saw her opening the long black vest that covered her white gown. Joren was still kneeling in front of her and he seemed to be doing…something, though Lizabeth couldn’t tell what it was since Mistress Anarrah’s back was to them. But she heard the other woman murmuring soft, caressing words and she seemed to be stroking Joren’s hair. His arms were locked around her waist and he seemed to be very into whatever he was doing.

Lizabeth wondered uneasily what the two of them were up to. What exactly did the “kiss of obeisance” involve? And would she have to make Lone perform it on her, whatever it was? The thought made her over-full breasts ache even more strongly for some reason and she wondered again what she was going to do about the needing which was growing painful now.

“My Lady Verlandah,” Karx growled, speaking to the Mistress Superior and drawing Lizabeth’s attention away from the strange scene with Joren and Mistress Anarrah. “I would give you the kiss of obeisance as well.”

He came and knelt before his tall mistress but the Mistress Superior frowned and shook her head.

“I think not, Karx. I am none too pleased with you at the moment. You do not deserve to do me the honor.”

“Then let me kiss your hands, at least,” he demanded. “I went out and risked my life to bring these two to you.” He jerked his head at Lone and Lizabeth. “I did that for you—and killed many of the Friezens who used to be my own people. You cannot deny me a kiss of greeting at least.”

“Very well.” Lady Verlandah extended her long, pale hands and Karx took them and began to kiss her, starting at the backs of her fingers and then her palms and pulse-points.

Lizabeth, watching, thought his kisses looked both sensual and angry, though never rough. She wondered if his thick, heavy beard was scratching the sensitive skin of the Mistress Superior’s slim hands.

“Thank you, Karx—that will do,” Mistress Verlandah withdrew her hands at last and motioned for her Novice to rise. He did so but then glared down at her from his superior height in an almost challenging way, Lizabeth thought as she watched from the corner of her eye. What was the power dynamic between these two? She found watching them both fascinating and unnerving. A sidelong glance at Lone proved that he was watching them too, with a small, puzzled frown on his face.

Just then, Joren and Mistress Anarrah finished…whatever they had been doing and she refastened her long black vest with the silver broach. Joren rose and they both turned around to face Lizabeth and Lone again.

Lizabeth couldn’t help seeing that their eyes were bright and their cheeks were flushed with pleasure—both of them. What in the world had they been doing together? She thought she could guess at least in part but was it really the custom to do such things in public here?

“You must excuse us, my Lady Lizabeth,” Mistress Anarrah said, giving a little embarrassed laugh like tinkling chimes. “My Joren is as lusty as he was when I first took him as a Novice, so long ago.”

“Yuh—I was but an untrained lad at the time,” Joren said, smiling down at her. “But you taught me, my Lady. Trained me how to please you.”

“And you please me still, my Novice.” She smiled and squeezed his hand. “But now I must escort these two to the cleansing pools and then give them proper attire. Your further obeisance to me will have to wait until later.”

“I await it eagerly,” Joren murmured, giving his Mistress a knowing smile. Then he turned to Lizabeth and Lone. “I’ll see the two of you later.” He bowed and smiled.

“Thank you, that would be nice,” Lizabeth said, not sure what else she could say.

“You are dismissed,” Mistress Verlandah said abruptly. “Anarrah, take them to the cleansing pools. I don’t wish to see either of them again until they’re properly attired. Come and find me when you’re ready and we can do the oath.”

“Yes, Mistress Superior.” Mistress Anarrah gave a little half-bow and motioned for Lizabeth and Lone. “Come my dears—you must be half dead with cold and fatigue. Let’s get the two of you warm and clean and decently dressed.”

Lizabeth smiled and she and Lone followed her new teacher deeper into the bowels of the Tower of the Higher Mind.

What else could they do?

Chapter Eight

Lone watched as his lady paced ahead of him, staying one step behind her as he had read was the proper etiquette for Novices with their Mistresses at the Tower. He had been watching the interactions between the Mistress Superior and Karx and Mistress Anarrah and Joren as closely as Lizabeth and he wondered exactly what was going on here.

Why had Joren been so pleased to give his Mistress the kiss of obeisance and why had Karx been so angry when his Mistress denied him the same? Were these some of the hidden customs and unwritten rules that had been hinted about in the literature about the Tower? And would he and Lizabeth be expected to perform them too—whatever they were?

He was perfectly happy to kneel before Lizabeth and kiss her hands—or any part of her anatomy for that matter. But he wasn’t sure how Lizabeth would feel about it. She was still keeping her distance from him though the two of them occasionally exchanged glances and then looked quickly away.

The distance between them hurt Lone’s heart. He knew that at any other time they would have been eager to compare notes about the vast stone castle and its strange occupants. But now he felt as though there was a wall between them—invisible but impassible all the same—and he couldn’t reach Lizabeth through it, no matter how hard he tried.

At last, after walking down a long stone hallway with immensely high ceilings, they came to a door made of the same black wood that composed the front entryway.

“Here are the cleansing pools,” Mistress Anarrah said, pushing open the door and beckoning them inside.

“Oh, they’re lovely,” Lizabeth said as the two of them took in the vast, echoing chamber. There was a long, narrow rectangular pool of water, much like a lap pool on Earth, Lone thought. Though there was no obvious division between its two halves, the right side of the pool was brilliant pinkish-red and the left side was aquamarine-blue. Steam was rising delicately from the surface of the water on both sides and a warm, delicious aroma filled the air. It was both sweet and spicy and for some reason just breathing it in seemed to clear his head and make him feel better.

“Yes, we are quite proud of our amenities here at the Tower.” Mistress Anarrah smiled. “Now please remove your clothing and step into the water, the both of you.”

“Remove our clothing?” There was a slightly panicked sound to Lizabeth’s voice. “All our clothing?”

“Well of course, my dear. How else can you be properly cleansed?” Mistress Anarrah looked puzzled.

“I don’t know if we should,” Lizabeth said quickly. “I mean, Lone—my Novice—has a deep wound in his arm where Joren cut the Friezen arrow out. I think we need to get medical attention for him before we do anything else.”

“Actually, Mistress, the wound is closed,” Lone informed her.

“It is?” She looked as though she could scarcely believe it.

Lone nodded. “See for yourself.” He removed the long fur that she had used as a bandage and let her see the healing marks on his arm. “I told you Kindred are quick healers,” he reminded her. “And Twin Kindred especially—we have self-sealing organs and flesh.”

“Oh,” Lizabeth said faintly. “Oh, I just thought…”

You thought you’d found an excuse for us not to be naked together, Lone thought. But though he wanted to see her beautiful body so badly he ached, the last thing he would ever wish to do was make her uncomfortable.

“It’s all right, Mistress,” he said softly. “I will go first if you prefer and then avert my eyes when it is your turn.”

“What nonsense is this?” Mistress Anarrah exclaimed, frowning at them. “The two of you must go together into the cleansing pools! That is the way with Mistresses and Novices.” She looked at Lizabeth who was biting her lip. “You’re not ashamed to be seen naked by your Novice, are you my dear?” she asked.

“Not exactly, I just…where I come from the relationship between the Mistress and Novice is not quite so…intimate.” Lizabeth’s changeable blue-green-gray eyes flicked up to him and Lone wondered if she was remembering the way he had sucked her nipples when the needing came on her. “Lone is really more of my assistant at work,” she further explained. “We are close, of course but not…not get-naked-and-take-a-bath-together close,” she finished in a rush.

Mistress Anarrah shook her head and clicked her tongue.

“I’m afraid your relationship must deepen if you are to stay here in the Tower of the Higher Mind, my dear. A Novice must be everything to his Mistress—he must tend to her needs—spiritually, mentally, physically, and sexually. And in return, he will gain valuable knowledge of the subject she studies and the ways in which he may please a woman.”

“So you’ll kick us out if we don’t follow your rules exactly?” Lizabeth demanded. “Is that what you’re saying?”

“Not I, my dear.” Mistress Anarrah raised her hands quickly. “But I am afraid that the Mistress Superior doesn’t allow much in the way of dissent among the Initiates to Knowledge. She, ah, ‘runs a tight ship’ is the way my dear Joren puts it. Now please…” She motioned at the heavy furs that Lizabeth still wore. “I must ask that the two of you strip and enter the cleansing pools—your Novice on the left and you, my dear, on the right.”

Lizabeth took a deep breath and Lone saw a look of pure misery pass over her face. His heart fisted in his chest at the sight of her unhappiness. Was she really so unwilling to let him see her naked? Was she ashamed of her body? He knew she was older than he was and was what Earth women called “plus-sized.” But what humans called “plus-sized” Twin Kindred called “Elite”—a female blessed by the Goddess with extra-full curves. How could she be ashamed to show off such beauty?

“It’s all right, Mistress,” he murmured, barely moving his mouth and speaking for her ears alone. “I won’t look if you don’t want me to.”

Lizabeth shot him a grateful glance.

“Thank you,” she breathed. Then she looked up at Mistress Anarrah. “All right, we’ll do it.”

“Good, my dear. Then I shall await you at the other end of the pools, in the clothing room.”

With a graceful sweep of her silver-haired head, Mistress Anarrah walked down the length of the pool, her long skirts making a rustling sound as they trailed along the flagstones.

Deliberately, Lone turned his back to Lizabeth and began to strip. He was willing to let her have her privacy if it was so important to her. She had never been exactly shy with him but he knew she was a modest person. Other than the time of her first and only needing, he had never seen more than her lower legs and her throat and wrists, since she wore business skirt-suits almost exclusively.

After a moment he heard the rustle of furs and other clothing and knew that Lizabeth was stripping too. He stood naked, waiting for her, keeping his gaze turned resolutely away although he ached to turn and feast his eyes on her ripe curves.

Gods how he wished he could see her—touch her—again. But it seemed that wasn’t to be.

* * * * *

Lizabeth was more than grateful for Lone’s consideration of her privacy. She was embarrassed at the idea of him seeing her naked. She wasn’t quite as firm as she’d been before her forties had hit and she was also considerably fuller-figured than she had been before her divorce. But her main concern was that he might see her swollen breasts and guess that she had been lying about the needing going away.

She looked down at herself ruefully as she peeled off her blouse and the bra with its nursing pads and left them on the floor, along with the heap of heat-keeping furs since there seemed to be nowhere else to put them. Her breasts, if possible, looked even bigger than they had ever been before. Her nipples were red and swollen, though for once they weren’t leaking. But her entire chest area ached—it made Lizabeth feel like a cow that needed to be milked.

How long can I go on like this? she wondered dismally. How long before I get mastitis or some kind of infection? God, it hurts so much!

Longingly, she remembered the deep, pleasurable suction of Lone’s hot mouth the one and only time he had helped her—the immediate easing of pain as he drew the sticky nectar from her nipples and freed her of the aching and tightness. God, if only she could ask his help again!

But no—letting him do that once had been bad enough. She wondered again if it had disgusted him or if he had only done it as a favor because he knew she needed it. Was he like other loner Twin Kindred with no sexual feelings at all? Had it all been a study in awkwardness to him—an unpleasant duty he'd had to perform?

But even if he’d liked it, it was still wrong…still wildly inappropriate. She was too old for him…she was his boss. There was no way anything could or should happen between them. If it did, she would be no better than her ex, Bernard, flaunting his ridiculous new relationship with a girl young enough to be his daughter. Lizabeth had been down the road of having a relationship with a younger man once in her life, before she’d gotten married. It had not ended prettily. They—

“Oh!” Lizabeth gave a little exclamation of surprise as she slipped out of the thick boots she’d been wearing and put her bare foot on the carved blue-gray flagstones.

“Lizabeth—I mean, Mistress?” Lone half turned his head and then seemed to stop himself before he looked at her over his broad shoulder. “Are you well?” he asked.

“I’m fine. Just…surprised.” Lizabeth raised her foot and put it down again. “It’s warm—the stones are warm. I didn’t expect that—I thought they would be freezing cold.”

“Joren did tell us that the interior of the Tower had been hollowed out by hot springs,” he reminded her. “Perhaps the water in the cleansing pools is also running beneath the flagstones—a kind of natural hydro-thermal energy source right below our feet.”

“Maybe so.” Lizabeth said. “That would make sense. Okay.” She took a deep breath. “I’m ready to go. Are you?”

“You can look at me and see that I am if you want to,” was his reply. “I don’t mind.”

“Oh, well…” Lizabeth cleared her throat. She couldn’t deny that her eyes had been straying to his tall, muscular naked form…his broad back…his tight ass…his long legs…In every way her assistant was completely mouthwatering.

And completely off-limits, she reminded herself sternly as her breasts ached even more at the thought. She wished she could see his front side too and then squashed the thought almost immediately. It was bad enough that she’d been ogling his ass.

“Um, we should probably go in,” she said, to cover her confusion.

“Agreed. I have never asked you this, but can you swim?” Lone asked, a tinge of worry in his voice. “The pool looks deep—especially in the middle.”

“I was raised in Florida, land of a thousand swampy lakes and a million backyard pools,” Lizabeth said dryly. “My mom and dad made sure I had swimming lessons almost before I could walk—it’s the only way to keep your babies safe from drowning down there.”

“Very well—I’m glad to hear it.” Lone sounded relieved.

“Can you—swim I mean?” Lizabeth asked him.

“Twin Moons is a planet dotted with islands,” he told her, a little smile playing around the corner of his sensuous mouth, though he still wasn’t looking at her. “I was also taught to swim almost before I could walk.”

“Good then—let’s go get this over with.”

Taking a deep breath, Lizabeth headed for the water. She got right up to the edge of the pinkish-red half of the pool and dipped her toes in—only to pull back with a sharp hiss of pain.

“Ouch!” she exclaimed. “They weren’t kidding when they said hot springs—this water’s boiling! There’s no way we can get in there.”

“That hot, is it?” Lone knelt by the blue side of the pool and dipped his fingers in experimentally. But he pulled back as quickly as Lizabeth had.

“Hot, isn’t it?” Lizabeth said grimly.

“Actually, no.” He frowned, still carefully not looking at her. “It’s cold—freezing.”

“What? But that doesn’t make any sense!” Lizabeth protested. “How can one side be boiling hot and the other be freezing cold in the same pool? And how are we supposed to go into it and through it if it’s both too hot and too cold to stand at the same time?”

“Oh my dears, what’s taking you so long?”

Suddenly Mistress Anarrah appeared at the far end of the pool. She had some long swatches of fabric over one of her arms which might have been the clothing they were supposed to wear.

Lizabeth gave a little gasp and tried to cover herself with her arms. She didn’t want her new teacher seeing her naked any more than she wanted Lone—or anybody else for that matter—seeing her in the nude. She had always been an extremely private and modest person.

“We’re trying to get into the cleansing pool but the pink half is too hot and the blue half is too cold,” she called to Mistress Anarrah, her voice echoing and bouncing in the stone chamber. “How are we supposed to do this? Are we doing something wrong?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so if you’re attempting to go in alone. You must touch each other, my dear.” Mistress Anarrah made motions at them. “That way the male and female energy will balance each other out and you can traverse the pool together. No one can go through the cleansing pool alone, which is one reason we require all the Initiates to Knowledge who comes to us to bring a Novice with them.”

“Oh, well…all right.” Lizabeth nodded reluctantly. “Give us another minute then, we’ll, uh, be to the other side soon.”

“See that you are. I’m almost through choosing your robes and the Mistress Superior won’t like to be kept waiting for the oath-taking ceremony.”

With a nod of her silver head, Mistress Anarrah turned and went back into the small room at the far end of the pool.

“All right,” Lone said, still not looking at her. “Would you like to hold hands as we enter the pool, Mistress?”

“Yes. But you don’t have to call me that when it’s just us, Lone,” she protested.

“I think it’s better to keep in character,” he said mildly. “I don’t know what the punishment might be if I forgot and called you by your first name in front of the Mistress Superior.”

“That’s true,” Lizabeth agreed. “Since she nearly bit your head off just for speaking your mind back in the entryway. I’m, uh, sorry I didn’t stand up for you more,” she added lamely.

“It’s all right,” Lone murmured. “We have a prescribed relationship here—roles that both of us have to play. I don’t mind playing along as long as we get what we came for.”

“Knowledge of how to beat the Yonnites at their own game,” Lizabeth said grimly. “All right…” She took a deep breath. “Ready to try again?”

“Yes.” He held out a hand, still keeping his eyes away from her.

Lizabeth took it and Lone entwined their fingers. She couldn’t help feeling like a child holding hands with an adult, his long, strong fingers were so much larger than her own. But there was a comfort in the contact too and she realized again how much she’d missed touching him—just being close to him.

Lone seemed to feel the same way because he squeezed her fingers lightly and a smile touched the corners of his mouth.

“Very well, Mistress—let’s try again.”

“On the count of three we’ll dip our toes in,” Lizabeth suggested. “All right?”

Lone nodded. “Count away.”

“One…two…three. Now!” Lizabeth took a deep breath and both of them put their toes in together, Lone in the blue half of the pool and she in the pink half.

This time the water was pleasantly warm.

“Oh!” Lizabeth breathed in surprise. No matter what Mistress Anarrah had told them, she had more than half expected to get burned again. “That actually feels really nice,” she said, looking up at Lone.

“It does,” he agreed. “Should we get all the way in?”

“I’d love to.” Lizabeth shivered. “It’s actually kind of chilly in here without clothes.”

“Agreed,” Lone said. “All right, let’s get in.”

There was a long set of broad, shallow steps that led down into the pool. The two of them walked in together, making certain to keep holding hands as they did so.

“Oh, this feels nice,” Lizabeth murmured as the warm, steamy water came up to her waist and then up to her chest. The deeper she went, the more relaxed she felt. The warm water seemed to soothe away the tension she’d been carrying for weeks, making her feel both calmer and rejuvenated at the same time. It even felt good against her aching breasts and sore nipples. It didn’t take away the ache exactly but it seemed to change it in a way she couldn’t exactly define.

“It’s very soothing,” Lone agreed. “But…does it seem to be getting cooler to you?”

“No…” Lizabeth frowned as they moved deeper into the pool. They were getting near the middle now and even though the water was almost up to her neck, it hadn’t quite reached the small, flat copper disks of Lone’s nipples yet. “Actually…it seems like it’s getting warmer to me.”

In fact, though the water had started out a very pleasant temperature, she was beginning rapidly to feel overheated, she realized. What was going on?

Lone shivered and she saw that the exposed skin of his muscular arms had broken out into goosebumps.

“It’s getting really c-cold now,” he said, his teeth beginning to chatter.

“And I’m beginning to feel like I’m getting boiled alive,” Lizabeth complained. “I—oh!”

The last word ended in a gurgle. The pool had been sloping gradually downward until she was walking on her tiptoes and the next step she took, her foot encountered…nothing. Her head dunked under the water as she slipped abruptly down into the heated depths.

“Lizabeth?” Lone’s deep voice was muffled by the water between them but the next thing she knew, he had pulled her to him and lifted her head out of the water. Holding her close in his arms, he studied her face anxiously. “Are you all right?”

“I…I think so.” Lizabeth coughed and wiped at her eyes. “The pool dropped off so sharply there! Did you feel it?”

“It was a steep step down,” Lone admitted. He was up to his neck now, Lizabeth saw but he still appeared to be standing firmly on the bottom of the pool. It was a good thing he was so tall, she thought.

“Ugh…” She pushed her wet hair out of her eyes. “I didn’t mean to get my hair wet. I must look like a drowned rat.”

“Not at all. You look beautiful,” Lone murmured, smiling down at her.

“Oh…thank you.” Suddenly Lizabeth realized how very close they were. Lone was holding her against his side with one arm wrapped around her waist and her full breasts were bobbing just under the water, pressing against the broad planes of his chest. In her fright, she had involuntarily wrapped her legs around him and her bare pussy was rubbing against his corded abdomen.

The sudden closeness caused her body to throb all over with the needing and she hoped that her nipples hadn’t started leaking, though it would be hard to tell in the colored water.

“Um…” she coughed. “I, uh, guess I’ll be swimming the rest of the way.”

“You could,” Lone said softly, making no move to let her go. “Or you could just let me carry you. It’s going to be damn awkward trying to swim while we’re holding hands.”

“I don’t know about that,” Lizabeth said uneasily. She had a sudden extremely unprofessional urge to kiss him…to run her fingers through his thick hair and draw him down to taste those sensuous lips of his…

Can’t do that! Have to get away.

“I think I can swim all right,” she said. Determinedly, she began untangling herself and Lone let her though she thought his face looked sad.

“Just be sure we keep holding hands,” he said. “We don’t need one of us to boil and the other to freeze.”

“True.” Lizabeth clasped hands with him again and began treading water but the minute she was away from his big body, she felt the pinkish water, which had been pleasantly warm only a moment ago, starting to get too hot—way too hot. “Oh, what is it?” she exclaimed with a gasp. “It just got hot again!”

“My side just got freezing c-cold.” Lone shivered, his teeth chattering. “Lizabeth,” he said. “Come here—I want to t-try s-something.”

Lizabeth might have asked what he wanted to “try” but she was too uncomfortable and beginning to panic about getting boiled alive to worry about impropriety at that moment. She went to him willingly and when Lone pulled her into his arms again, the temperature abruptly normalized.

“Hey!” She looked around, wondering if there was some kind of temperature gauge somewhere. “What just happened? The water feels normal now.”

“Same for me.” Lone breathed a sigh of relief. “I thought I was going to freeze for a moment there.”

“And I thought I was going to boil.” Lizabeth gave a shaky laugh. “Why did it change?”

“I think the water senses when we’re too far apart,” Lone said, frowning. “Maybe we weren’t touching enough? For whatever reason, when we drift apart, the temperatures become too extreme to bear.” He looked at her apologetically. “I’m sorry, Mistress, but it seems as though I’ll have to carry you after all.”

“All right.” Lizabeth sighed and hooked her arms around his neck. “I don’t really mind. I just didn’t want you to feel…uncomfortable,” she said and cleared her throat.

“Why would I be uncomfortable carrying you?” Lone asked softly as he wrapped his arms around her and began moving forward again.

“You mean besides the fact that we’re both naked?” Lizabeth pointed out, her cheeks getting hot. “And the fact that it’s really wildly inappropriate for a boss to go skinny-dipping with her assistant?”

Lone frowned. “What is ‘skinny-dipping?’ I don’t think I’ve heard that phrase before.”

“It means swimming naked,” Lizabeth said. “And I haven’t done it since I was in college. Although back then, I actually was skinny enough to do it. Now…not so much. I’m too old and too, well, not-skinny to be swimming around naked.”

“Why do you always do that?” Lone frowned at her.

“Why do I do what?” Lizabeth asked, frowning back.

“Why do you always make disparaging remarks about yourself? About your curves or your age?” he demanded. “You’re beautiful, Lizabeth—you shouldn’t speak so about yourself.”

“Oh, uh…” Lizabeth felt tongue-tied, not sure what to say. “Thank you,” she whispered at last.

“You’re what we Twin Kindred call an ‘Elite’—a female the Goddess has blessed with extra-generous curves,” Lone continued, frowning at her. “You shouldn’t wish them or the wisdom that you’ve gained in your life away.”

“I…never thought of it like that,” Lizabeth admitted. And she’d also never known that her assistant had a thing for plus-sized women, she thought to herself. If he had a thing for any women at all—as a loner, he probably didn’t. Maybe he was just being kind. “Thank you,” she said, still feeling awkward.

“I just want you to see yourself as I see you,” Lone murmured. He stopped moving for a moment and looked her directly in the eyes. “Gorgeous.”

Lizabeth looked up at him, her breath catching in her throat. Okay, so maybe he really did have a thing for plus-sized women. The sincerity and true admiration in his pale gray eyes made her body feel tight and achy all over. And the way he was looking at her seemed a lot more than just friendly.

“Lone, I…I don’t know exactly what to say,” she whispered. “ I just—”

“There you are—almost done. Come out, my dears,” Mistress Anarrah’s tinkling voice broke the moment and they both looked up to see that they were almost at the other end of the pool. Lone was still carrying Lizabeth, holding her cradled like a baby in his strong arms as though she was light as a feather—which she knew for certain was not the case.

“You’ve been in the cleansing waters long enough for the effects to last for years,” Mistress Anarrah went on. “Do come out now.”

“We’re coming.” Lizabeth started to tell Lone to put her down but they were still in the pool and she didn’t want to risk either freezing or boiling. So, still feeling self-conscious, she stayed still in his arms until he climbed out of the pool and put her down—rather reluctantly, she thought.

“Very good. Here you are—some warming blankets to dry you off.” Mistress Anarrah handed each of them a wide, sheet-like piece of puffy, blue-green material.

“Thank you!” Lizabeth was glad to wrap herself up and finally cover her nakedness. She wondered uneasily if Lone had seen how swollen her breasts were. It had seemed that he was keeping his eyes strictly above her chin but it was hard to tell what he had and hadn’t seen.

“Now that you’re cleansed and refreshed, do come into the clothing room. I have your robes all picked out.” Mistress Anarrah bustled the two of them into the small stone room at the end of the pool and Lizabeth was surprised to see that it was bigger than it had looked from the outside.

There were rows and rows of long white gowns and long black vests with different colored embroidery on them on one side of the room. On the other were rows of loose linen trousers, mostly in shades of black and dark green. There were shorter, broader vests too, which seemed to be made of some kind of leather.

“Here you are my dear.” Mistress Anarrah handed Lone a pair of black trousers and a black vest. “Those are fairly self-explanatory,” she said, as she took Lizabeth by the arm. “But I must help your Mistress into her robes for the first time. Come, dear,” she added and hustled Lizabeth to the far end of the long room where a white gown and a long black vest were laid out on a small wooden table. “Now try these on—I’m fairly certain I got your size right,” she said anxiously.

“Um…” Lizabeth looked at the clothing. “Aren’t there any, uh, underclothes to go with these?” she asked.

“Underclothes?” Mistress Anarrah shook her head. “Do you mean clothes you wear under your other clothes? Whyever would you do that? It would get in the way of the necessary greetings.”

“Okay, but…I’m just afraid I’m going to need support under this,” Lizabeth said, frowning at the white gown, which appeared to be made of some slinky, clinging material. “I’m forty-five so I’m not as firm as I used to be.” Although right now her breasts were so full and swollen it was barely an issue. Still, she didn’t like going without a bra and panties.

“Oh, I think you’ve firmed up considerably, my dear.” Mistress Anarrah’s pale blue eyes glowed with amusement. “You certainly spent enough time in the cleansing pool.”

Lizabeth shook her head. “I don’t understand. What do you mean?”

“I mean, look at yourself, my dear. At the skin under your arms and your inner thighs—the flesh under your neck. All those pesky little places we females start to sag as time goes on.”

Still frowning, Lizabeth did as she said and looked under her right arm…then her left. What she saw astonished her. After she’d hit forty, the skin of her upper arms had begun to sag and it seemed that no amount of exercise could firm it up again. Now it was as smooth and firm as it had been back when she was in her twenties.

Eagerly, she felt under her chin—the skin there was firmer too! And when she reached between her thighs, she couldn’t feel an ounce of cellulite. She was still plus-sized but it was as though someone had gone over her entire body with some kind of age-defying serum and just kind of smoothed and tightened everything.

“Wow,” she whispered, looking at Mistress Anarrah. “How…what…?”

“The cleansing waters have firming properties,” the other woman answered, her eyes twinkling. “Though they cannot roll back the years, they can, at least, lessen their impact.”

Lizabeth stared at her in surprise. No wonder none of the Mistresses she’d met here had looked their age!

“But…that’s amazing,” she exclaimed. “When does it wear off?”

“The amount of time you were in the waters?” Mistress Anarrah pursed her lips and frowned, as though calculating. “I’d say it will last a good, long time—maybe even the rest of your life, my dear. Depending on the way your species ages and how long you live, that is.”

“Wow,” Lizabeth murmured again. Though she wasn’t vain, she suddenly wanted a mirror badly—wanted to know if the effects of the cleansing pool looked as dramatic as they felt.

“They also make you feel refreshed all over. I try to take a dip at least once a week myself, although I long ago reached the maximum efficacy of the waters. Now then,” Mistress Anarrah continued in a brisker tone. “I’m glad you like the effects of the pool but you really must get dressed now. We still have to do the oath, you know.”

“All right.”

Lizabeth felt so stunned she didn’t even ask what the oath was. She picked up the white dress without further protest and put it on. It wasn’t until she got it over her head and pulled it down that she realized there was a problem.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, looking down at herself as she got the dress into position. “I’m sorry, but this one has holes in it. Do you have moths here? Small insects that eat holes in fabric?” she added, explaining. “We have them on my home planet of Earth.”

Mistress Anarrah let loose with another tinkling peal of laughter.

“Oh my dear—no insects did that to the gown. It’s meant to be that way.”

“What?” Lizabeth looked blankly down at herself. “But…my, uh, nipples are sticking out,” she protested in a low voice. Indeed, both sore, aching tips were fully exposed. The holes in the white gown—which clung to her like a second skin—were large enough to show both nipples and the wide pink bands of her areolas. It looked positively obscene, especially considering how red her nipples were from her daily fights with the breast pump.

“Precisely,” Mistress Anarrah said, smiling. “Now let me see—do you have the bottom situated correctly? The slit must be right in the center.”

Lizabeth looked down and realized that the slinky white gown did indeed have a slit right up the center of it’s lower half—a slit which ran almost to her belly button. The moment she moved her legs, her bare pussy—which was thankfully neatly trimmed—was exposed.

“Hey!” she protested. “I can’t wear this!”

“Of course you can—it’s the uniform all of the Mistresses wear here at the Tower,” Mistress Anarrah said briskly. “But don’t worry about being exposed to all and sundry, my dear—that is what the modesty vest is for. Here—put it on.”

She helped Lizabeth put on the cape-like vest and fastened it with a broach similar to her own. Although it wasn’t actually a broach, Lizabeth saw, but a small, powerful magnet which kept the long black vest closed.

“I still feel kind of exposed under here,” she said, frowning. Her breasts were pushing at the black and white fabric that covered them and her tight, achy nipples were clearly visible, pressing against the vest. At least the material of the vest seemed to be soft and smooth so it wasn’t too painful but what if she started leaking nectar again? What then?

“You’ll be fine, my dear,” Mistress Anarrah promised. “Now let’s just do a little something with your hair…” She produced a kind of wand with a glowing pink end at its tip. As she waved it over Lizabeth’s hair—being careful not to actually touch her with it—Lizabeth felt her long, damp strands drying into their usual waves. Before she knew it, she was clean and dry all over, though still feeling a little strange about wearing the cut-out gown under the long black vest.

“There now—you look lovely,” Mistress Anarrah said approvingly. “Come—let’s not keep the Mistress Superior waiting any longer. “You may come now, Novice,” she added, looking over Lizabeth’s shoulder to speak to Lone. “Your Mistress is ready to hear your oath of love and loyalty to her.”

Oh—the oath! Suddenly Lizabeth remembered the strangely beautiful pledge that Lone had recited to her the day before when he had first proposed coming here to the Tower of the Higher Mind. That must be what they were talking about.

Well, at least he already has it memorized, she thought as Lone came to join them. That should make things easier.

“I’m ready, Mistress,” Lone said in his deep, quiet voice as he joined them. He looked spectacular in the clothing Mistress Anarrah had given him, Lizabeth thought. He was shirtless and the short, black leather vest emphasized his muscular chest and biceps.

The loose, silky black trousers he was wearing looked a little like pajama pants. They hung from his lean hips and were low enough to show the V of muscle that ran downward to his groin.

As she examined his clothing, Lizabeth realized he was also looking at hers. Had he seen the way her nipples were poking out, making tiny tents in the thin black fabric of the vest?

Maybe so because, as she watched, a much larger tent began to grow in the silky black trousers. Oh my God—was he getting hard? Because of her?

Lizabeth dragged her eyes away, feeling her cheeks get hot.

Don’t look! she ordered herself and yet her eyes kept flickering to his crotch of their own volition. One thing was for certain, Lone was big all over.

“Well now—you’re both ready so let’s go.” Mistress Anarrah clapped her hands, breaking the awkward silence. “This way, my dears,” she said and led them out of the clothing room and into a different part of the castle.

Chapter Nine

Lone told himself to stop staring at Lizabeth but she looked so beautiful in the new clothing provided by Mistress Anarrah he could hardly help himself. The silky white gown and thin black vest clung to the lush curves of her full hips and ass, making him ache to cup her there and hold her against him.

Just like you held her in the cleansing pools—naked and slippery and wet, whispered a hungry voice in his head. He remembered the feel of her full breasts against his chest and the brush of her soft little pussy against his hip before she’d pulled away. Gods, she was beautiful! Though he had tried his best not to look, he couldn’t help catching glimpses of her through the pink and blue waters.

But he wasn’t only aroused by her—he was also concerned. Her breasts were definitely larger than was normal for her. Were they filled with nectar again? But if they were, didn’t that mean Lizabeth was having a needing attack? And if she was, then why wouldn’t she ask him to help her?

Maybe for the same reason she pulled away in the pool—she doesn’t want you, whispered a dark little voice in his head. You’re just a loner without a twin to help you bond and she’s a beautiful, successful female. Maybe she only thinks of you as an assistant and a friend and wants to keep it that way.

But if she really was in needing she would have to ask for help soon, Lone thought, frowning. Even if she didn’t long for him the way he longed for her, she couldn’t take care of this problem on her own and he knew Lizabeth well enough to know she wouldn’t ask a stranger for such intimate assistance. She had always been a very private and modest person during the two years they had worked together. Besides, it wasn’t like she could ask for help when others, like Mistress Anarrah, were watching.

Maybe she’s waiting to ask me later? Or maybe not—maybe she lied about only having one needing attack and she’s found some way to deal with this on her own.

But how? And was she in pain right now? He remembered the way she winced when she’d accidentally touched her breasts. Every part of him ached to ease her pain—to take her sweet nipples in his mouth and suck and kiss and lave the tight little points with his tongue to help her feel better.

But of course he could do no such thing unless Lizabeth asked him. And he might be wrong—maybe her breasts had just increased in size after the original needing incident and this was their normal size now.

Reluctantly, Lone decided he would just have to wait and see—there was nothing else he could do.

* * * * *

The cleansing waters had soothed some of the ache from Lizabeth’s overfull breasts but as they walked, following Mistress Anarrah deeper into the Tower, they began to ache again.

Lizabeth tried to ignore the pain and studied the vast stone castle instead. They seemed to be passing out of the man-made part and into the part that had been carved naturally by the hot springs. The rooms were no longer regular in shape—instead of straight lines there were curves and swirls—bulges where there shouldn’t be and hollows deep enough to get lost in.

It was beautiful, Lizabeth thought, in a surreal kind of way. She felt like she was walking in a dreamscape that might change unexpectedly at any time.

At last they came to an especially large, echoing cavern whose walls were shining mineral deposits of rich purple, all scooped and rounded and polished by eons of water rushing against them.

It’s like being in the center of a geode.

Lizabeth looked all around her and saw that in the center of the room was a raised dais made of the same bronze metal that bound the doors and comprised the railing of the train. Mounted on the dais was a throne-like chair of the same metal and sitting on its padded crimson cushion was Mistress Verlandah.

The Mistress Superior looked supremely bored. She was tapping her long fingernails upon the bronze arm of the chair and frowning as though she had better things to do. Standing by her side was her Novice, Karx, but the two of them weren’t talking. There seemed to be an almost angry silence between them, Lizabeth thought, although she couldn’t say exactly why she thought that—it was more a feeling in the atmosphere of the huge, glittering chamber than anything concrete she could really put her finger on.

When Mistress Verlandah saw Mistress Anarrah approaching with Lone and Lizabeth she sat up straighter and scowled.

“What took you so long? You know they cannot be admitted until the oath has been given and accepted. I have more important matters to attend to!”

“My apologies, Mistress Superior.” Mistress Anarrah came to a stop before the bronze throne-chair and bowed low. “There was a bit of confusion at the cleansing pools but we got it all sorted out and here they are—all bathed and cleansed and ready to be admitted to the Tower as Mistress and Novice.”

“And about time, too,” Mistress Verlandah snapped. “Novice,” she said, beckoning to Lone. “Come here and kneel before me. And your Mistress must come to.”

They came and arranged themselves before the throne and then Mistress Verlandah had them turn so that they were facing each other with Lizabeth standing over the kneeling Lone. He was so tall that even kneeling, they were almost eye-to-eye. When they were situated to the Mistress Superior’s satisfaction, Lizabeth thought that they must look like actors about to put on a play for an audience of one.

“Well, now that we’re finally in position—Karx, do you have a dagger?” Verlandah asked.

Wordlessly, the bearded guard stood forward, drew a long, sharp dagger from the sheath at his belt. Bowing, he held it out hilt first to his Mistress.

The Mistress Superior took it and then motioned to Lizabeth to take it from her.

“Come now, don’t be shy. Haven’t you ever held a dagger before?” she demanded when Lizabeth was somewhat reluctant to take the shining, deadly instrument from her hand.

Lizabeth thought about saying handling deadly weapons wasn’t in her job description and then decided it was better to keep quiet. She simply took the dagger and held it with the sharp tip pointed carefully downward.

“Good. Now, Anarrah—you tell the story of the first Mistress and her Novice. Go on, I know you like doing it.” Verlandah motioned to the Mistress of the Law.

“I do indeed,” Anarrah said in her soft, tinkling voice. She cleared her throat and began in a soft, haunting gone that evoked ages long past.

“Many, many ages ago, the First Mistress came here to the Tower of the Higher Mind, although it was not the Tower then—but only the Sacred Mountain.” She made a flowing motion with her arms, indicating the mountain all around them. “The First Mistress came from the Yonnie home world and she was heart-sick and soul-weary.

“She did not believe, as others of her kind, that males were only good for use as bodyslaves but neither did she consider them her equal. For you see, my children…” Mistress Anarrah made a sorrowful gesture with both hands, almost like tears flowing. “She had loved a male and he had broken her heart and her will to live. And so she decided to seek a home in the frozen mountains of Yonnie Two and to never see another male again, either slave or free.”

Lizabeth watched, fascinated as the narrative continued. She hadn’t expected to hear the origin story of this strange place but now that Mistress Anarrah was telling it so beautifully, she was captivated. A glance at Lone showed that he was watching in rapt silence as well.

“The First Mistress lived alone in the Sacred Mountain for some time but though she told herself she needed time to heal, she found that she was lonely,” Anarrah went on. “Then came the day that a male from one of the savage tribes south of the mountains came to her door. The First Mistress would not allow him entrance to begin with—she knew the despicable things those in the south did to females and she had no wish to become a casualty of their ignorance.

“But this male—the First Novice—begged so hard that she let him in so he would not freeze that she at last relented. He told the First Mistress his story, how he had run from the brutality of his tribe because he wished to worship women, not hurt them. Such desires were considered a weakness among his people, he said.

"To begin with, the First Mistress did not trust him. She kept a weapon—a dagger—with her always and would not allow the First Novice to come within touching distance of her,” Mistress Anarrah went on in her lovely, silvery voice.

Lizabeth thought that she didn’t blame the First Mistress for not trusting a strange guy’s intentions—especially if he was one of the savage, misogynistic Friezens. But she was curious to know how the story ended.

“Though she did not trust him to begin with, slowly the First Novice proved his desire to serve,” Anarrah went on. “He repaired and restored and fashioned the first rooms of what was to become the Tower of the Higher Mind. He served the First Mistress with his labor and begged to be allowed to give her the kiss of greeting when they met.”

Mistress Anarrah made a graceful gesture at Lizabeth.

“Give your Novice your hands, my dear. Here—I’ll hold the dagger for this part,” she murmured.

“Oh…of course.” Lizabeth carefully handed the dagger off to the Mistress of Law and then gave her hands to Lone, who took them in his own, much larger ones. Holding Lizabeth’s gaze, he kissed her hands…first the backs of her fingers…then the pulse-points in her wrists.

“Oh…” Lizabeth whispered. His pale gray eyes were holding hers as his hot mouth moved gently over her skin. It reminded her of the sweet way he had sucked her nipples during her first needing attack and she could feel her over-ripe breasts aching. Were her nipples beginning to leak? She hoped not but it certainly felt like it. She hoped that no one would notice since the vest she wore over them was black. Maybe she could keep it a secret.

And still Lone was kissing her hands, his gray eyes burning into hers. Finally, he laid hot, gentle kisses in the center of both her palms before, reluctantly she thought, he let her go.

“Lovely,” Mistress Anarrah breathed happily. “And so,” she went on with the story, “The First Mistress at last began to trust the first Novice, and even to care for him. But there was one thing she would not allow—though she let him serve her in all other ways, she refused to allow the First Novice to share her bed and serve her there. Until at last, he gave his oath.”

As she spoke, she gave the dagger she had been holding to Lone this time and whispered, “Unfasten your vest, dear and lay your chest bare.”

Lone did as he was asked, shrugging out of his vest and baring his broad, muscular chest. It was a mouthwatering sight, Lizabeth couldn’t help thinking, even though she knew it was an inappropriate thought.

“The First Novice knelt before the First Mistress and this is what he said,” Mistress Anarrah murmured.

On cue, Lone looked her in the eyes and spoke the same words that had made her heart flutter when she heard them for the first time the day before.

“Mistress,” he murmured, “Hear me now and may the iron pierce my heart if I lie—I mean you no harm and wish only to serve you in every way.”

“Very good,” Mistress Anarrah said encouragingly. “And now you must cut a mark over your heart with the tip of the blade—to symbolize your devotion.”

“What?” Lizabeth protested, the romantic bubble she’d somehow drifted into bursting abruptly. “Wait—why does he have to be wounded?”

“Because it’s part of the oath-taking ceremony, of course,” Mistress Verlandah snapped impatiently. “There must be blood to seal it or we cannot allow you to stay here at the Tower of the Higher Mind.”

“I don’t mind, Mistress,” Lone assured her. “I will gladly cut myself to show my devotion for you.” He looked at Mistress Anarrah. “What mark shall I make?”

“Something that symbolizes your lady,” Mistress Anarrah suggested. “Whatever makes you think of her.”

“No, wait—you’ve already shown your devotion, Lone,” Lizabeth said firmly. “You got shot in the arm getting me here safely. You shouldn’t have to be wounded again.”

“I have told you—there must be blood to seal the ceremony.” Mistress Verlandah was looking more than irritated now—her face was turning a dark, angry color and she was glaring at Lizabeth.

Lizabeth lifted her chin. Let her glare—she had no intention of allowing Lone to carve his name over her heart and have a permanent scar just to suit their stupid ritual. Then she had an idea.

“All right,” she said. “If there has to be blood—here.”

Reaching forward, she drew the tip of her right index finger over the sharp blade of the dagger. She felt a stinging pain like a paper cut and then a fat droplet of crimson welled up on the tip.

Leaning over, she carefully drew a small, distinct cursive L on the left side of Lone’s chest, right over his heart. Then she straightened up and looked at Mistress Verlandah.

“Will that work for you?”

The Mistress Superior was looking at her with some interest and Lizabeth couldn’t help noticing that her Novice, Karx, was also studying her and Lone as well. The expression on the dark, bearded face was something like hunger…and something like envy. For some reason, Lizabeth’s simple actions seemed to have made a great impression on him.

“So…you willingly spill blood for him. For your Novice,” Mistress Verlandah mused at last.

“He spilled blood for me,” Lizabeth said, frowning. “On the way here, he was shot with an arrow defending me. It’s only fair.”

“Yes, I suppose so. I wondered about the two of you.” The Mistress Superior’s sharp gray eyes scanned Lizabeth and Lone speculatively. “Now I see your relationship must be a love-match and not just a paring of convenience.”

“Excuse me?” Lizabeth raised an eyebrow at her, not understanding.

“Oh, so many of our Initiates to Knowledge come to the Tower without a true Novice,” Mistress Anarrah explained, looking sad. “They know they must bring a Novice—a younger male who longs to protect and serve them and whom they care for in turn. But since they have no one in their life who matches that description, they bring the first available male they can get their hands on. Some even hire males they’ve never met before to pretend to be their Novices.” She shivered. “It’s a dreadful sacrilege.”

“We dismiss most of them, of course,” Mistress Verlandah remarked. “We have our standards to uphold. I wasn’t certain when I first saw you if there was genuine affection between the two of you or not.” She nodded regally. “Now I see that there is. Very well, I deem this blood sacrifice acceptable—you may continue with the oath,” she added, looking at Lone.

“Thank you,” Lone murmured. He looked up at Lizabeth again. “Mistress… my body is yours to use as you see fit…my mind is yours to mold. My strength shall ward you always…my lips shall sing your praises…my tongue shall taste your honey…my heart shall beat only for you.” He leaned forward, his eyes burning into hers. “Use me,” he breathed.

“Oh,” Lizabeth whispered again. She hadn’t gotten to hear the full oath the first time he had spoken it and she found herself unexpectedly touched by the beautiful words. And the sensuous way Lone was looking at her with his pale gray eyes half-lidded and his voice a deep rumble as he begged her to “use” him, was enough to make her breasts throb and her pussy clench with need.

She was definitely leaking now—she just hoped that no one was noticing—especially not Lone.

“When the First Mistress heard those words,” Mistress Anarrah said softly, “She at last believed in the First Novice’s love and adoration for her. She allowed him into her heart and into her bed. And forever after she allowed him to give her the kiss of obeisance to prove his love and devotion to her always.”

She motioned to Lizabeth. “Go on, my dear. Open your modesty vest and allow your Novice to give you the kiss of obeisance.”

“Um…what?” Lizabeth was drawn out of the warm, sensuous moment as suddenly as though somebody had splashed a bucket of cold water in her face. “What did you say?” she repeated.

“Open your vest and allow your Novice to kiss your breasts and sex,” Lady Verlandah said, frowning.

“But…but I’m bare under here.” Lizabeth clutched at the long black vest uncertainly.

“Of course, you are—the reason for the obeisance gown is to allow your Novice access when he wants to show his devotion to you,” the Mistress Superior snapped. “I thought the two of you truly cared for each other—that we were to finally admit the first new Initiate to Knowledge that we’ve had here at the Tower in over five cycles.”

“We…we do care about each other,” Lizabeth said carefully. “But we…I…on my home world, we don’t do such things in…in public.”

“Then it’s a good thing we’re not on your home world,” Mistress Verlandah remarked icily. “We are at the Tower of the Higher Mind and if you wish to remain here and learn the law from Mistress Anarrah, you must complete the ritual of the oath. Tell me now, Initiate, what is your choice?”

Lizabeth couldn’t believe she was getting railroaded like this. Was she really going to be forced to let Lone kiss her in such intimate areas in front of all these people or they would be kicked out of the Tower?

From the implacable look in Mistress Verlandah’s steely gray eyes, it seemed the answer was yes.

But I’m leaking! What if they all see it? What will they say? And what about Lone—does he want to do this?

From the smoldering, half-lidded look in his eyes, she thought he actually might. But it was still mortifying to just expect him to dive in and kiss her breasts and pussy as though he was her love-slave or something.

It was a horribly embarrassing situation but Lizabeth realized they were going to have to go through with it. As for the nectar leaking from the tips of her nipples, she just hoped it wouldn’t be too visible to anyone but Lone. Of course she would doubtless have to have a conversation about the nectar and her needing with him later but for now, she needed to concentrate on getting through this.

“All right,” she said at last when it appeared that the Mistress Superior was about to kick them out of the Tower. “All right, he…he can give me the kiss of greeting.”

“The kiss of obeisance, my dear,” Mistress Anarrah corrected gently. “The kiss of greeting involves only the hands and wrists. And then of course, there is the kiss of pleasure. But that is generally done in private unless it’s in a teaching situation, of course.”

Lizabeth didn’t know what she was talking about and she didn’t want to know. She felt numb to everything else around her as she pulled at the silver magnetic broach that held her long black vest together and spread the panels of black fabric to bare herself.

As the vest parted, she couldn’t help feeling like some kind of a flasher with Lone as her victim. But the reverent look on the big warrior’s face soon drove that idea out of her mind. He was still kneeling but now he came up on his knees and reached for her, eager desire filling his face.

“Mistress,” he murmured hoarsely. “Let me give you the kiss of obeisance. Let me show you how much I admire and adore you.”

Despite herself and the awkward situation she found herself in, Lizabeth couldn’t help but feel herself melting inside—just a little—at the hungry way he was looking at her. Either he really did want to do this with her or he was a superlative actor. And she tended to think it was the former rather than the latter.

“Lone,” she murmured, stepping more fully into his arms. Not even the shining droplets of nectar beading the tips of her nipples could make her stop. Her whole body ached and throbbed for him as the needing nearly overtook her.

“Mistress,” he murmured again and, leaning forward, he placed a hot, wet, open-mouthed kiss on her right nipple.

Lizabeth gave a little cry as she felt her aching, tingling peak bathed briefly in the heat of his mouth. God, it felt so good. She wished he would suck her now and ease the pressure in her breast. But she knew if he started sucking, the emptiness in her pussy would grow exponentially worse. Also, both breasts might start gushing at once which would be really hard to explain.

Lone seemed to know all this because after a long, gentle kiss, he finally moved on to the left nipple and treated it just as gently and reverently as the right. When he pulled back, Lizabeth saw him licking his lips and knew that he had tasted her nectar and understood that she was having a needing attack. There was worry in his pale gray eyes for her and he raised his eyebrows at her as if to ask, Are you all right?

Lizabeth nodded. She would be fine if they could just get this over with, she told herself. She would manage somehow, although she wasn’t certain how.

“Very good, my dears,” Mistress Anarrah murmured. “And now let him kiss you on the sex and the ceremony will be over.”

This was, if possible, even more embarrassing. But Lizabeth knew there was no getting out of it. Taking a deep breath, she widened her stance somewhat and then motioned for Lone.

“All right—come on, Novice.” She hoped that her voice didn’t shake too much.

“As my Lady wishes,” Lone murmured, his voice a deep, hungry growl. Leaning forward, he cupped her hips in his hands and pressed forward so that his mouth was on level with her neatly-trimmed pussy mound.

But instead of kissing her right away, he first rubbed his mouth and cheeks against her—almost like a cat marking its territory, Lizabeth thought. God, it felt awkward and good at the same time—the warm scratchiness of his cheeks and the softness of his lips…

“For the Goddess’s sake, get on with it,” Lady Verlandah interrupted. “What’s all this you’re doing to your Mistress? Just kiss her and have done with it.” She shook her head. “I can see the two of you really do need lessons in proper deportment.”

Lone ignored the Mistress Superior and looked up at Lizabeth instead.

“With your permission, Mistress,” he rumbled. “May I kiss your sweet pussy?”

“Yes, Lone…” His words seemed to set a fire inside her. “Yes,” she breathed. “Go…go ahead.”

Lone seemed to need no more urging. Leaning forward eagerly, he pressed his mouth to her pussy and this time Lizabeth felt him making the most of his time between her thighs as his hot breath caressed her skin and he kissed her passionately, as though it was her mouth he was kissing.

“Oh,” she whispered and somehow her hands found their way to his thick mahogany hair which felt so silky against her fingers. She felt the warm wetness as the tip of his tongue slipped briefly over her sensitive clit, making her moan and twitch her hips.

Lone seemed to like this—he nuzzled closer between her thighs and lapped at her again, making her gasp and jump as a new bolt of pleasure ran through her. The emptiness in her pussy was growing again but there was nothing she could do about it, nothing but try to endure until the kiss was over. And Lone seemed to take a long, long time before he finally pulled away.

“Gods, Mistress,” he groaned softly, looking up at her. “You taste so sweet.” His lips were shiny with her juices and Lizabeth realized that her nipples weren’t the only part of her that was leaking. Her pussy was wet with her honey—she seemed to be overflowing all over just because Lone had touched her…kissed her…

“Lone,” she whispered unsteadily, allowing her fingers to slide from his hair down to cup his warm, scratchy cheek in her palm. Their eyes met and held and somehow she couldn’t look away. “Oh, Lone,” she murmured again.

“Mistress,” he growled softly. “I am yours.” His eyes were filled with a hungry need that Lizabeth felt echoed in her own body. Suddenly she wanted him desperately—needed him.

Leaning down, she cupped his face in both hands and kissed him, tasting her own secret flavor on his sensuous lips. Lone deepened the kiss hungrily, yearning towards her though he remained on his knees, leaning in to taste and take her mouth with his own.

Shouldn’t be doing this! whispered a little voice in the back of Lizabeth’s head. He’s your assistant…he’s way too young for you! Remember what happed with Arturo!

But that had been so long ago—another lifetime. She didn’t want to think of the old pain now—of a past that had happened even before she’d met and married and subsequently divorced Bernard. All she wanted to think of was the sweetness of Lone’s mouth on hers, the hungriness of his kiss, the way his big hands had found their way to her hips and he was pulling her forward as she kissed him…

“Well, if I wasn’t sure of the love match before, this has made it abundantly obvious.” The Mistress Superior’s dry, acerbic tones cut into the sweet, sensual moment and Lizabeth realized what she was doing—kissing her assistant in front of a bunch of strangers.

She drew back, abruptly filled with shame. What was wrong with her? Why had she done that? She tried to tell herself it was because of the aching in her over-full breasts and the deep emptiness in her pussy—the effects of the needing. But somehow she couldn’t quite make herself believe those were the only reasons.

“Mistress?” Lone looked at her uncertainly, his gray eyes still hungry.

“Finish it,” Mistress Verlandah snapped, speaking to Anarrah, who had been standing quietly with a small smile on her lovely face.

“Yes, of course, Mistress Superior,” she murmured. “And from that day forward, the First Mistress and the First Novice lived in harmony and built the Tower of the Higher Mind together. Still, in their honor, we Mistresses take Novices into our lives and hearts and beds. We train them and release them if they wish to go…or keep them always if they wish to stay. That is the way of the Tower.”

“Very good.” Mistress Verlandah nodded with grudging approval. “You always do an excellent job at the oath ceremonies, Anarrah.”

“Thank you. It’s been so long since we were able to have one.” Mistress Anarrah sighed happily. “Well, my dears,” she said to Lizabeth and Lone. “Let’s go and get the two of you settled in your chambers so you can relax a little before dinner, shall we?”

“Of…of course,” Lizabeth stuttered. Her breasts were aching fiercely. As she closed the black vest over them, her nipples throbbed in protest at the contact with the fabric. She needed to get this taken care of…needed to have Lone help her again. But how could she do that? How could she continue what they had started at the oath ceremony? It wasn’t right and she knew it.

Avoiding Lone’s eyes, she followed Mistress Anarrah as they left the huge purple throne-room chamber.

Chapter Ten

Lone paced outside the door of the fresher as he waited for Lizabeth to come out. She had fled inside and locked herself in the minute Mistress Anarrah had let them into their luxurious living quarters and he hadn’t heard a peep out of her since. He’d been waiting more than an hour now and still she showed no sign of coming out.

She’s in need—I know she is! I could taste her nectar—see it leaking from her nipples, he thought. Her breasts are so full they have to be aching so why isn’t she asking me to help her?

He knew she wanted his help—he could see it in her eyes. And the way that she kissed him during the oath ceremony—he had felt a hunger in that kiss that matched his own. So why had she locked herself in the fresher? And why wasn’t she coming out? Was she trying to deal with the problem herself? There was no possible way she could. So then what in the Seven Hells was going on?

Lone usually considered himself a patient person but now his patience was at an end.

“Lizabeth?” he called, knocking hard on the fresher door. “Lizabeth, come out now. You’ve been in there long enough and we need to talk.”

He was going to get to the bottom of this no matter what.

* * * * *

Lizabeth jerked guiltily when she heard the pounding on the bathroom door. She had known she would have to talk to Lone at some point but she just didn’t feel like she could face him right now. He would want to talk about what had happened between them—would want to know why she hadn’t told him she was having a needing attack.

And she didn’t know what to say.

Why did I do that? Why did I kiss him? It’s so inappropriate—so wrong.

So liable to get her hurt. A memory from her past flashed up—Arturo laughing, his dark eyes filled with admiration. Lizabeth pushed it back down again.

She looked down at the white gown she was wearing, now stained all down the front with the amber nectar that flowed sluggishly from her red and swollen nipples. Her breasts ached fiercely and she had tried to squeeze them, hoping to get the nectar flowing more freely and relieve some of the pressure.

But though it flowed until her gown was stained, it still wasn’t enough. The ache was so great she could hardly stand it but it wasn’t as painful as the humiliation and uncertainty of asking Lone to help her again.

Still, there was no putting off this confrontation any longer. Taking a deep breath, she rose from the side of the vast marble tub where she’d been sitting and fastened the black vest again, though even the touch of the soft fabric hurt her sensitive peaks. Lifting her chin, she opened the door of the bathroom and stepped out into the luxurious bed chamber they had been given.

“All right,” she said, using her best courtroom voice. “I’m here. What do you want to talk about?”

Lone scowled at her.

“You know damn well what we need to talk about, Mistress. You’re in need.”

Lizabeth thought about denying it but really, what was the point? They both knew she was having a needing attack and that she couldn’t help herself.

“All right,” she said, lifting her chin. “I am in need. What about it?”

“What about it?” Lone looked more upset than she’d ever seen him. “Look at yourself, Lizabeth!” he exclaimed, gesturing to her. “Your breasts are swollen—you must be in excruciating pain. Why haven’t you asked me to help you?”

“I…I didn’t want to,” she said but now she had to look away, unable to meet his gaze. “Didn’t want you to help me.”

“Why? It’s not that you don’t want my hands and mouth on you,” Lone growled softly. “That’s what I thought at first. But I smelled your desire during the oath ceremony. I tasted the wetness of your pussy. So why?”

“I…it’s not appropriate,” she said at last, fumbling for an explanation. “I’m your boss, Lone. And besides, I didn’t want you to feel like you had to help me like you did the…the first time.”

“You think I felt obligated to help you?” he demanded. “That I didn’t want to do it?”

“Well, from what I’ve read about loners, I thought you might not,” Lizabeth shot back, glaring up at him. “I know that often Twin Kindred without a twin don’t have sexual feelings for anyone. I thought you might have been disgusted…repulsed…”

“What?” Lone ran a hand through his hair, an expression of disbelief crossing his strong features. He stepped forward and took her by the shoulders, looking earnestly down into her face. “Lizabeth,” he said hoarsely. “How could you think that? How could you think that anything about you would repulse me when I…” He shook his head, looking away for a moment, a muscle bunching in the side of his jaw. “Did I give you that impression?” he asked at last. “The first time I helped you?”

Lizabeth bit her lip.

“Not exactly, no,” she admitted. “But you’ve always been such a nice guy—so helpful and uncomplaining. I was sure that even if you didn’t like…doing what you did, you would never have complained or showed it. You have too much consideration for my feelings to do that.”

“You’re right,” he said savagely, releasing her suddenly. “I do have too much consideration. All this time I’ve been giving you space, letting you keep your distance. And this is what happens.” He stabbed a finger at her. “This isn’t the only needing attack you’ve had since the first one, is it?” When she didn’t answer at once he leaned closer. “Is it, Lizabeth?” he demanded in a low growl.

“No, all right?” she exclaimed. She couldn’t believe she was having a fight with her sweet, good-tempered assistant. Where had the soft-spoken, self-deprecating Lone gone and who was this angry, passionate stranger in his place? It was like she’d only seen the Light Twin part of his personality before this and now the Dark Twin half had come out in full force.

“All right…” The muscle in the side of his jaw was tensing again. “So how many have you had? I thought the antidote was supposed to take care of it.”

“The antidote didn’t help a damn bit,” Lizabeth admitted recklessly. “As for the needing attacks, well…” She took a deep breath. “It’s been pretty much constant for the past two weeks.”

“What?” Lone nearly exploded. “How have you been dealing with this? Don’t you know you could have permanent damage if you don’t get yourself cared for?”

“Yes, I know that. And I know my own body,” Lizabeth snapped. “I’ve been using a breast pump and…and that’s how I’ve been dealing with it,” she finished quickly. God, she’d almost admitted she’d been using a vibrator as well. Thank goodness she’d caught herself before she blurted out that bit of embarrassing information!

“A breast pump doesn’t have strong enough suction to draw out the nectar,” Lone said, frowning. “I know for a fact that several unmated females who were affected by the Xi-46 compound tried and failed to control their nectar production that way.”

“Well, it helps some, anyway,” Lizabeth said defensively. “And if I hadn’t lost the one I brought with me, we wouldn’t be having this conversation now.”

For a moment Lone looked angry again…then a sadness filled his eyes that made her heart ache.

“Was it really that distasteful to you, Lizabeth? Letting me help you?” he asked, his deep voice quiet.

“No…no, of course not,” she said hastily. “But Lone, you’re my assistant not…” She cleared her throat. “Not my lover.”

“Why should that have anything to do with it?” he asked, frowning. “You’re in pain, Lizabeth—you’ve been in pain for the past two weeks. I’ll ask you again—why didn’t you ask for my help?”

Her past whispered to her, speaking of that old pain that she’d tried to bury, but Lizabeth pushed it away.

“This is ridiculous.” She threw up her hands. “I don’t have to justify myself to you! I’m your boss.”

“No, right now you’re a female in need,” he countered, frowning. “And you’re going to do yourself an injury or have permanent damage to your breasts if you don’t let me help you now.”

Lizabeth thought with longing of how good his warm mouth felt on her swollen nipples… of how desperately she wished the ache in her breasts would go away. But her pride rose up in her, as well as the bad memories, and she couldn’t give in somehow…she just couldn’t.

“I’ll be fine,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest—and then wincing and drawing them back immediately. God, even the lightest touch hurt like hell now!

“No, you won’t. Look at yourself.” Lone took a step closer and pulled open the long black vest, baring her swollen nipples. “You can’t go on like this, Lizabeth. I won’t let you go on hurting yourself!”

Lizabeth gasped and tried to pull the vest closed but he wouldn’t let her. Instead he got both her wrists in one big hand and held them over her head in an iron grip.

“Lone,” she gasped, struggling against him. “Lone, what are you doing? Let me go!”

But instead of obeying her he pushed her over to the vast, four-poster canopy bed that dominated the room and forced her to sit on the edge of it with her arms still held above her head.

Lizabeth fought him but she might as well have been fighting against a brick wall. She had never felt frightened or intimidated by her assistant’s size before—she’d managed to forget for long stretches at a time that he was over a foot taller than her and probably twice her weight in hard, ungiving muscle. But he’d never pushed her to the bed and held her down before either and she had never seen that dark, angry look in his gray eyes, which looked like storm clouds as he glared at her.

“Lone,” she demanded breathlessly. “Lone, stop this right now.”

“No,” he growled and with a quick maneuver he had her hands pinned behind her back instead, so that her breasts thrust out from her chest. “Not until you’re out of danger and out of pain.”

He knelt before her in front of the bed, one arm curved around her back to hold her hands in place and his big body between her knees. He was close enough to kiss but he just looked at her—looked her in the eyes.

“I’m going to do this, Lizabeth,” he said in a quiet, intense voice. “I’d rather do it with your permission but I’ll do it just the same without. We’re light years from any other form of help but even if we were back on the Mother Ship in the middle of the med center, you know the only remedy for the needing is a male’s attention. And I’m the only male here you know.”

Lizabeth stared at him, not certain what to say. Part of her was mad as hell that he would dare to do this—dare to reverse their roles this way and take the leadership when she had always been the one in control. And part of her was frightened—he was so much bigger than her—so much stronger. He had never used his strength against her before and he wasn’t really hurting her now—just holding her down. But still, it was scary.

She couldn’t believe this was sweet, dependable Lone holding her down and telling her he was going to suck her nipples whether she wanted him to or not. But the look in his gray eyes was implacable—it was clear he meant what he said. He wasn’t letting her go until he had drained the nectar from her breasts and she was no longer in danger or pain.

“Damn you, Lone,” she panted at last. “All right then. I can’t stop you, so go on—do it!”

He gave her a long look.

“Forgive me,” he said and then bent his head to draw her right nipple deep into his mouth.

Lizabeth arched her back and gave a long, low moan as he began to suck—gently at first and then harder. The tight pressure in her breast had gotten so bad in the past hour it almost felt like someone was sticking knives into her sensitive mounds. As Lone took the first few swallows of nectar, she felt the awful ache begin to ease. She sagged in relief as he continued to suck and swallow…suck and swallow until her right breast felt pain-free and almost normal again, though it still appeared a little larger than it had been before the needing.

Lizabeth wondered if her breasts had grown a cup size from being so full for so long. Was she going to be a permanent D now?

But these thoughts barely flitted across her mind before they were overtaken by a much more overwhelming need. Now that the ache in her breasts had begun to subside, the emptiness in her pussy had grown much worse. She squirmed, squeezing her thighs together tightly as Lone switched to the left nipple and began to suck. God, this stupid needing was horrible! Once one craving was satisfied, another started.

Just ignore it, she told herself firmly. Who knows what he might feel he has to do if you let him know about that particular symptom?

She had a brief mental image of her assistant between her thighs, his long, thick shaft buried deep in her pussy as he filled her with his cock and his cum to help ease the emptiness inside.

The mental picture sent a shock of pure lust and longing through her entire body but she pushed it quickly away. As bad as what they were doing now was, letting him fuck her would be so much worse. There was no way they were going there—no way in hell!

At last Lone seemed to be satisfied that her breasts were properly drained. He sat back and released her arms, looking at her warily.

“Slap me now, if you want,” he said in a low voice. “Or hurt me in some other way. I should not have taken you against your will but it was the only way to ease your pain, Mistress.”

“Don’t call me that,” Lizabeth snapped.

She was still angry and breathing hard, her pussy throbbing with emptiness and need. The feeling of his hot mouth on her nipples had done more than ease the pain in her breasts—it had made her wet and hot and slippery between her thighs when she knew she shouldn’t feel that way at all.

“I ought to slap you,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him.

He leaned closer, presenting his face.

“Go on—I won’t try to stop you.”

“Stop it. Just…stop it!” Lizabeth pushed him away, so filled with conflicting emotions she didn’t know what she was thinking or feeling. “You’ve never acted like that before,” she said, her voice coming out shaky and uncertain. “I don’t…don’t understand what’s gotten into you, Lone.”

“The need to make sure you are safe and unharmed,” he said at once. “Of course, I would be lying if I said I didn’t desire you, too, Mistress. But I swear to you, my first motive in sucking your breasts was your safety. And I’ll tell you something else…” He gave her a level gaze. “I’ll do it again. If I see that you’re in need and you’re not asking me for help, I’ll help you just the same.”

“As apologies go, that’s not much of one,” Lizabeth snapped, frowning. “What if I start having other kinds of need? I know there are several different ways the needing can manifest—you know it too. What are you going to do if I start…start craving male seed, for instance?”

That was one of the ways the needing had manifested in some women, she knew, though she didn’t know why she was bringing it up now.

“Then I’ll give you my seed,” Lone said, implacably.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Lizabeth said, glaring at him. “You’d like it if I had to beg to suck your cock.”

He winced and looked away.

“I won’t deny I’ve fantasized about many scenarios with you, Lizabeth,” he said in a low voice. “What I never fantasized about was doing what I just did—holding you down and taking you against your will.” He looked at her more directly. “I don’t want to force you. But I can’t stand to see you in pain or let you hurt yourself either. And if you develop the thirst, I’ll help you slake it.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Unless you want to try and find some other male here who’s willing to allow you to—”

“No,” Lizabeth said abruptly. “No, of course not.”

The idea of doing that with one of the hairy, bearded guards made her stomach turn. But she wasn’t done with Lone yet—she was still too angry and confused.

“What about the other symptoms the Xi-46 compound I was exposed to can cause?” she demanded relentlessly. “I know some women need…need to be, uh, tasted…” Her words died off in embarrassment at the end but Lone didn’t seem in the least perturbed.

“Didn’t I just prove during the oath-taking ceremony that I’ll be more than happy to do that for you?” His eyes were suddenly half-lidded and his voice was a low, hungry growl. “Gods, Lizabeth, I’ve dreamed of tasting you for years. Your pussy is so sweet and soft and wet… Giving you the kiss of obeisance was one of the greatest pleasures of my life.”

“It…it was?” She stared at him uncertainly. Was he for real? Had her assistant really been fantasizing about her for the whole time they’d been together? It seemed impossible and yet he appeared to be sincere.

“Yes,” Lone said simply, his eyes so dark they looked almost black. “It was.”

For a moment Lizabeth had another flash—a mental imagine of the big Kindred between her thighs but this time he was doing much more than kissing. This time he was lapping her open pussy with his tongue, tasting her completely…taking his time as he made her come again and again…

No! Can’t think that way—can’t let myself go there! It only makes the needing worse.

Getting off the bed, she pulled her black vest closed again and began to pace.

“So you’re saying you’ll do whatever it takes—give me whatever you think my body needs—whether I want you to or not?” she asked Lone, trying to regain her footing—trying to hold on to her anger.

Lone rose and sat on the edge of the bed, watching her pace. Slowly, he nodded. “Whatever it takes.”

“And what if I have the emptiness inside?” she demanded, even as her pussy throbbed with need. She didn’t know why she was pushing so hard—maybe she was trying to goad him in some way. To make him give her what she didn’t want to ask for—what she couldn’t ask for. “What then?” she demanded. “Will you hold me down and…and fuck me? Even if I beg you not to?”

“Lizabeth, please.” He winced again and she saw the Light Twin side of him once more, looking more unhappy than she could ever remember seeing him. Still, she couldn’t let up.

“Well? It’s a legitimate question since you seem to think you know what’s best for my body better than I do,” she snapped.

“I never said that,” Lone said in a low voice. “I said I wouldn’t let you hurt yourself—that I couldn’t stand to see you in pain.” He looked up, his eyes sharp. “Are you in pain right now, Lizabeth? I know the emptiness—the need to be filled—often comes along with the fullness of the breasts. Are you feeling it now?”

“Of course not!” she denied quickly, pressing her thighs together. “I…I was just asking what you would do if…if I was.”

“I wouldn’t rape you, if that’s what you’re asking.” Lone’s voice grew harsh. “But I would find a way to help you.”

“But how else could you help me? Other than…than penetrating me?” Lizabeth honestly couldn’t believe she was saying this. It seemed like the need inside her drove her to it. The deep, aching emptiness that felt like a black hole had opened inside her body and was demanding to be filled.

“That’s not to say the penetration has to be done with my shaft,” Lone pointed out. “In fact, if it would make you feel better, I will swear to you here and now that I will not enter you with my shaft—no matter how badly you seem to need it—unless you ask me to. I’ll find another way to do what has to be done.”

“You…” Lizabeth bit her lip, a mixture of disappointment and relief flooding her. “You’d promise me that?”

“I’ll do more than promise—I’ll swear it.” Lone came over to her. Taking her hands in his, he looked down at her earnestly. “I swear to you now, on my honor as a warrior, that my shaft shall not enter you in any way unless you ask for it, Mistress,” he said softly. “That is my oath from me to you. If I break it, may the Goddess strike me dead.”

Lizabeth wasn’t sure what to say. His big hands were cupped around hers and his big body was so close she could smell the warm, spicy scent of his skin. Or was that his bonding scent? She had wondered once before if he could even make a bonding scent, being a Twin Kindred without a twin. But it seemed almost as though he had both halves inside him—the Dark Twin and the Light. Would it be possible for Lone to bond with a female after all? To bond with…her?

She pushed the idea away. That was crazy talk—a ridiculous idea. As if someone his age would want to bond with someone her age. He claimed to have fantasized about her but doubtless it was just a youthful infatuation. Just as it had proved to be with Arturo…

Inwardly she winced and shied away from the memory.

“We should get ready,” she said, pulling away from Lone and wrapping her arms around herself. “I…I need to see if there’s any way I can get some new clothes. These are ruined.” She looked down at the damp cape-vest and the white gown, stained with amber streaks. “There’s no way I can go out in them.”

“I’ll get you some new things,” Lone promised at once. “Why don’t you take a bath and try to relax before Last Meal?”

Lizabeth sighed. “A bath does sound nice,” she admitted. “But you don’t have to get the clothes for me—I can manage myself.”

“Why should you, when I’m here to serve you, Mistress?” Lone asked simply.

“You don’t have to call me that in private or serve me all the time either,” Lizabeth told him, frowning.

“But I want to.” He looked at her longingly and she had the feeling he wanted to take her hands in his again but didn’t think she’d allow it. “I want to serve you in every way, Lizabeth,” he said in a low voice. “Did you think I was pretending when I took that oath in the ceremony just now?” He leaned closer, holding her eyes with his own. “I…meant…every…word,” he said softly.

“Oh…” Lizabeth wasn’t sure what to do…what to say. His gray eyes were so intense and somehow it seemed she couldn’t look away from them. “Lone…” she began, but then found she couldn’t go on. She literally had no words for the emotions swirling inside her.

“Take a bath and relax,” he murmured, taking a step back. “I’ll go tend to getting you new clothes.”

Then he turned and left the bedchamber, leaving Lizabeth feeling breathless and uncertain and completely confused about this new manifestation of her assistant. Where had the old Lone gone? And did she really want him back?

* * * * *

Lone wasn’t sure what had gotten into him. He should never have taken the liberties he had taken—should never have held Lizabeth down and sucked her breasts when she told him not to.

But I had to, a dark voice spoke up inside him. The half of him he usually kept buried—the half that seemed to be coming to the surface now on this savage world. It was the dark half of him that had allowed him to face down the Friezens—but it was also the part of him that had prompted him to hold Lizabeth down and do what had to be done forcibly.

Sometimes Lone wondered about himself. Would he have been the Dark Twin of his pair, or the Light? It wasn’t always certain at birth. Often a pair of Twin Kindred were months old before they could be identified as one or the other. For years he had felt that he would have been the Light Twin if his long-dead brother had lived. Now…he wasn’t so sure.

Shouldn’t have done it, he thought again. But I would do it again. Will do it again if I have to—I can’t let her hurt herself just because she doesn’t want to accept my help for some reason.

But what could that reason be? Why was she so stubborn about letting him help her when her breasts filled and the needing came on her? Lone didn’t know and he hadn’t been able to get an answer out of her. He had an idea that Lizabeth didn’t know herself why she was so reluctant to ask for help. But she had certainly been angry with him for giving her help she hadn’t asked for.

Lone sighed wistfully. Did she hate him now, for doing what he had done? He certainly hoped not because it seemed extremely likely he would have to do it again. Even now he had the idea that Lizabeth might still be in pain. When he had asked her if she felt the emptiness, she had denied it a little too quickly, he thought. She might be feeling the emptiness at this moment, which Lone had heard females who had been affected by the Xi-46 compound describe as devastatingly painful.

But after what he had promised her, how could he help with that particular problem? How—

“Oh, hello lad! Tis good to see you again, yuh it is.”

Lone looked up and saw that the friendly voice belonged to Joren, Mistress Anarrah’s Novice and apparently also her long-time lover. The older warrior had several swathes of dark fabrics draped over one arm and a smile on his face.

“Hello,” Lone said, nodding.

“I heard you preformed well at the ceremony of oath taking.” Joren nodded his shaggy head approvingly. “My Lady seems to think the two of you are a true love match—that you’re with your lady for more than just advancement or any kind of personal gain.”

“I am completely devoted to Lizabeth,” Lone said honestly. “To tell you the truth, I have loved her since I first laid eyes on her. She is the only female for me.”

“As it should be, as it should be.” Joren nodded again. “So what are you doing wandering about the Tower only an hour before dinner time? Are you looking for something for your lady?”

Lone smiled. “You guessed it. My lady has…a spot on her clothing. I need a new robe and vest for her.”

“As it happens, I was just coming to bring both you and your lady the garments you must wear at the banquet tonight,” Joren said. “So I’ll save you the trip. Here.” He held out the garments he’d been carrying, draping them carefully over Lone’s arm.

“Thank you,” Lone said gratefully. “I thought I’d have to find my way back to the clothing room by the cleansing pools and this castle seems to be something of a maze.”

“The Tower can be complicated to learn because the bits that were hollowed out by the hot springs don’t really go the way you’d think,” Joren said, wisely. “But you’ll get it soon. And in the meantime, my Lady Anarrah has asked that I help you and your lady in the little things—like getting fresh garments.” He gestured at the clothes draped over Lone’s arm. “There’s sleepwear for both you and your lady in there as well as fresh clothes for the morrow. And I believe that the undermaids have already stocked your room with bathing items. But is there anything we forgot? Anything you need?”

Lone started to say that no, everything was perfect and they had everything they needed but then he stopped.

“Actually, there is one other item I need in order to care for my lady,” he said to Joren. “It might sound rather unconventional though…” He hesitated.

Joren laughed. “Unconventional doesn’t bother us here at the Tower, lad. Just tell me what you need and I’ll find it for your lady.”

“Thank you,” Lone said gratefully. “In that case what I need is…” He explained to Joren and the other man nodded.

“Oh yes—we have those. In fact, we have a selection to choose from. If you’d like to follow me, I think we have enough time to get what you need before you and your lady must get dressed for the banquet.”

“Wonderful.” Lone nodded again. “Lead the way.”

He was grateful to have found a solution to his problem—he hoped, anyway.

Chapter Eleven

“Oh, my dear—it’s so good to meet you. I understand you’re the new Initiate to the Mistress of the Law?”

A pretty, plump woman who looked to be about fifty leaned across the small table at her side to speak to Lizabeth.

“Um, yes—yes, I am.” Lizabeth smiled and tried not to look too closely at what was going on around her. But averting her eyes didn't help—she could still hear the sounds.

In her nervousness, she had to fight the urge to adjust her banquet gown. It was too revealing, she thought, looking down at herself. In fact, when Lone had first brought it to her and told her it was what she would be wearing at dinner that night, she almost hadn’t believed him. The new outfit didn’t have cutouts for the nipples or a high slit which showed her pussy, but it still wasn’t much of an improvement seeing that it was made almost entirely out of thin, stretchy, black mesh.

Lizabeth thought she had never felt so exposed—her breasts and sex could be seen clearly through the see-through black dress and the slinky material clung to her like a second skin. If she hadn’t taken a bath in the firming waters of the cleansing pools, she might have refused to wear it at all. But thank goodness everything that had been sagging before was in good shape now. Even her breasts looked perky and her nipples, which were still tight and sensitive from the way Lone had sucked them, poked out almost obscenely, tenting the thin material provocatively.

There were no shoes to go with the dress since apparently everyone went barefoot here. The flagstones were uniformly heated and comfortable and they were kept scrupulously clean by the army of undermaids Lizabeth had seen scurrying here and there when they were being shown to their room. So at least she didn’t have any stilt-like heels to contend with, but the dress itself was bad enough without them.

She’d been extremely reluctant to wear such an outfit in public but if everyone else at the banquet was going to be dressed the same, what else could she do? To start with, though, she hadn’t even wanted to wear it out of the bathroom, where she had put it on.

She knew that Lone was waiting for her, also dressed in his banquet clothes, whatever they might be, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about him seeing her like this. Mostly because she still wasn’t sure how she felt about him period. Part of her was still angry with him…but part of her couldn’t forget the hot feeling of his mouth on her breasts.

Lone’s eyes had widened and he had given a long, low whistle when she’d finally gotten up the nerve to emerge from the bathroom with the outfit on.

“You look stunning, Mistress,” he’d murmured, looking her up and down. “Absolutely beautiful.”

“Absolutely exposed, you mean,” Lizabeth had said, frowning.

Lone shrugged. “I suppose. Would you rather I not look at you? It’s going to be difficult but I’ll try if you’d rather I didn’t look.”

Lizabeth sighed. “No, I…I suppose it doesn’t matter. Not after…” She cleared her throat. “It would be ridiculous for you to be constantly averting your eyes because I’m forced to dress like some kind of a courtesan here.”

“I’m dressed rather provocatively too,” Lone pointed out. “My evening vest isn’t that much different from the one I had on before. But I believe my trousers have the same kind of mesh your dress is made of.”

Indeed, the legs of his tight, black, low-slung trousers were made of some kind of leather material. But when Lizabeth allowed her eyes to stray to the crotch, she felt her cheeks beginning to heat. The same black mesh which made up her dress had been made into a kind of pouch in the front of the black trousers. But clearly, it had been made with a male who had less impressive proportions than Lone’s in mind. The mesh was stretched to the limit, even though the big Kindred’s shaft was only half hard.

“The trousers…um, don’t look big enough,” she said, dragging her eyes away.

“I assure you, they fit much better before you came out of the fresher wearing that,” he murmured, nodding at her dress.

Lizabeth blushed and then lifted her chin, trying to get past the embarrassment.

“I guess we’re in for an eventful night,” she said, keeping her voice calm and even.

“It wouldn’t surprise me in the least,” Lone said. “I was given directions to the banquet hall so if you’d take my arm, my Lady?”

He made his words a question, leaning towards her with his muscular arm held out to her.

For a moment Lizabeth had hesitated. Did she want to take his arm? Had she forgiven him for sucking her nipples when she’d told him not to?

Not completely, she admitted to herself. But the fact was that no matter how angry he had made her, she was no longer in pain. Well, not from her breasts, anyway. She was still throbbing between her thighs, the emptiness difficult to bear. The ache in her pussy to be filled was almost overwhelming but she’d be damned if she let him know that, she told herself.

At last she took his arm and let him lead her from the room. They hadn’t made much conversation until they had entered the banquet hall and had been taken to their seats by one of the guards.

The seating arrangements were bizarre to say the least. Most of the Mistresses sat on strange wooden benches with a large portion of the bottom cut out. Lizabeth could see that the bottom was cut out because most of them had their legs spread to expose themselves to their Novices, who were lying flat on their backs under the wooden benches with their heads propped up at just the right angle to…

“Oh my God, are the Novices licking them?” Lizabeth stared at the scene in disbelief. The Mistresses were arranged in a large circle. All but a few of them were sitting on the benches with their Novices below them, licking away industriously, their loud lapping clearly audible in the echoing chamber.

And that was when the pretty, plump blonde Mistress leaned over to introduce herself while Lizabeth was trying to adjust her dress.

“You must be Mistress Paige,” she said, smiling in a friendly way, as though her large, burly novice wasn’t situated directly below her lapping at her pussy.

“I…I…yes, I am.” Lizabeth told herself to get a grip. She had been to many different countries and dealt with many different customs. This was just another one, she told herself—a bizarre one, true, but she didn’t want to offend anyone so she would just act like it was no big deal.

“I’m Mistress Gettsum—I’m here to study art—specifically the Abisonial Period,” the blonde mistress said, smiling. She motioned to Lizabeth. “Well, go on my dear—you and your Novice get situated so you can have something to eat. If you came here on the train today you must be starving.” She used a set of three long, thin metal skewers which were bound together at one end to scoop up something that writhed and wiggled and dumped it into a gently bubbling pot on the table beside her.

“Um…uh…” Despite her determination not to give offense, Lizabeth found she couldn’t quite reconcile herself to the idea of basically sitting on her assistant’s face while she ate with a bunch of strangers.

“What is it, my dear? What’s wrong?” Mistress Gettsum inquired, clearly seeing the uncertain look on Lizabeth’s face.

“I just…have never seen this type of…of seating arrangement before,” Lizabeth said carefully.

“What, you’ve never seen a queening bench?” Mistress Gettsum looked surprised. “You must not be from Yonnie Six.”

“No, I’m not,” Lizabeth said shortly. “And this, uh, queening bench, well…it doesn’t look like it will be very…uh comfortable.”

“Well that depends on how good your Novice is with his tongue.” Mistress Gettsum giggled. “My Oglethorpe is a positive magician with his. He keeps me uncomfortable in the best way.” She reached down casually and stroked the thick shock of dark brown hair that was all she could reach of her Novice. In return, he seemed to redouble his efforts until Mistress Gettsum threw back her head and moaned.

“But…well…” Lizabeth stammered, stalling for time.

“It’s all right, Mistress,” Lone said in a low voice and when she looked up at him, she could see the desire in his half-lidded gray eyes.

“Lone,” she protested. “Surely you don’t mean—”

“I don’t mind,” he growled softly. “It will be my pleasure to service you with my tongue while you dine tonight.”

“Well, I mind,” Lizabeth whispered. “Can I get a different kind of chair?” she asked Mistress Gettsum who was still moaning happily. “I mean surely there must be some other kind of seating arrangement here.”

“Um, what?” The blonde mistress seemed to come back to herself reluctantly. “You want a rocking chair instead?”

“Yes—yes, that would be fine.” Eating what appeared to be some kind of living fondue while sitting in a rocking chair might be kind of awkward but it was bound to beat the weirdly erotic queening bench, Lizabeth thought desperately.

“Guard?” Mistress Gettsum called and snapped her fingers.

At once one of the bearded guards approached them.

“Yes, My Lady Gettsum?” he asked respectfully.

“Our new Mistress here doesn’t wish to use the queening bench tonight,” Mistress Gettsum said and then gasped. “Oh—Oglethorpe, you naughty boy! Wait, I’m trying to talk!” she exclaimed and then turned her attention back to the guard. “Will you please get her Novice strapped into a rocking chair so she can begin dinner before it all crawls off her plate?”

She nodded down at the plate opposite her own which was presumably Lizabeth’s. Sure enough, most of the things on the plate seemed to be writhing, which made Lizabeth’s stomach churn.

“Yes, at once, my Lady.” The guard bowed and motioned to two more guards behind him. “Move the bench and bring in a chair—now,” he ordered.

They saluted hastily and while one of them moved the strange wooden bench out of the way, another brought what appeared to be the frame of a large rocking chair. But only the frame, Lizabeth noticed, frowning. There was no back and no seat—how the hell was she supposed to sit in that?

“Here you are Mistress,” the first guard said to her respectfully. “If your Novice will just come forward, we can get him fitted so you can have your meal.”

“What does my Novice have to do with it?” Lizabeth protested but another guard was already leading Lone to the rocking chair frame.

“Have you ever been in a service chair before?” he asked Lone, who shook his head. “Well, it’s not too difficult and it’ll help you please your lady all night—provided you can hold out that long,” the guard told him. “You just get settled right in here…”

He sat Lone down in the frame—which was padded at least—and positioned a small, molded seat under him which attached to both sides of the chair frame and had a strange wheel and cog kind of mechanism attached to the bottom of it. Before Lizabeth could protest, he had strapped Lone in place.

The big Kindred was a little large for the chair, but he fit well enough that she could see the point—Lone himself was the seat and back of the chair. He was placed at such an angle that she would be sitting directly on his lap when she sat on the chair.

The guard stood back to admire his handiwork.

“Looks good,” he said, nodding. “Try rocking some,” he told Lone.

Lone shifted and the mechanism beneath the small molded seat he was sitting on made a whirring sound. When the chair rocked, his pelvis also moved, his mesh-covered shaft thrusting up erotically and then back down again when the chair moved back to its starting position.

Oh my God, Lizabeth thought blankly. That’s not a rocking chair—it’s a fucking chair! What the hell?

“There you go, Mistress,” the first guard said, nodding. “You can have a seat and get started with dinner.”

“Um…thank you,” Lizabeth muttered. She wasn’t sure what to do. Should she really sit on Lone’s lap in such a suggestive position? Both of them only had thin mesh covering their private areas. Even if she tried to be careful, there was bound to be some intimate rubbing going on.

As she stood there, indecisive, the Mistress Superior’s voice rang out.

“Well, Mistress Paige? Is there a problem?”

Lizabeth’s head jerked up and she saw that Mistress Verlandah was watching her narrowly from across the circle, where she sat on a very throne-like queening bench. Karx was beneath her, his bushy beard thrust up as he lapped her pussy vigorously. She was holding a long-handled instrument with short leather fronds attached to the end and every once in a while she leaned back and swatted Karx’s mesh-covered manhood with it. Whether this was meant as a punishment or a reward, Lizabeth couldn't tell.

“I…no, nothing, Mistress Superior,” she said quickly. “I just…have not used this kind of, uh, seat before.”

“Well if you prefer to try the rocker rather than the queening bench, that’s your affair.” Mistress Verlandah sniffed. “Personally, I prefer being licked during dinner. I find getting fucked a bit too distracting when one is eating Yandaloo hotpot. But maybe you’re better at multitasking than the rest of us.” She laughed and some of the other Mistresses tittered as well.

“I…um…” Lizabeth told her brain to think of a proper reply and came up blank. She had been in many courtroom situations where the case was won or lost on the quickness of her wits and the sharpness of her arguments and she rarely lost. But now, in this bizarre situation, she found she had nothing to say for herself. It was maddening.

“I can only assume that your choice of the rocker over the queening bench means that your Novice isn’t much good with his tongue,” Mistress Verlandah remarked disapprovingly.

“That’s not true,” Lizabeth said, finding her voice at last. “Lone is…is excellent with his tongue.” Abruptly she remembered the soft, reverent way he had kissed her during the oath-taking ceremony—kissing her pussy as he would have kissed her mouth. The way he had pressed forward to taste her…the gentle brush of his tongue against her throbbing clit…

God, she had to stop thinking like this! The memory made her pussy ache, the needing inside her growing exponentially.

“We’ll see about that later,” the Mistress Superior, said frowning. “But since you’ve chosen his cock over his tongue, you’d better get seated. It’s very distracting for the rest of us to have someone standing around in the middle of the dining circle while we’re trying to enjoy our meal.” She frowned at Lizabeth. “Unless there’s some reason why you don’t want to enjoy intimate contact with your Novice while you eat?”

“Um, no. No, of course not,” Lizabeth said quickly. “I just…I’m about to get seated.”

Feeling trapped, she looked back at Lone who shrugged his shoulders. He was strapped into the chair with broad leather bands around his calves and thighs and she couldn’t immediately see how to get them unfastened. If she could have, she would have released him and made some kind of excuse about being too tired and needing to rest.

But Mistress Verlandah was still watching her with narrowed eyes, clearly wondering what was going on and why Lizabeth was hesitating. She remembered what a big deal both the Mistress Superior and Mistress Anarrah had made about she and Lone being a “love match” and how they had intimated that Mistresses and Novices who weren’t so well matched were summarily dismissed from the Tower.

An unhappy realization came to her—God, I don’t think there’s any way out of this. Not if we don’t want to get kicked out.

She took a step closer to Lone, looking down at him uncertainly. There was no denying that the shaft that was barely contained in the black mesh pouch in his trousers was extremely large, and he was more than half hard already. Was she really going to sit on that? Her pussy tightened hungrily at the thought as the needing twisted inside her but Lizabeth pushed the intense desire away from her. She wasn’t going to go there—she couldn’t.

Lone seemed to sense her uncertainty and indecision.

“It’s all right, Mistress,” he murmured, pitching his voice low so that only she could hear him. “Remember my promise to you.”

Lizabeth knew he was talking about the oath he had sworn that his shaft wouldn’t enter her unless she asked for it.

And really, there’s no actual danger of that happening—not even by accident, she told herself. The mesh might be thin but it was still in the way. So it might be embarrassingly intimate but there was no chance of any actual penetration.

Feeling somewhat reassured, Lizabeth lowered herself cautiously onto the big Kindred’s lap. At first she tried to balance on his knees but that nearly tipped the chair over. With a little gasp, she was forced to throw herself backward to stabilize the weird rocking chair.

“Are you all right, Mistress?” Lone asked in her ear. He wrapped his arms around her, bracing her comfortingly against him.

“Fine, I think.” Lizabeth’s heart was still pounding from the near upset. She leaned back against Lone, one hand pressed to her chest. “Are you all right, though?"” she asked him in a low voice. “I feel like I’m, er, crushing you.”

His laughter was a deep rumble that seemed to vibrate her entire body.

“I’m not quite as delicate as the human males you may be used to, Lizabeth,” he murmured in her ear. “I’m much bigger than you—how do you think you could crush me with your sweet, curvy body?”

“I’m just not…as thin as I used to be,” Lizabeth muttered.

“I’m glad. Didn’t I tell you, you’re an Elite?” Lone returned. “I honestly don’t understand the human obsession with females being stick-thin, but it must be deeply ingrained by your society to bother you so much.”

“I suppose it is.” Lizabeth sighed. “Well, thank you for being so nice about this. I know it’s kind of weird, you being my chair for the night.”

“I don’t mind in the least. Although I wouldn’t have minded the other seating arrangements either.” His voice was a deep, hungry growl and she could feel his thick shaft throbbing against her behind as he spoke.

Lizabeth glanced back at him wonderingly.

“You’re serious? You really like, uh, orally pleasuring a woman that much?”

“All Kindred do,” Lone said seriously. “And it’s not just a preference—it’s a biological need. It helps a Kindred warrior to bond his female to him for life.”

Talking about life-long bonds with her much-too-young assistant made Lizabeth feel distinctly nervous.

“Um, I guess I’d better see what’s for supper,” she said, shifting on his lap. “I…oh!”

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Lone asked, obviously concerned at her tone.

“I…I think…it feels like…like the mesh between us isn’t, uh, isn’t between us anymore,” Lizabeth said, frowning. But that couldn’t be right, could it?

Looking down at her lap she parted her legs and tried to see what was going on. But since Lone’s long, thick shaft had settled itself against her ass, it was difficult to see anything.

“Lone,” she muttered. “What’s going on—can you see?”

“Lean forward just a little,” he murmured back.

Lizabeth did and heard him make a noise of surprise.

“What is it?” she whispered, leaning back again.

“It’s very strange. I thought that the mesh over my crotch seemed less constricting as soon as you sat down on me,” he said in a low voice. “And it is—because somehow it has disappeared.”

“And my dress?” Lizabeth asked, feeling slightly panicky.

“There’s a hole in it,” Lone admitted. “It almost looks as though part of it simply…melted away. The part where you’re in contact with me.”

“Oh my God!” Lizabeth wanted to get off his lap at once but how would that look? If she suddenly abandoned her “chair” both she and Lone would be exposed.

“Is there some other problem, my dear?” Mistress Gettsum asked helpfully.

“I just…” Lizabeth shook her head. “The mesh of my dress…it’s…it’s…gone.”

“Oh, is it your first time wearing charged clothing?” The blonde mistress smiled.

“Charged clothing?” Lizabeth said blankly. “What do you mean?”

“Oglethorpe can explain,” Mistress Gettsum said. “He sometimes takes lessons with the Physics Mistress. Ogie—stop licking for a minute and explain charged clothing to Mistress Lizabeth,” she said to her Novice. She sat back helpfully on the queening bench so that he could speak and Lizabeth was able to see his face—brown eyes, a large nose, and a mouth that was shiny with his mistress’s honey. To her surprise, he looked a good twenty years younger that Mistress Gettsum.

“Charged clothing is made of fabric which is positively or negatively charged with electrons,” he began, speaking as though he were a professor lecturing from a podium rather than lying under the queening bench beneath his mistress. “Both the dress of the mistress and the trousers of the Novice have the same charges. When the two of them come into contact, the like charges repel each other and the mesh panels are forced apart, exposing bare skin. Once contact is broken, the natural charges of the garments stabilize and the mesh panels will close.”

“Isn’t he smart?” Mistress Gettsum cooed. “Thank you, Ogie—you can go back to licking me now.”

“Yes, Mistress—with pleasure.” The Novice’s voice, which had sounded dry and scholarly only a moment before, was now charged with lust. When Mistress Gettsum scooted forward again and pressed her pussy down against his face, he went back to lapping with evident enjoyment—if the grunts of pleasure Lizabeth heard coming from the other mistress’s bench were any indication, anyway.

“Thank you for…for explaining,” she said faintly. “I, um, understand now.”

“Charged clothing can take a bit of time to get used to but it’s really mutually beneficial to both mistress and Novice,” the other mistress remarked. “Mmm, oh Ogie!”

Since this last was clearly not intended for her, Lizabeth felt free to ignore it. She had more important things to worry about anyway. Such as the way Lone’s long, thick shaft was currently branding her ass and lower back. God, he must be truly huge. Her pussy throbbed hungrily at the idea of being filled with his thickness and she shifted uneasily, wishing for the hundredth time that the needing would just go away and leave her alone.

“Are you all right, Mistress?” Lone murmured in her ear. “I am sorry about the, uh, situation. I swear that Joren didn’t tell me these were charged garments when he gave them to me.”

“I believe you.” Lizabeth cleared her throat. “It’s kind of…awkward. With you being…being hard, I mean.”

“I apologize for that,” he said sincerely. “But I can’t stop my body from reacting to yours, Lizabeth. You’re so beautiful and having you pressed against me makes my shaft hard. I swear I’m not doing it on purpose.”

“I believe you,” she said again. “Um…maybe we’d better just get on with dinner.

“Of course, Mistress,” Lone murmured. He released her and moved his arms back to the arms of the rocking chair so that she could get to the small table to her left which she was sharing with Mistress Gettsum.

Trying to ignore the feeling of his long, thick shaft pressing against her ass, Lizabeth turned her attention to dinner. There was a pot of boiling liquid in the center of the table and a silver plate filled with writhing orange and purple…things. They weren’t quite worms, Lizabeth thought—more like little blobs. Like large, living, brightly-colored boogers. Ugh!

“Have you ever had Yandaloo hotpot before?” Mistress Gettsum asked from across the table.

“Um, no—no I haven’t.” Lizabeth tried to laugh but the sound came out squeezed and tight. “I guess tonight is a night of firsts for me.”

“Good firsts, I hope,” Mistress Gettsum said, smiling. “Here—I’ll show you how to do it. Just pick up your prongie…” She demonstrated by picking up the three thin, metal sticks which were attached at one end. “And grab one of the snarfels with it…” Using her thumb, forefinger and ring finger to control the metal tines of the prongie, she grabbed a writhing orange blob about the size of a golf ball and dropped it into the bubbling pot between them. “And then you just wait, you know—until the snarfel drowns,” she said brightly. “It only takes a few seconds. Then you fish it out and finish it off.” She suited actions to words, fishing out the orange snarfel which had turned bright red now, blowing on it for a moment, and then popping it into her mouth. She chewed enthusiastically. “Delicious!”

“I…I see,” Lizabeth said faintly. Suddenly she thought of a way she might get out of eating the hideous meal. “Um…this is a really interesting dinner but I’m afraid I’m vegetarian,” she said, smiling apologetically. I don’t eat meat of any kind,” she added, at Mistress Gettsum’s confused look.

“Oh, I see! Guard!” Mistress Gettsum called, motioning for the same guard who had set up the rocking chair.

“Yes, Mistress?” He came in a hurry, looking concerned.

“Mistress Paige here is unable to eat flesh of any kind,” Mistress Gettsum declared. “Please be so kind as to bring her plant-based meal items to boil in the Yandaloo broth.”

“At once, Mistress! Apologies for my ignorance about your food preferences.” The guard bowed low and whisked the plate with writhing orange and purple blobs away.

“Thank you!” Lizabeth said, giving her table-mate a grateful smile. “You certainly do know how to manage things around here!”

“I should—I’ve been here eight cycles now.” Mistress Gettsum smiled. “I only came to study for a few days, you know but then I found that this place suited Oglethorpe and me so well. Back on Yonnie Six he’s my bodyslave and I have to make him wear a pain collar and pretend like we don’t have sex—which we do—a lot!” she added, giggling. “But here at the Tower he can be my Novice and we can do whatever we want and nobody cares. Isn’t that right, Ogie?”

“Yes, Mistress,” came the muffled reply from beneath her. And then her Novice resumed lapping, making her moan with pleasure for a moment. “But I notice you don’t seem to be enjoying yourself much,” she said to Lizabeth, frowning. “Do you even have your Novice’s shaft inside you? The rocking chair is useless otherwise.”

“Um, I…” Lizabeth wasn’t sure what to say. But she was saved from having to think up an excuse by the return of the guard.

He was carrying a silver plate which he presented to Lizabeth with a flourish.

“Here you are, Mistress! Pyrnig fungus from the deepest crevasses of the Sacred Mountain.”

“Oh…thank you,” Lizabeth said faintly. The things on the silver plate which he set before her were scarcely an improvement on the living boogers. They were dirty for one thing and oddly shaped for another. In fact, they looked like a cross between a mushroom and a ginger root that had been rolled in black dirt.

Still she couldn’t eat nothing at all—the Mistress Superior was still watching her and frowning. Lizabeth picked up one of the dirty, gnarled root-things and began trying to brush some of the dirt off of its crusty surface.

“Oh, no—don’t do that!” Mistress Gettsum exclaimed, seeing what Lizabeth was doing. “You mustn’t brush off the flavor! Just dunk it right in the pot—that’s how you eat Pyrnig fungus.”

“Oh, I…just didn’t want to get the, uh, broth dirty,” Lizabeth said faintly as she dropped the gnarled, dirty root into the bubbling pot.

“Don’t worry about that,” Mistress Gettsum said encouragingly. “It will only add to the delicious flavor of the Yandaloo broth. Now take it out before it gets too done!” she added, frowning. “You mustn’t overcook Pyrnig!”

“Oh, all right.” Quickly Lizabeth fished in the pot with the silver prongie. She finally managed to stab the lumpy root and bring it, dripping, up from the pot.

It was scarcely less dirty than when it had gone into the broth but now she could see its true color at least—an unappetizing mottled grayish-purple. Lizabeth reminded herself grimly that mushrooms were gray too and she loved those. What was this, after all, but a kind of alien mushroom? She should just eat it and get it over with.

Reluctantly, she brought the dripping root to her nose and took a whiff. A strong odor of rotten fish, ripe garbage, and the unmistakable scent of cow shit drifted up to her.

“Ugh!” she exclaimed involuntarily, pulling her face away.

“Oh yes, Pyrnig can have a rather pungent aroma,” Mistress Gettsum remarked, watching Lizabeth’s reaction. “That’s the twig-twig dung it’s grown in. But the flavor is spectacular.”

“Excuse me—dung? Did you say it’s grown in dung?” Lizabeth looked down at the dirt-streaked, lumpy root at the end of her prongie in disbelief. So that black stuff on it wasn’t dirt after all.

“Yes, of course!” Mistress Gettsum nodded eagerly. “It’s more than half the flavor—that’s why you don’t want to overcook it and wash it all off. Well, go on—take a bite and try it.”

She was watching closely and so, Lizabeth saw, were several other mistresses, including the Mistress Superior herself. Oh God, was she really going to have to do this? Was she going to have to put dung-covered alien fungus in her mouth?

I can’t, she thought, feeling sick even as she brought the Pyrnig closer to her mouth. Even if it means getting kicked out of here I just can’t do this!

But it looked like she had no choice.

Just as she was about to open her mouth, Lone wrapped his arms around her waist and thrust up against her, shaking her entire body so much that the silver prongie and the gnarled, dirty root it held were knocked from her hand and onto the floor.

“Oh!” Lizabeth gasped as he did it again…and then again.

“Oh my—your naughty Novice!” Mistress Gettsum giggled. “Did he choose that exact moment to start fucking you really hard? My Ogie likes to surprise me like that sometimes too.”

“I…he…” Seeing that everyone was still watching her and there was no better explanation, Lizabeth decided to go with it. “Yes,” she gasped. “Yes, he did. Oh!”

“Mistress,” Lone growled in her ear and thrust up against her again. As he spoke, he pulled her back into his lap so that she was sitting at more of an angle to him. The new position forced Lizabeth forward and opened her thighs. In short order she found that instead of just pressing against her ass, the thick base of his shaft was pressing against her bare pussy. She gave an involuntary moan as Lone thrust against her again and she felt his thickness part her pussy lips and rub against her throbbing clit.

“Oh!” she gasped. “Oh, Lone!”

“Don’t fight it, Lizabeth,” he murmured in her ear. “Just pretend you’re riding me. In a moment we can both ‘come’ and then you can dump all those things in the pot and pretend you ate them.”

It was a better plan than Lizabeth had been able to come up with. Though it was extremely embarrassing to simulate fucking her assistant in front of a roomful of strangers, it still beat eating the horrible Pyrnig fungus.

Not that she had to pretend about the pleasure he was giving her.

“Oh!” she moaned again as Lone thrust up again, his thickness sliding against her throbbing pussy, which was now spread wide so that she could feel every stroke of his long, hard cock against her sensitive clit. She ached with emptiness but there was a sudden fullness elsewhere. With an embarrassed gasp, she realized her breasts were filling with nectar again as the needing hit her full-force.

“Lone,” she managed to gasp. “My…my breasts…”

“Mistress?” he made the title a question but the next moment his big, warm hands found their way up to her full mounds, which were now pressing hard against the black mesh dress. He cupped her breasts, her aching nipples nestled in his palms as he thrust again. “The needing,” Lizabeth heard him mutter. “It’s on you, isn’t it?”

All she could do was moan. She wasn’t sure if having her pussy stimulated was the reason for the sudden attack or not—all she knew was that her breasts were full and aching and the emptiness inside her was almost unbearable.

Suddenly all the reasons she’d given herself for why she couldn’t fuck her assistant seemed to go straight out the window. She had never felt the emptiness this strongly—it felt like a black hole had opened inside her and she would die if it wasn’t filled—if her pussy wasn’t filled with his cock.

“Lone, please,” she managed to gasp as he continued to thrust against her, simulating long, slow strokes. “Can’t…can’t stand it. Need…need you inside me. Please.”

She had expected that he would jump at the chance to take her for real. He had sworn that he wouldn’t enter her with his shaft unless she asked him to and here she was, practically begging. But instead of taking advantage of her need, Lone stopped what he was doing and reached between them.

“Lone?” she managed to gasp. “What…what are you doing?”

“Freeing myself from this damn chair,” he growled and she heard the jingle of the metal buckles as he unstrapped himself. “You’re in need and I’ll be damned if I satisfy you for real in front of all these people.”

Before she could answer, Lone had risen from the chair, holding her cradled securely in his strong arms.

“And where exactly do you think you’re going?” Mistress Verlandah demanded, glaring up at him.

“I’m taking my Mistress back to our rooms,” Lone growled. “She needs deeper and more intimate attention than I can give her here.”

“But dinner isn’t over yet!” the Mistress Superior protested, frowning disapprovingly.

“Let them go, Verlandah,” Mistress Anarrah said, smiling from her place beside the Mistress Superior. “Isn’t it clear they’re in love and can’t get enough of each other?” She looked up at Lone. “I’ll send Joren to your rooms tomorrow morning to give you and your Mistress directions to my classroom.”

Lone nodded at her. “Thank you, Mistress.”

Then he carried Lizabeth out of the banquet hall and down the long stone corridor that led to their room.

Chapter Twelve

He’ll do it now—I’m sure he will, Lizabeth thought deliriously as Lone kicked the heavy wooden door closed and laid her down on the large, canopied bed. She knew they shouldn’t be doing this—knew they would be crossing a line both personally and professionally that they could never come back from. But somehow she couldn’t stop—the needing had never been this bad before. She felt like she was going to die if he didn’t fill her soon.

“Lone,” she begged brokenly, knowing she would hate herself later but unable to help herself. “Lone, please, I need you.”

He knelt over her on the bed but made no move to take her.

“No, you don’t. Or at least, you do need me but you don’t want me.”

“What?” Lizabeth’s thought process was blurry—clouded by lust. She looked up at him in confusion. “What…what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I’m going to keep my promise to you, Lizabeth,” he said grimly. Then he leaned over her and ripped open the black mesh dress, baring her overfull breasts.

“Lone!” she gasped, uncomprehending. “I don’t understand. I thought you said—”

“I meant everything I said,” he growled. “I’m going to give you what you need but I’m not going to put my shaft inside you. I won’t do that until you ask me to because you want me to—not just because the needing is on you.”

“But I need to be filled!” Lizabeth nearly begged. “Especially if…if you suck my breasts again. As the fullness gets less, the need to be…to be…”

“To be fucked?” Lone’s deep voice was harsh. “Does the need to be fucked become almost unbearable as I suck your sweet breasts, Mistress?”

“Yes.” Lizabeth couldn’t help the mixture of shame and need in her voice. “Yes, it…it does,” she confessed softly. “Please, Lone…”

“I’m going to give you what you need,” he promised her again. He reached under one of the large, puffy pillows on the bed and pulled something out that made Lizabeth gasp.

“What…how…” She couldn’t get the words out. What he was holding was a long, flexible black shaft. It was made of some shiny, metallic material and it looked like… “Is…is that a…?”

“It’s a phallus. I got it from Joren earlier,” he explained. “Apparently the Tower keeps a supply of new, never-used toys like this one in case a Novice’s shaft isn’t large enough to satisfy his Mistress’s needs.”

Lizabeth bit her lip. She knew for a fact that the long black shaft he held in his hand wasn’t nearly as big as the one between his legs. But he was prepared to use the fake phallus on her in order to keep her from feeling regret later. The realization of his truly unselfish wish to help her seemed to open something inside her.

“Lone,” she whispered, reaching for him. “Thank you for being so sweet. But please, I need…need you so much.”

“I told you, sweetheart—I’m going to give you everything you need,” he murmured, climbing onto the bed with her. “But I don’t want to hurt you. Spread your legs for me now—let me see how well this fits inside you.”

“All right,” Lizabeth whispered. The black mesh dress was in shreds and tatters from the way he had ripped it earlier so when she opened her thighs for him there was nothing in the way of the toy.

“Slowly,” Lone murmured. Wrapping one arm around her, he slid the shiny, bulbous head—which was surprisingly warm—against her inner pussy.

Lizabeth whimpered and spread wider. She shifted her hips upward, trying to capture the black shaft inside her entrance, desperate to feel its length filling her.

“Slowly,” Lone cautioned again. “I don’t want to hurt you, Lizabeth.”

She could have cried with impatience but he was holding her firmly against him and Lizabeth found she had no choice than to lie back in his arms and let him take his time penetrating her.

At last she felt the bulbous head slide into her pussy and then, still watching her closely for signs of distress, Lone began sliding the rest of the long, thick shaft inside her.

“All right?” he asked softly as he filled her. “Is it too thick, sweetheart? Your pussy looks extremely tight.”

“It’s big but it feels…feels good,” she whispered breathlessly. Though not as good as his own shaft would have felt, she was certain. There was a part of her that cried out for the real thing but she pushed it away ruthlessly.

“Going to push it deeper then—all the way inside you,” Lone murmured. “Going to fill you up, Lizabeth.”

“Please…” She nodded. “Yes, please…please, do!”

She moaned as inch after thick inch of the shiny black phallus entered her tightly-stretched pussy. God, it felt good! Finally her aching inner muscles had something to grip. She felt her channel contracting hard around the thick invader, trying to draw it even deeper into her.

“Gods, your little pussy is taking everything I give you.” Lone’s deep voice sounded thick with lust. “Have I ever told you how beautiful you are, Lizabeth? How incredibly fucking gorgeous I find you?”

“I…no,” she gasped.

“No, of course I haven’t—because that’s not the kind of relationship we have,” he murmured. “But it’s true. And I’ve wanted to tell you from the moment we met.”

“You…you have?” Lizabeth could barely believe him. Was he saying he’d been infatuated with her from the moment of their first meeting? Well, maybe he was just talking to keep her in the moment. But at this point with the needing so strong inside her, she hardly needed any encouragement to keep going.

Finally she felt the thick head of the phallus kiss the end of her channel, pressing hard against her as it stretched her inner walls.

“There you are, sweetheart,” Lone murmured, looking into her eyes. “All the way inside you now—deep in your tight little pussy.”

“I feel it. Oh Lone, that feels so good.” She bucked her hips up and moaned when the thick phallus pushed just a little deeper.

“I told you I’d give you what you need,” he murmured. “I had heard from several unmated females that the breast fullness often accompanies the emptiness. But I want you to know, Lizabeth—I’ll only do what’s necessary to help you ease the needing.”

“Meaning…what?” she asked breathlessly.

“Meaning that I’m happy to slide the phallus inside you so your little pussy has something to hold on to while I suck out your nectar,” Lone told her. “But I won’t fuck you with it, Lizabeth. Won’t thrust it in and out of your pussy and make you come unless you need me to.”

Lizabeth bit her lip. She appreciated that he was trying to let her keep her dignity as much as possible but at that moment, she wanted nothing so much as to be fucked within an inch of her life. Still, it would be less embarrassing to just lie there with the phallus inside her while Lone sucked her breasts, rather than gasping and moaning and riding the long black shaft while Lone fucked it in and out of her open pussy…

“Please,” she whispered. “My breasts…they hurt.”

“I know they do, Mistress,” Lone murmured. “Just relax—I’m going to take care of you.”

He lowered his head and captured one of her tight, aching nipples in his mouth and sucked long and hard.

Lizabeth gasped and arched upward, pressing her breasts to his mouth eagerly. This time she couldn’t deny her need or feel angry with Lone for giving her what she so desperately craved. Her body didn’t seem to know or care that he was her assistant and way too young for her. It only knew what it needed and right now Lone was giving it to her.

She could feel her inner pussy muscles gripping the long, hard shaft that filled her as Lone sucked her breasts. God, it felt good! And yet…somehow she needed more. Lizabeth shifted her hips restlessly, moving the phallus inside her. That was a little better, but it still wasn’t quite enough.

Lone must have heard the small, frustrated noises she was making because he stopped sucking for a moment and looked up at her, his gray eyes dilated with lust until the irises were barely a thin silver ring around the bottomless black pupils.

“What is it, Lizabeth?” he murmured. “What do you need?”

Lizabeth bit her lip with shame. God, it was so embarrassing to ask for this—to ask for more. But the needing drove her to it.

“Please,” she whispered. “I need…need more."

“What’s wrong?” he murmured, searching her eyes with his own. “Not enough for you? Do you need me to go deeper? Need me to thrust in your tight little pussy until you come for me? Is that what you need, Mistress?”

Lizabeth couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Yes!” she moaned, shifting her hips again. “God, yes Lone! Please.”

“All right,” he murmured, staring at her intently. “But on one condition—you have to look in my eyes while I do it. I want to watch you, Lizabeth—want to watch you while I fuck you with the shaft and make you come for me.”

His hot, naughty words took her completely off guard. Who would have thought her mild-mannered assistant had it in him to talk so dirty? Then again, the old Lone seemed to have been left behind on the Mother Ship. This new Lone was apparently up for anything—including fucking her to orgasm with a thick sex toy while he talked dirty to her.

“All…all right,” Lizabeth gasped, hardly believing she was agreeing to this. But God, she needed it so much.

“Good.” Lone settled her more comfortably in the crook of his arm and looked down into her face, his eyes filled with desire. “Gods, you’re lovely like this—all open and hot in my arms,” he murmured. “Love to touch you, Lizabeth. Love to give you pleasure, my Mistress.”

Lizabeth wasn’t sure how to answer that but just then he drew the thick phallus almost all the way out of her and then thrust in again—hard.

She gasped, her hips coming right off the bed as she opened herself for the deep penetration.

“That’s right, Lizabeth,” he murmured, his voice still thick with lust. “That’s right, sweetheart. Just open yourself for me—open up and let me fuck you.”

She moaned breathlessly again and did as he said, spreading her thighs wide as he worked her hard with the black phallus, looking into her eyes the whole time.

“So beautiful,” he murmured. “So fucking gorgeous I can’t stop looking at you, sweetheart. Look at how tight your little pussy is—look at how it’s all stretched around the phallus, so tight and hot and wet…”

“Oh, Lone,” she gasped, pressing up to meet his thrusts. “Can’t…can’t believe I’m letting you do this.”

“Why?” His voice was a soft growl. “You have a need and I’m helping you fill it. What’s so wrong with that?”

“You…you’re..” But Lizabeth couldn’t go on. She was too close to the edge—too close to one of the most intense orgasms of her life. “Lone,” she moaned again. “Oh, please…So close. I think I’m going to…going to…”

“That’s right, sweetheart,” he murmured hungrily as he continued to pump her pussy with the thick toy. “That’s right—come for me. Come right here in my arms while I fuck you. Gods, I’ve dreamed about making you come for so long…”

Suddenly it was too much. Lizabeth threw back her head and moaned as she felt her inner muscles tighten around the invading shaft. Lone pressed it deep inside her—all the way to the end of her channel and she couldn’t help wishing that it was his cock instead. She wondered what it would feel like to have him inside her, pressing in long and hard as he filled her up…spurting inside her, filling her with his seed…

The illicit fantasy seemed to make her orgasm even stronger. She cried out and gripped at Lone’s broad shoulders as the pleasure rolled through her, taking her breath away, making her helpless in his arms as he held her. It seemed to go on and on and on—a single sharp, sweet note that played through her entire body—until at last she collapsed, panting and spent.

Can’t believe I did that, she thought as some of the lust cleared from her mind and she was able to think again. That was so inappropriate! So wrong!

But it hadn’t felt wrong. It had felt incredible. Being held in Lone’s strong arms and letting him fuck her with the thick shaft had been one of the most erotic experiences of her life.

It shouldn’t have been though, she thought guiltily. What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I control myself? Is it just this damn needing that’s got me so tied up in knots or is it something else? Something more?

“How do you feel?” Lone’s deep voice drew her back to herself and she looked up to see him bending over her with a worried look in his eyes.

“I’m fine,” she said reflexively, looking away from him. “Better now. Thanks.”

“Don’t do that.” Lone said softly.

“Do what? What are you talking about?” Lizabeth tied to sit up but the damn phallus was still inside her. She reached down to pull it out, feeling a surge of shame as she did so. God, the way she had acted…

“Don’t act like you’re ashamed of what just happened.”

“It was…a regrettable necessity.” She sat up at last and put some distance between them. She could hear her voice becoming businesslike and impersonal again but she couldn’t seem to help it. “We, er, had to do it. But that doesn’t mean we have to dwell on it.”

“Yes we do. Lizabeth we need to talk about this,” he argued softly. “About the rolls we have to play here and the things we have to do. Especially since you continue to have needing attacks.”

“I’m sorry about that,” she said, looking away. “Sorry you have to uh, help me so much.”

“I’m not. Look at me.” His big hand cupped her chin and turned her face up to his. “I love helping you, Lizabeth,” he said softly. “I just wish you enjoyed being helped.”

“It seemed like I enjoyed myself quite a bit just now, didn’t it?” she said, hearing the clipped, brittle tone of her own voice and not being able to help it. “You had me writhing all over the bed while you sucked my breasts and pumped me with that…that thing.” She nodded down at the black phallus which lay discarded on the far side of the bed.

“I gave you what you needed,” Lone said, frowning. “Why is that such a problem for you?”

“For God’s sake, you’re my assistant, Lone,” she burst out. “It’s not appropriate for us to do…those things together.”

“Maybe not,” he said steadily. “But there’s not much we can do about it. Not while you keep having needing attacks and we’re expected to act as Mistress and Novice while we’re at the Tower.”

“What are you saying?” Lizabeth demanded. “That I should just…just deal with it? Just chalk it all up to necessity and not feel guilty at all?”

“Why should you feel guilty?” Lone’s voice was low and coaxing. “For getting what your body needs? For doing what you have to do in order for us to stay here so you can learn the Yonnite law? None of this is your fault, Lizabeth—why feel bad about it?”

“I…” Lizabeth bit her lip. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just worried that this will…will come back to haunt us once we get back to the Mother Ship.”

“What if I promised it wouldn’t?” he asked. “What if I swore to you that our relationship would go back to being completely professional as soon as we get home? Is that what you want?”

To be honest, it wasn’t exactly what Lizabeth wanted. But what she wanted—truly wanted in her heart of hearts—was completely impossible and she knew it from hard personal experience.

“I…guess so,” she said at last.

“Then it will,” Lone said. “While we’re here at the Tower I’ll call you Mistress and help you control your needing. But the minute we get back to the Mother Ship, you can go back to the med center and get another shot of the Xi-46 antidote—maybe it will work better the second time. And I’ll go back to being your perfectly professional assistant.”

“And…and what we do here won’t…won’t affect our work together?” Lizabeth knew what he was offering was impossible—cart blanche to do anything she wanted and act on all the forbidden thoughts and fantasies she’d ever had of him with no consequences. But the idea was just so…tempting. And his face was completely serious as he answered.

“Absolutely no effect whatsoever,” he promised. “We’ll do what we have to do here to get by and to help you with your needing attacks. Once we get home, it’s back to business as usual—I swear.”

“Well…” Lizabeth had to admit that the deal did make her feel a little better. Although there was a tiny bit of her that wished he would confess his undying love and beg to have a long-lasting relationship instead of just offering her an easy out.

What, like Arturo did? scoffed a little voice in her head. Right…I don’t think so, Lizabeth. This is definitely the best offer you’re going to get. Better accept it.

“All right,” she said at last, looking up at Lone. “I guess…I guess there’s nothing else we can do. And thank you for not minding.”

“How could I mind finally being able to touch you and taste you, Mistress?” he growled softly. “I wasn’t lying when I said I fantasized about you all the time.”

Lizabeth bit her lip. “Maybe…maybe you shouldn’t tell me things like that, Lone. It might make working together when we get home again difficult.”

“I just want you to know how desirable I find you.” Reaching for her hand, he pulled her to the side of the bed again. “Just want you to know I love helping you…Mistress.”

Lizabeth’s heart was pounding as she looked into his pale gray eyes.

“Lone…” she whispered.

“I think you still have some nectar in your breasts, Mistress,” he murmured, giving her a sexy little smile that seemed to melt things inside her. “May I suck your nipples again to be certain I’ve gotten the last of it?”

“I…I suppose so.” The words were hardly out of her mouth before his hot lips had closed around her aching right peak and he was sucking long and hard, sending showers of sparks straight to her pussy.

Lizabeth threw back her head and moaned as she threaded her fingers through his thick, dark hair.

Shouldn’t do this…it’s dangerous…it will only lead to trouble…

But what else could she do when they were stuck here playing the roles of Mistress and Novice and the damned needing wouldn’t leave her alone?

It’s only for a little while, she promised herself. As soon as we get back to the Mother Ship, we’ll get back to normal.

Not that she really believed that. But she had to tell herself something. And then she lost herself in the pleasure of Lone’s mouth on her breasts and stopped thinking at all.

* * * * *

It’s only for a little while, Lone told himself. You’d better make the most of it—store up as many memories as you can because as soon as we get back to the Mother Ship, she’ll never let you touch her again.

The thought made him sad but what could he do about it? He’d had to propose this compromise to Lizabeth or she would have gone on feeling guilty and miserable every time he had to help her and that was the last thing he wanted.

What he’d really wanted to do was declare his love—to tell her that he’d wanted her as more than a boss for years—ever since he’d first met her, in fact. But he sensed Lizabeth wouldn’t be open to that at all.

So this was all they had—all they could ever have—and Lone intended to make the most of it. After they left the Tower of the Higher Mind, he would have to go back to being just her assistant. But for now, at least, he could be her Novice and the male who helped her through her needing attacks.

Gods, Lizabeth, he thought as he palmed her full breasts and sucked the other tight nipple into his mouth. Love you so much. I just wish I could tell you…

Chapter Thirteen

A steady rapping on the wooden door of their bedchamber woke Lizabeth up with a start.

To her surprise, she found she wasn’t in bed alone.

Where am I? What’s going on?

Looking up and to her left, she saw that she was sleeping entwined with Lone, her arms and legs entangled with his and her cheek resting on his broad, muscular chest. Oh God, what had they done last night?

Slowly, the memories came back to her. The way he’d pretended to fuck her at dinner…and the way he’d brought her back to their bedroom and fucked her for real with the shiny black phallus afterwards. The deal they had made, that he would act as her Novice and help her with her needings while they were at the Tower but that things would go back to business as usual as soon as they returned to the Mother Ship.

And then he started sucking my nipples again…making sure he’d gotten all the nectar out of my breasts, Lizabeth thought, feeling a rush of shame and desire go through her at once. And he ended up using the shaft on me again…slowly this time…

She couldn’t forget the way Lone had cradled her in his arm and looked into her eyes while he thrust the thick toy gently and slowly between her legs, filling her pussy to the limit and watching her face while she came…Couldn’t forget the way he had whispered how beautiful she was and kissed her long and deep, swallowing her cries of pleasure eagerly while asking nothing for himself in return.

God, how embarrassing! And yet…it had technically been within the limits of their agreement, Lizabeth reminded herself. Though she hadn’t exactly been having a needing attack, her pussy had felt painfully empty when he finished sucking the last drops of nectar out of her breasts. Lone had only been helping her, as she had agreed he could.

I should stop feeling guilty, she told herself. Lone offered me an arrangement and I took it. It’s not like he’s wanting a long-term relationship or anything. This is all about necessity and convenience. We just—

The knocking on the door sounded again, reminding her of what had wakened her in the first place.

“I’ll get it.” Lone rolled over and sat up, his muscular, naked form filling her with a warm rush of lust. He was built like a Greek God—a fact she had tried to ignore when he was only her assistant. But now that she’d actually gotten to feel those washboard abs pressed against her body and feel the strength of his biceps and broad shoulders as he carried her and cradled her against him she found she saw him in a whole new light. A possessive feeling rushed over her.

He’s mine, whispered a little voice in her head. Not just my assistant—mine. My Novice—my property. Mine.

It was a ridiculous thought and she tried to push it away—you couldn’t own another person.

Not even if they want to be owned? asked a little voice inside her head. Memories of him bending over her, whispering how beautiful she was, hungry to make her come and give her pleasure filled her head. Were all Kindred like this? So eager to please a woman sexually? So devoted to fulfilling her every wish and need? If so, no wonder the divorce rate among them was zero percent.

She knew women who got frustrated with their Kindred husbands at time—her friend Kat, who she had met recently at a women’s group aboard the Mother Ship—often butted heads with her Dark Twin husband, Deep. As she had explained to Lizabeth—“They’re freaking incredible lovers and they’re amazingly attuned to the females they love but they’re still male which means they can get on a girls’ nerves something fierce sometimes.” Then she had sighed and smiled. “But you know, we always make up. Deep isn’t one of those guys who can’t apologize when he’s in the wrong and he and Lock both love me and the boys to distraction. They’re wonderful husbands and fathers.”

It was a story Lizabeth had heard over and over again during her time aboard the Mother Ship—that Kindred seemed to instinctively know what a woman wanted and they, in turn, wanted to give it to her. But she had never believed that would apply to her own life. She was too old to start something with someone new, she told herself. And besides, most of the Kindred that were her age were already happily mated and settled down and it wasn’t like she was going to start dating one of the younger warriors, right?

Wrong, whispered that voice in her head again. Or what are you doing with Lone right now?

We’re not dating—this is an arrangement of convenience, she told herself uneasily. It ends the minute we get back to the Mother Ship.

As she was thinking all this Lone was pulling on a pair of long, silky black trousers with his back to her—which gave her yet another chance to admire his hard, muscular ass—and going to the door of the bedchamber.

When he opened it, she was surprised to see Anya standing there with a floating metal serving cart.

“If it please you, sir,” she said to Lone. “I’m here with your breakfast, sent by Mistress Anarrah and her Novice, Sir Joren.”

“Just give us a moment and you can bring it in. My lady is not yet up,” Lone said to her. He shut the door gently and turned to Lizabeth. “Do you want First Meal in bed, Mistress?” he asked, smiling a little. “Or would you like to get dressed and have a seat?”

He indicated a small table with two chairs which sat by the large window by the side of the bed. Seen in the morning light, the view outside the thick glass was breathtaking—a sheer drop from the Sacred Mountain down to a misty crevasse below.

“I need to get up and get dressed” Lizabeth said. She sat up, making sure to keep the silky blue sheet up over her breasts. “But…” She bit her lip. “But I think the dress I was wearing last night is kind of ruined.”

“It’s in tatters from where I had to rip it off you to get to your breasts and pussy,” Lone acknowledged matter-of-factly. “But Joren gave me other clothes for you. I think there was a dressing gown in the pile of garments he gave me yesterday. Here it is.” He found it and held it out, like a butler holding a coat for her to put on.

“Um, would you just hand it to me?” Lizabeth asked. “I’m, uh, kind of naked here.”

“I know—I slept with you naked in my arms,” he murmured, not moving an inch. He nodded at the sheet clutched to her breasts. “You don’t have to be ashamed to show yourself to me, Lizabeth. I’ve seen all of you and you’re fucking beautiful.”

Lizabeth didn’t know what to say to this.

“You…you never used to curse,” she said at last.

“I never used to have to fight to keep you safe and never got to you hold you in my arms and make you come either, Mistress,” he pointed out. “Things are different here…and I find I’m different as well.”

“You certainly are,” Lizabeth agreed, remembering her bewildered thoughts, wondering where her old assistant had gone and who this new Lone was.

“Does it displease you?” Lone asked. “I’m afraid I can’t help it. The…Dark Twin part of me seems to be coming out. I didn’t even know it was there until we came here. I always assumed I would have been the Light Twin of my pairing if my brother had lived. But now…I’m not so sure.”

“I wondered about that,” Lizabeth admitted. “Um, could you toss me that robe now, Lone? Poor Anya probably has other people she’s supposed to bring breakfast to.”

“Come and let me put it on you,” he insisted, his gray eyes half-lidded. “I need to check your breasts and make certain you’re not needing right now, anyway.”

“I’ll tell you when—if—I have another needing attack,” she promised reluctantly. “Now toss me the robe.”

“Come and let me put it on you. Let me see you, Lizabeth.” His voice dropped to a soft growl. “I won’t be able to ask such things after we get back to the Mother Ship—I’ll never get to see your beauty again. Let me drink my fill of it now.”

The soft pleading in his voice and the hunger in his piercing gray eyes seemed to break something inside her. And the fact that he had already seen her and thought her body was beautiful bolstered her courage.

“All right,” she said at last, slipping out of bed. “If that’s really what you want.”

“You’re what I want,” Lone murmured.

His eyes scanned lazily over her nude body, making Lizabeth blush but she raised her chin and tried to overcome the urge to cover herself with her hands. When she reached Lone, she deliberately put her back to him and slid her arms into the silky sleeves of the deep red dressing gown he held open for her.

“There now, that wasn’t so bad. Was it?” Lone murmured in her ear as he reached around her to close the gown and tie the crimson sash in a loose knot at her waist. “Thank you for letting me see you, Mistress.”

“If you really were my Novice, I’d have you punished for being so demanding,” Lizabeth said, rather breathlessly. “I’m pretty sure what you’ve been doing is called ‘topping from the bottom’ and I shouldn’t allow it.”

“Topping from the bottom, hmm?” Lone hummed thoughtfully in her ear. “I like that. Where did you learn such a term?”

“A case I had before I worked for the Kindred High Council. I represented a dominatrix who was being sued by one of her clients. I had to, er, learn quite a lot about her world in order to prepare for the case.”

“And did you win?” Lone asked, finally turning her to face him.

“Hell yes, I won.” Lizabeth arched an eyebrow at him. “I don’t play to lose—you should know that by now, Lone.”

“I most certainly do. It’s one of the things I admire about you, Mistress.” He smiled. “Would you like to have a seat at the table and I’ll let Anya in with the First Meal things?” He indicated the small, ornately carved table beside the window again.

“Thank you—I will.” Lizabeth sat and Lone opened the door again, inviting the Friezen woman inside this time.

“Thank you, kind sir,” she said, nodding at him as she pushed the floating cart over to Lizabeth. “If you please, madam, be careful—these dishes are hot,” she said as she started unloading the contents of the cart.

“There’s nothing alive or grown in dung, is there?” Lizabeth asked apprehensively as two large shiny, gold, domed dishes were placed on the table—one for her and one for Lone, apparently.

“Oh, you mean like the Pyrnig fungus?” Anya asked. “No, madam—nothing like that. I heard you had some last night and I know how rich it can be—though the likes of me has only tasted it once or twice. So I brought you quantham eggs and yorn cakes with sour-berry jelly. I hope that’ll be to your liking.”

Seeing as how she hadn’t actually had any dinner at all the night before, Lizabeth was pretty sure anything that wasn’t completely disgusting would be to her liking.

“I’m sure it will be fine, thank you Anya,” she said smiling. “But you don’t have to call me madam—I’m just Lizabeth.”

“Oh no—I couldn’t do that!” Anya’s eyes got wide. “I was told that as an undermaid, I must address all the Mistresses with respect—so I must!”

“Very well then,” Lizabeth said, seeing she couldn’t dissuade her. “How are you settling in here?”

“It’s hard work,” Anya said frankly. “But I don’t mind it a bit. I’d much rather be here working hard than relaxing back in the ripening tent, waiting for the shaman to decide I’m ready for cutting.”

“Do they really…cut women between their legs?” Lizabeth still could hardly believe it.

“Oh, yes madam!” Anya said earnestly. “They have to.”

“Have to?” Lizabeth shook her head. “What do you mean? Why would they have to do something so barbaric and evil?”

“Well, because of the prophesy of course,” Anya said matter-of-factly. Closing her eyes, she recited in a slow, steady voice:

“The Snow Queen must be fair of face

Filled with Beauty, Age, and Grace.

When she is cut and her Blood flows,

The Gods will save us from the Snows.

And if the males do Breed her Well

Gods save us from the Frozen Hell.

In her belly Plant a Seed

The Gods will Give us All we Need.”

“And…the Friezens—your people—really believe all that?” Lizabeth asked. “Do you believe it?”

“Yes, madam.” Anya hung her head, looking sad and ashamed. “What Brut said about me being selfish was true. I know I should have stayed and let them make me the Snow Queen for the good of the people.” She looked at Lizabeth appealingly. “But I just couldn’t stand to be cut! I tried to make up my mind to it but the more I thought of it, the more frightened I got until I couldn’t stand it anymore. I had to run!”

“You did the right thing,” Lizabeth assured her. “And I promise you this— your not being, uh, sacrificed…” She winced at the word. “Won’t make any difference one way or another to your people. You can’t control the weather or the crop yield by hurting someone—that’s not how things work.”

Anya looked at her, wide-eyed. “Do you not believe in the Gods, then, where you come from, madam?”

Lizabeth wasn’t exactly sure how to answer that. She herself wasn’t a big believer in any kind of deity, although she knew most of the Kindred aboard the Mother Ship were devout.

“We Kindred believe in the Goddess—the Mother of All Life,” Lone said, coming to sit across the table from Lizabeth. “We revere all things female.” His face grew dark. “No just or loving deity would order that a female be mutilated and raped just to appease them.”

“A female god?” Anya shook her head, as though she found the concept difficult to grasp. “I know that places like this…” She motioned at the Tower around them… “Where women are the rulers do exist but I never thought of a female god.”

“The Goddess is just and loving, though we cannot always understand her motives or the reasons behind things that happen to us.” Lone spoke quietly. “I believe she brought us to you just at the right moment to save you, Anya. She would abhor the practice of female defilement and mutilation.”

“Mayhap you’re right.” Anya bobbed her head thoughtfully. “Though my brother still says I should go back.”

“Your brother?” Lizabeth frowned. “Who’s that?”

“Why, it’s Karx, madam,” Anya said. “He who is the Mistress Superior’s Novice. He says like Brut did that I’m being selfish and I ought to go back and be the Snow Queen after all. But Mistress Verlandah, she won’t let him make me,” she added quickly. “I heard her tell him that they needed your credit too bad and as long as you wouldn’t hear of me being sent back, I couldn’t be sent.” She looked at Lizabeth fearfully. “You won’t let me be sent back, will you, madam? That’s why I begged to bring your breakfast tray today—I wanted to ask you myself in case Karx talked to you later on.”

“Of course not! You’re staying right here,” Lizabeth said firmly. She was shocked, both at the fact that Karx was Anya’s brother and that he would advocate sending his own sister back to torture, rape, and possible death. What a bastard!

“Oh, thank you, madam!” Anya exclaimed gratefully. “Thank you a hundred, thousand times! I feel ever so much better now.”

“My Lady will not allow you to be hurt or sent away,” Lone said quietly. “She is an advocate for justice—it is both her profession and her calling.” He smiled at Lizabeth as he spoke. “And she is very, very good at her work. If your life is in her hands, you have nothing to fear.”

Anya looked at him wonderingly.

“Karx said all you Kindred were female-worshipers,” she said wonderingly. “I didn’t really understand that before, but now I see it must be true. You don’t just bow and scrape and degrade yourself by licking her, uh, female bits just so you can stay out of the cold.” She blushed as she nodded at Lizabeth. “You truly care for her, don’t you?”

“Very much.” Lone took Lizabeth’s hand and leaned down to press a soft, hot kiss to the backs of her fingers. “And pleasuring my Lady with my mouth is not a debasement—it is an honor.”

Lizabeth began to feel her cheeks get warm.

“Lone…” she murmured.

“That’s not how my people see it at all,” Anya said frankly. “Karx won’t never be accepted back into our tribe again—even if he wanted to go back, he couldn’t. Because it’s known to us that up here a male has to lick and kiss female bits or he isn’t allowed to stay. The shaman says it’s the worse shame a male can suffer, being made lower than a female that is—and us lower than dirt. Begging your pardon, madam, and I hope I don’t offend you,” she added, looking at Lizabeth.

“I’m not offended,” Lizabeth said quietly. “Just a little sad that your people feel that way. You’re not ‘lower than dirt’ because you’re female, Anya. Women have worth too—the same worth as men.”

“Not in my tribe they don’t,” Anya said soberly. “We’re not fit for nothing but meeting a male’s needs and bearing children—and even then we’re considered worthless if the ones we bear are all female.”

“Females are not worthless—nothing could be further from the truth!” Lone exclaimed, looking genuinely upset. “Someone ought to teach your tribe their true worth.”

“Ah, but they wouldn’t listen to you, sir.” Anya shook her head dolefully. “Not when they know you’re a Novice and you lower yourself to serve a female with your tongue, as you do.”

“We Kindred believe there is a bit of the Goddess in every female,” Lone said firmly. He looked at Lizabeth, his gray eyes filled with emotion and his voice dropped to a soft growl. “And that spark of divinity is well worth worshiping—with our tongues and in other ways as well. As I long to worship my Mistress.”

“Lone…” Lizabeth murmured, feeling her heart start to pound. She knew he was just playing the part of her devoted Novice but did he have to play it so well?

“Well sir, madam, I’d better go now and serve the others.” Anya bobbed a little bow to them. “Thank you again for saving me and not sending me back down the mountains to be the Snow Queen. I’ll be grateful all my days and if ever there’s something I can do for you, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you, Anya—that’s very kind. I’m glad you’re settling in well here.” Lizabeth smiled at her as the other woman bowed again and left, closing the bedroom door behind her. “Well!” she said, turning to Lone as soon as she was certain Anya was out of earshot. “Can you believe that Karx is her brother?”

“Or that he wants to send her back down to be sacrificed in that barbaric way?” Lone’s gray eyes were dark as thunderclouds. “How could any male even consider such a thing?”

“You heard the way she talked,” Lizabeth said, frowning. “It’s just as you warned me before we came here—the Friezens are a male-centric society. Even poor Anya thinks she was wrong to run away from her awful fate. She’s been taught all her life that she’s worthless because she’s female.”

“Which could not be further from the truth—all female life is precious,” Lone said.

“You feel that way because your people are ninety-nine percent male,” Lizabeth pointed out. “Your whole society is devoted to the search for compatible females you can mate with in order to keep the Kindred race from dying out. It’s biological.”

“It’s ideological as well,” Lone argued. “We truly believe in the divinity of females—of their intrinsic worth and value. Females are to be cherished and protected, not harmed or belittled or trampled on.” He shook his head. “It amazes me how many societies and cultures—among them, some in your own world—don’t understand that, Lizabeth.”

“Unfortunately not everyone is a progressive as the Kindred,” Lizabeth said dryly. “And what was all that talk about ‘worshiping’ me? Don’t you think you were taking your devout Novice act a little far, Lone?”

“I wasn’t putting on an act.” He spoke quietly, looking into her eyes as he did. “I didn’t say a single word to Anya that I don’t believe with my whole heart, Mistress. I long to worship you in every way.”

“Oh…” Lizabeth didn’t know what to say to that. “Um…we’d probably better eat,” she said, trying to change the subject. “The food is going to get cold if we don’t.”

“Let’s eat,” Lone agreed and she was relieved that he seemed willing to let the awkward part of the conversation drop.

They drew the golden metal domes off their plates together and Lizabeth was greeted to the sight of something that looked very much like scrambled eggs and a biscuit spread with jelly. If scrambled eggs were green and biscuits were dark purple. The jelly was red, which made it look a little like blood clots on the deep purple of the biscuit.

Two more of the long silver sticks bound together at one end—the prongies—had been provided and Lizabeth picked one up and poked at the mound of green eggs. Suddenly, she began to laugh.

“What is it, Mistress?” Lone gave her a quizzical smile. “What’s so funny?”

“Green eggs and ham.” Lizabeth poked at the eggs again. “Sorry—it’s a children’s book I used to read to my nephews, years ago,” she explained, smiling. “I just never thought I’d ever eat actual green eggs.” She sighed. “That was back before…when I thought I might want to be a mom myself one day.”

“And do you still? Wish to be a mother?” Lone asked softly.

Lizabeth shrugged. “That ship has sailed. I mean, I know lots of women my age do IVF to get pregnant but I just feel like…my time has passed. And besides, who would I have kids with?” She laughed self-deprecatingly. “I wouldn’t want to try to do it on my own and I don’t see many guys lining up to do the parenting thing with a forty-five year old who knows the law way better than she knows her way around a changing table and a bottle warmer.”

“You’re doing it again,” Lone said quietly.

“Doing what?” Lizabeth frowned at him.

“Belittling yourself because of your age. You’re beautiful, Lizabeth—you shouldn’t speak so about yourself. Many males would be proud to have you as the mother of their children.”

“I wasn’t belittling myself exactly,” Lizabeth protested. “I’m just saying that time in my life has passed. Sometimes I wish it hadn’t but, well…” She shrugged. “Sometimes you have to accept facts. I’m probably never going to be a mom at this point.”

“I cannot have children either, you know,” Lone said quietly. “Without a twin brother to help, it’s nearly impossible for a Twin Kindred to father children. I have heard of it happening from time to time but it’s extremely rare.”

“I’m sorry, Lone.” Lizabeth reached across the table and pressed his hand. “Do you want to be a father?” They had never talked about such things before, she realized. Had never talked so openly and so intimately about their hopes and dreams and regrets. It made her feel closer to her assistant—in a way even closer than the physical intimacy they had shared the night before.

Baring your body was one thing—baring your soul was something else entirely.

He sighed. “I would like to very much, yes. I think I would make a good father—though it would be difficult to parent without a twin to help me. But I think I could manage.”

“I think you could too.” Lizabeth bit her lip. “And you’re still so young—you shouldn’t give up. Maybe…maybe when we get back to the Mother Ship you’ll find a nice girl who doesn’t care that you don’t have a twin. Lots of women are open to the idea of adoption, you know.”

Just saying the words made her feel sick inside. The idea of Lone with another woman—a nice girl his own age—the two of them laughing together, holding hands, going to adopt a baby…it all made her feel like her soul had been twisted into a knot. But she made herself say the words anyway. After all, once they got back to the Mother Ship, their relationship would go back to being businesslike and professional. It was reasonable to suggest such a thing to him, as hard as it was to get the words out.

Lone didn’t answer. He just sat there looking at her for a long time. Then he shook his head and looked back down at his breakfast.

“We should eat,” he said in a low voice. “This is likely to be the most appetizing meal we’re served all day.”

“True.” Blindly, Lizabeth stabbed a bit of green egg with her prongie and put it in her mouth.

But whether it tasted good or bad, she really couldn’t say. She felt numb and they ate in silence.

* * * * *

Her words hurt Lone more than he could fathom. The fact that Lizabeth would even suggest that he should find another female to settle down with—someone other than her—sent a stinging blade deep into his soul.

How can you say such a thing? he wanted to shout. How could you even consider it? Don’t you know you’re the only woman I want? The only one I’ve ever wanted? I can’t imagine my life without you—I wish only to serve you. Why can’t you see that?

But somehow, he clenched his jaw and managed to keep the words inside, just as he had been doing for the past two years. He was beginning to wonder, though, how much longer he would be able to contain the feelings within him. As the Dark Half of him came forward, they seemed to be rushing upwards, bubbling to the surface like blood about to pour from an open wound.

Is that what my relationship with Lizabeth has become? A wound? he asked himself as he stabbed blindly at the dark green eggs. It certainly felt like it at times like this—when she unknowingly hurt him with her words. Even though he knew her intentions were good, it still stabbed like a knife to know she thought he ought to find another female once they got to the Mother Ship.

She must not care about me at all, Lone thought. Not in the way I care for her, anyway. Or she could never suggest such a thing.

For the first time he wished he could stop caring—that he could take back his heart, which had been given to her the moment he first met her. But there was no way to stop his feelings—no way to stop wanting her, to stop wanting to serve her.

There was nothing, in short, he could do but try to make the most of his time with her here at the Tower. Because Lizabeth was making it crystal clear that the moment they got back to the Mother Ship, she expected him to go back to being her assistant and only her assistant.

I’ll never have the chance to serve her again—not the way I long to, Lone thought sadly as they ate their food in silence. Oh Lizabeth, if only you felt for me the way I feel for you…

Chapter Fourteen

“Damn these things, they’re so annoying! I’m sorry—would you give me a minute?” Lizabeth bent down to see that the long black ribbons which were wrapped around her calves and ankles had begun to unravel again. She began to retie the one on the right, muttering another curse under her breath as she did so.

The ribbons didn’t add much to the regular Mistress outfit of the silky white gown and long black vest in her opinion—-in fact, they were proving to be nothing more than a massive pain in the ass. But apparently she had to wear them because they denoted a new Initiate to Knowledge—it was Tower protocol.

“I can see to them if you wish, Mistress,” Lone offered. He was already bending towards her but Lizabeth waved him away.

“Don’t be silly, Lone—that’s like offering to tie my shoe. I’m an adult—I can manage.” She finished the right ribbon and then retied the left as well before straightening up. “All right,” she said to Joren and Mistress Anarrah, who had both come to meet them at their room after breakfast, in order to take them to Mistress Anarrah’s classroom. “I should be good for a couple more steps until they come untied again. Sorry.”

“Do not apologize, my dear.” Mistress Anarrah smiled serenely. “There is a trick to keeping them tied, you know.”

“Is there? I wish you’d teach it to me—they’re driving me crazy,” Lizabeth confided to her.

But the other Mistress only smiled.

“You’ll learn it in time, I should think. Come—my classroom is this way.”

She motioned down the long stone corridor which appeared to be where the original part of the mountain and the newer, man-made part of the Tower intersected. One half of the hallway was all bulges and swirls from where the water had shaped the rock—the other was straight and neat and orderly. The juxtaposition gave the long corridor a strangely surreal effect and Lizabeth felt, not for the first time, that she was somehow trapped in a dream.

Only in a dream would I be dressed like this and having the kind of inappropriate relationship with my assistant that I’ve been having since we got to the Tower, she thought.

As she thought that, they came around a curve in the corridor and Lizabeth saw another one of the large wooden doors bound in bronze. But this one had a lock on it and a yellowed paper sign that looked tattered and old was hung from a string on the knob.

“Silence please—meditation in progress.”

“Oh, what’s that room?” Lizabeth asked in a low voice, pointing.

“The Meditation Grotto,” Joren answered promptly, but in a normal tone which made Lizabeth wince and hope they weren’t disturbing whoever was meditating.

“Don’t worry my dear, the only one in there is Mistress Goldahh and she hasn’t emerged in five cycles,” Mistress Anarrah said.

“She’s been meditating for five whole cycles?” Lone frowned. “Isn’t that a long time?”

“Well, I suppose it is.” Mistress Anarrah looked sad. “But you see, she decided to take a vow of silence and locked herself in there after her Novice died rather suddenly. I suppose she’ll come out when she’s ready. Only the Mistress Superior is allowed to visit her—she brings Mistress Goldahh’s meals herself and councils her daily.”

“That’s…very kind of her.” Lizabeth frowned. The Mistress Superior didn’t strike her as the caring, supportive type. But maybe she was just prickly until you got to know her.

“Yes, most kind. Mistress Goldahh came from Yonnie Six to stay with us for just a little while —she’s one of the richest women on the planet you know. But then she decided to give up her glamorous life and make a life-long commitment to the Tower—as so many of our Mistresses do,” Mistress Anarrah remarked.

“Oh?” Lizabeth said. “And why is that, do you think?”

“Well, it comes down to love, really. You see, there are so few places on the Yonnite home world where the relationship we have here between Mistress and Novice is understood and tolerated,” Mistress Anarrah said.

“They don’t believe a Novice should penetrate his Mistress,” Joren put in helpfully. “Not with his shaft, anyway. Though they do allow penetration with the tongue.”

“But sometimes a woman just needs a shaft inside her—don’t you find, my dear?” Mistress Anarrah said to Lizabeth.

“Um…” Lizabeth’s cheeks grew hot when she remembered the terrible need she’d had the night before and the way Lone had fucked her with the thick black phallus to ease her desire.

“And love between a Mistress and Novice is strictly forbidden on Yonnie Six.
Mistress Anarrah went on, thankfully not making her answer. “They believe that males aren’t fit to be anything but bodyslaves. But you and I know this isn’t true—males are worthy of love and devotion too—don’t you think, my dear? At least the right male is.” She gave Joren a loving look and her Novice returned it, his brown eyes shining with devotion.

“Absolutely.” Lizabeth nodded but found she couldn’t meet Lone’s eyes as she spoke. “I think that’s very true.”

“Well—here we are,” Mistress Anarrah said brightly, saving her from having to find something else to say about the subject. They had gone around another curve in the corridor and arrived in front of yet another bronze-bound, wooden door.

“Let me get that for you, Mistress,” Joren said quickly. He opened the door with a flourish and waved them all inside, smiling.

“Thank you, my darling.” Mistress Anarrah trailed her fingers over her Novice’s cheek in a sweet caress as she entered the room and Lizabeth and Lone followed her.

“Wow,” Lizabeth breathed, looking around. The classroom was actually a huge library with leather-bound books of all sizes from little ones about as big as Lizabeth’s palm to large ones bigger than her torso. They ran from floor to ceiling in rows upon rows that filled nearly every single wall of the room.

There was one exception—at the far end of the classroom was a long, rich wooden table with comfortable, leather-padded seats and reading lamps every few feet. It was situated in front of the one wall with no books because it held a massive fireplace instead. In the grate, a flickering fire of gold and crimson flames was burning brightly and crackling quietly to itself.

“I’m afraid I have one of the few rooms in the Tower that is only partially warmed by the underground hot springs,” Mistress Anarrah said apologetically. “It gets a bit chilly in here—especially on bare feet. So I make sure to have a fire going all the time here—or at least, Joren does.”

“Yuh, that I do, Mistress. I’ll throw a bit more fuel on now.” Her Novice went to the fireplace and began tending the leaping flames.

“I am sorry—I do hope you won’t mind the chill too much,” Mistress Anarrah said.

“Please don’t apologize—this is wonderful.” Lizabeth looked around in awe and breathed in the spicy scent of real books and leather and wood. “Are all these Yonnite law?” she asked, motioning to the rows of volumes.

“Oh my no, my dear! Yonnite Law seems complicated to an outsider but actually it’s quite simple once you master a few basic principles. No—these represent my life-long study of all kinds of legal systems. I believe I have books here from every known sentient culture in the galaxy. It’s by no means my complete collection—most of it I store electronically, of course. But these are the books I simply cannot do without—I like to hold a book in my hand when I’m learning from it, don’t you know? Not just view it on a screen or have it fed into my brain with a neural jack-in.”

“Um, you can do that? Feed information directly into your brain?” Lizabeth remembered joking about something similar with Lone but she had never dreamed it would be an actual possibility.

“Oh my, yes!” Lizabeth said. “But only if you’ve already got a jack installed. See?” She lifted her silvery hair and showed Lizabeth what looked like a tiny, pin-sized port located just under her right ear. “Do you have one?” she asked. “It would make the transfer of information much easier.”

“I’m afraid not.” Lizabeth shook her head. “Can I get one here?”

“At the Tower? I’m afraid not.” Mistress Anarrah sighed regretfully. “It’s a special medical procedure you can only get done on U’la Prime. It’s very expensive but worth it, in my humble opinion.”

“Ah, well…” Lizabeth shrugged. “I’m afraid I’ll just have to learn the old-fashioned way.”

“That’s all right, my dear. I’m happy to teach in any style that suites you.” Mistress Anarrah smiled. “Very well then—let’s get started, shall we? Please come have a seat at the table and tell me which parts of the Yonnite law are giving you trouble.”

Lizabeth was more than happy to do so. She wanted to dive right into her studies here and make up for the time she had lost studying because the needing had been so bad for the past two weeks. Lone sat quietly beside her and before she knew it, she and Mistress Anarrah were deep in the intricacies of Yonnite law…

“Very good, my dear! You’re grasping this beautifully!” They had worked through the morning, had a simple, flavorful lunch which appeared to be the Yonnite Two version of sandwiches, (though the filling resembled purple lunchmeat and turquoise slices of some kind of fruit,) and continued for several hours after lunch.

It had been a long day’s work but very enjoyable and most illuminating, Lizabeth thought. Also, Mistress Anarrah seemed very happy with her. She beamed at Lizabeth who smiled back.

“Thank you. I’ve been studying law most of my life—it’s my passion. But there were just some strange parts of the Yonnite code I didn’t understand. Now that you’ve explained, I find that it’s much clearer.”

“I’m so glad it’s becoming clear to you. Now, there are a few gray areas you should be aware of—especially if you’re prosecuting well-connected Mistresses and the plaintiffs in this case are males, as you say. Hmmm…now where is that book on Yonnite tort reform?”

Mistress Anarrah put a thumb to her mouth, nibbling her beautifully shaped nail thoughtfully as she scanned the rows and rows of books.

“Oh, there it is,” she said at last, pointing to a wall on Lizabeth’s right. Right up at the very top.”

“Where is it? I’ll get it.” Lizabeth hopped up, glad to stretch her legs and was starting for the rolling stepladder when Lone stood up behind her.

“Let me fetch it for you, Mistress,” he murmured. “That stepladder looks steep.”

“Oh, no—I don’t mind.” Lizabeth breezed over to the ladder—which really was rather steep, especially when the book she was going to get was about thirty feet up—and began climbing. Lone watched in apparent concern from the bottom, holding the ladder steady for her, though she hadn’t asked him to.

Lizabeth climbed and climbed, clutching the railing tightly as she got closer to the high, vaulted ceiling. Had she thought that the top of the bookcase was thirty feet up? Well, it felt more like fifty feet and she had never liked heights. She thought of Lone’s offer to get the book for her but if she backed out now she would feel foolish. Besides, she was perfectly capable of doing this. Lifting her chin, she kept going.

“All the way up,” Mistress Anarrah pointed. “There—that big blue one bound in yibben hide with the gold writing on the spine.”

“This one?” Lizabeth frowned at the book her new mentor was indicating. It wasn’t one of the ones that was as big as her torso but it wasn’t much smaller either. It was at least twelve inches thick and looked like it would weigh about a ton. Still, she was up here now so she might as well get it.

Taking a deep breath, she slid the thick volume out of its space and hefted it in her arms—both arms—because there was no way she could lift it in just one.

“Oof,” she muttered to herself. “This must weigh a hundred pounds. Or at least fifty.”

“Mistress are you sure you don’t want me to get that for you?” Down at the bottom of the staircase ladder, Lone was looking more concerned than ever.

“No, no—I’ll be fine,” Lizabeth said firmly. “It’ll be good exercise for me. I’m always telling myself I need to do more strength-training when I go to the gym. Just hold the ladder steady and I’ll be right down.”

But it wasn’t going to be easy going down without a hand to hold onto the rails. Nevertheless, Lizabeth stubbornly told herself she could manage. Going backwards, she stepped down carefully, feeling for the step with her bare foot and finding it as she clutched the heavy book to her chest. Then the next step and then the next…

Everything would have been fine, she thought later, if it wasn’t for those damn black ribbons she had to wear tied around her calves and ankles like shoe-less gladiator sandal lacings. Unbeknownst to her, the left one had become untied again. As she stepped down with her right foot, she somehow got her toes entangled in the silky thing.

With a gasp she missed the step and then lost her balance. In the space of a heartbeat, she was tumbling backward, the heavy book of Yonnite tort reform still clutched desperately to her chest.

She had a brief moment to wonder if she was going to break her neck or her back. She had only managed to come down a few feet on the ladder before tripping and she was falling from the height of a second or third story window at least. She heard a frightened exclamation from Mistress Anarrah below but a scream barely had time to form in her own throat before someone caught her.

The heavy book bounced against her chest and mouth at the same time, splitting her lower lip and knocking all the wind out of her. Lizabeth tasted blood and her choked gasp turned into a muffled cry of pain. Then worried gray eyes were staring down into her own.

“Mistress? Lizabeth? Are you all right?” Lone rumbled.

Lizabeth tried to get air back into her lugs. God, this stupid book weighed a ton.

“I…think so,” she managed to get out at last. “Just hurt my lip. But it…it could have been worse. Much worse. Thank you, Lone.”

She looked around and realized that she was still half-way up the ladder and the big Kindred was holding her with one arm while he grabbed the railing of the rolling staircase with the other hand. The floor was still quite far away—the sight made her dizzy.

“Wow, Lone—how did you get up to me so fast?” she asked, looking up at him.

“I started climbing up the staircase the minute you started coming down it,” he admitted. “You, uh, didn’t look too steady, Mistress—not trying to hold that huge book and climb at the same time.”

Lizabeth was tempted to bristle at him and protest that she was perfectly capable of getting her own book. Except…hadn’t she just proved the exact opposite?

“Thank you for catching me,” she said instead. “Um, you can put me down now so we can go back down the ladder. Your arm has to be killing you.”

“I’d prefer to carry you, Mistress, if you don’t mind. My arms are perfectly fine,” Lone said quietly.

She almost protested that she could get down the staircase herself but there was a longing in his gray eyes she couldn’t ignore.

He’s really worried about me—he wants to keep me safe, she realized.

She sighed and nodded.

“All right, thank you Lone. If you’re sure I’m not too heavy. Me plus this book is a pretty heavy lift.”

“You’re never too heavy for me, Mistress,” he murmured. “I’ll have you down in a moment and then we can tend to that lip of yours.”

“Oh…” Lizabeth reached up and felt her bottom lip carefully. She winced at the tenderness and saw there was blood on her fingertips. “Wow, Yonnite law is harder than I thought—literally,” she tried to joke, though her mouth really hurt.

Lone gave her a smile as he swiftly and smoothly descended the stairs with her still cradled in one muscular arm.

“Very funny, Mistress. All right—here you go.” He set her gently on her feet on the ground and then looked over at Mistress Anarrah and Joren, who were watching them silently. “My Mistress has a small injury—do you have a care kit and some ice I could use on her?”

“Certainly we do,” Mistress Anarrah said quickly. “Joren, would you be so kind as to take Lone to the kitchens and get him what he requires to tend to his Lady?”

“With pleasure, Mistress.” Joren jerked his head towards the door. “Come, lad—it’s this way.”

Feeling a little shaky, Lizabeth sat back down at the large table and sighed deeply. But the minute the door was shut, Mistress Anarrah came and sat beside her.

“My dear,” she said, giving Lizabeth a frank, appraising look. “We have to talk.”

“About what? My hurt lip?” Lizabeth touched it with the tip of her tongue and then wished she hadn’t—it stung. “Do you have an incident report form you want me to fill out or something?” she asked.

“No, my dear—it isn’t your lip I want to talk about. It’s your Novice.”

“Is something wrong with Lone?” Lizabeth sat up and looked at her anxiously. Had her new mentor figured out that the arrangement between herself and Lone was strictly a temporary one? Did she know they weren’t really a “love match” and want to kick them out?

“Oh there’s nothing wrong with him, my dear—at least, I don’t think so—though many societies would. Please, don’t look so worried.” She patted Lizabeth’s hand soothingly. “I just want to talk. Your Novice, my dear, is a treasure—something we Mistresses on Yonnie Six hunt for, sometimes all our days—without finding. Your Lone is a true submissive.”

“What? Submissive?” Lizabeth frowned and sat back, recoiling instinctively.

That word, “submissive” conjured so many unwelcome images in her mind, mostly from the case where she had defended the Dominatrix. She had visited the “dungeon” where her client worked and had seen men tied to the Saint Andrew’s cross and begging to be flogged or crawling on their hands and knees wearing collars and butt plugs and ball gags. There had been one in particular who kept trying to lick her shoes and kiss her feet, until the Dominatrix—Madam Whiplash had been her name—had swatted him away with a long leather riding crop.

Most of the men on display in the dungeon had been middle-aged and flabby with unsightly body hair and too much fish-belly-white skin on display under their ridiculous leather harnesses. That, added to the bizarre way they were behaving, equaled a real turn-off for Lizabeth. Which was a shame, actually—she had read a few books on BDSM that sounded mildly intriguing. But that one case had turned her solidly off any kind of kink—at least any that involved submissive males. She knew many people liked the Lifestyle and she didn’t judge them for it—she just didn’t want it for herself.

“Submissive,” she said again, making a face. “What in the world would make you say that about Lone?”

“Why, what is that look on your face?” Mistress Anarrah exclaimed. “Submissive must mean something else in your culture than it does in mine!”

“Possibly,” Lizabeth admitted. “To me it brings to mind someone who’s always begging to be spanked or tortured sexually. Someone crawling on the floor, trying to lick his Mistress’s boots or suck her toes or something like that.” She shivered.

“Why no, my dear—that isn’t what I meant at all,” Mistress Anarrah assured her. “Far from it. What you’re describing is what we call a sexual masochist—someone who needs to be disciplined or humiliated in order to achieve arousal.”

“That is what I was thinking of,” Lizabeth admitted. “I had a client once who did that for a living—disciplined men who got off on being disciplined. The whole thing was…” She shook her head. “Very distasteful to me. The idea of doing anything like that to Lone—of spanking him or tying him down and…” She shook her head. “It just doesn’t appeal to me at all. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, my dear. When I say that your Novice is a true submissive, I don’t mean he wants you to punish him. I mean he wants to serve you,” Mistress Anarrah said gently.

“Serve me? Serve me how?” Lizabeth asked, mystified.

“Why, in all things, I would think. And especially sexually.” Mistress Anarrah smiled gently. “Have you not noticed, my dear, how he tries to do little things for you? The way he wanted to fix the ribbons you must wear wrapped around your legs…how he wanted to get that book on tort reform for you. But you rarely let him.”

Lizabeth thought about all the times in the years they’d been working together that Lone had served her coffee or tea, fixing it to her exact liking flawlessly every time. Or the way he was always ready to run errands for her or take notes for her or do any of the hundred other things he did to make her life easier.

But…he’s my assistant, she thought uneasily. He’s supposed to do those things—it’s his job.

But she’d had assistants before and none of them had enjoyed helping her and doing their job like Lone did. And at work wasn’t the only time he helped her. What about when he came over to her suite and cooked for her? And then insisted on doing the dishes afterwards even though Lizabeth had protested that they ought to split the chores? He always seemed to find other little things to do for her as well—things she had gradually begun to take for granted.

And now we’re away from the office and we’re in a much stranger situation than we ever have been before, she thought. And he wants to help me in other ways. More…intimate ways.

She thought of how he’d wanted to help her get dressed and put on the ribbons in the first place…and how he’d wanted to kneel and fix them when they came untied. The way he had caught her in mid-air when she’d fallen from the rolling staircase because he was so good at anticipating exactly what she needed and giving it to her.

And don’t forget the way he fucked you within an inch of your life last night with that toy, whispered a little voice in her head. He certainly gave you what you needed then! Several times.

Just thinking about it made Lizabeth blush and look down at her hands. God, could it be that Mistress Anarrah was right? Did Lone really want to serve her? And did he really get pleasure from doing so?

“I can see by your face that you’re beginning to understand what I mean.” Mistress Anarrah’s soft voice cut into her reflections.

“I…think so,” Lizabeth said uncertainly. “But…I don’t know that I really think that makes him submissive.”

“Not in the sense that you were thinking earlier, no,” Mistress Anarrah said. “I do not think that Lone has any wish to be physically punished or beaten by you. But I do believe that if you wished to tie him up and flog or whip him, he would allow it and might even get pleasure from it if he thought it gave you pleasure. Do you understand?”

“I’m…beginning to,” Lizabeth said. “You’re saying he just wants to serve me? But why?”

“For love, my dear. Serving you is his way of showing how much he loves you,” Anarrah said earnestly. “I remember the first time I realized my Joren was a true submissive. We were still on Yonnie Six at the time and he was so young—only about twenty-two cycles to my own thirty-five. I was a businesswoman—a practitioner of law—but I, like all Yonnite Mistresses, owned bodyslaves.

“I remember when I bought Joren, I had him in my domicile for almost a month before I realized that he really enjoyed the duties I assigned him. He would look at me with shining eyes whenever I gave him a task and he always did it perfectly.”

She sighed. “I wasn’t in the habit of punishing my bodyslaves like most Mistresses—or in the habit of using them sexually. I just expected them to do their assigned duties and if they didn’t, they were sold. The system worked well and I told myself I was content. But the way Joren looked at me… She shook her head. He was so young—too young, I thought, for me. But he served me so beautifully and looked at me so longingly that eventually I took him to my bed.”

Mistress Anarrah closed her eyes, a look of bliss coming over her face.

“And that was where I learned how desperately he truly wanted to be of service. I only let him massage me at first…but then I taught him what I liked and how I liked it done.” She laughed. “He was a very enthusiastic student.”

Lizabeth felt a smile tugging at the corners of her own mouth.

“To hear him talk, he’s still very enthusiastic about, er, serving you.”

“It gives him great pleasure,” Lady Anarrah said, nodding. “And it gives me pleasure to be served with such love and devotion. But make no mistake about it, my dear…” She raised one finger as though making her point. “Being submissive does not mean being weak. It takes a great deal of courage to give yourself completely—body, mind, and soul—to another person.”

“I guess I can see that,” Lizabeth acknowledged, nodding.

“Males—especially those from cultures where they are dominant—like to project a tough image,” Mistress Anarrah said. “But the male ego is fragile and their fear of rejection is strong—almost crippling at times. Do you have any idea of the level of bravery it takes for one of them to offer himself to you? What if you don’t want him?” She shook her head. “Think of the pain and shame and humiliation such a rejection would bring! Only the bravest and most self-assured male is secure enough in his masculinity to give himself to a woman and call her ‘Mistress.’ To love her and devote his life to serving and protecting her.”

“You know, I never thought of it like that,” Lizabeth murmured.

“It took me some time to come to the realization as well,” Mistress Anarrah said, nodding. “And to realize how very brave my Joren was—not only in giving himself to me but in defending me as well. I remember one night, walking home from a benefit concert, we were set upon—attacked by a band of disaffected males.”

“Disaffected males?” Lizabeth asked, frowning.

“Angry ex-slaves,” Mistress Anarrah clarified. “It will probably come as no surprise to you that there are many males on Yonnie Six who resent the social system we have there.”

“With females being dominant and males being mostly slaves? Yeah, that wouldn’t go over too well on my world either,” Lizabeth said dryly. “So they attacked you?”

“They did.” Anarrah looked at Lizabeth seriously. “They tried to rape me and kill me. But Joren stopped them.” She shook her head, her voice sinking low. “I never saw anyone fight like that. It was like he was fighting for his own life, not just mine. He nearly got killed in the process himself, but he kept them off me until help could arrive. After that, I knew.”

“Knew what?” Lizabeth asked, fascinated despite herself.

“I knew that I loved him—that I wanted him as more than just a bodyslave,” Anarrah said simply. “That I wanted him and only him for the rest of my life.”

“But—” Lizabeth began, and then stopped herself.

“But what, my dear? Go on—ask whatever is on your mind.”

“It’s just…didn’t your, uh, age difference ever cause any problems?” Lizabeth asked in a rush. “I mean, didn’t you worry that Joren would want a younger woman eventually?”

“The thought crossed my mind from time to time,” Mistress Anarrah admitted. “But our connection goes beyond the physical. Joren has never once been unfaithful to me, nor I to him—even after we moved away from Yonnie Six in order to be together.”

“But…I thought you were already together on Yonnie Six,” Lizabeth objected.

“Oh, we were—as Mistress and bodyslave. But I wanted more than that with my darling Joren. Of course, one can keep such relationships secret but I didn’t want to hide my love. I had heard of this place…of the Tower.” She made a graceful motion, encompassing the blue-gray stone structure around them. “I gave up a successful law practice to come here and study and then to teach, all so that Joren and I wouldn’t have to hide our love.” She smiled at Lizabeth. “And I have never regretted it, my dear. Not for an instant.”

“That’s beautiful,” Lizabeth murmured and she couldn’t help remembering how Lone had faced down the angry Friezens to keep her safe—how he had been shot protecting her.

“I like to think it’s a lovely story,” Mistress Anarrah said, nodding. “But I didn’t tell it to you for no reason. There is a lesson for you in there as well.”

“You want me to let Lone, uh, serve me?” Lizabeth asked hesitantly.

“Not just serve you—adore you. Worship you. You’re his goddess, my dear—revel in your beauty and your feminine power and let him worship you as such. Whether that worship takes the form of servicing your needs in bed, or simply tying your leg ribbons.” She winked at Lizabeth. “Remember I told you there was a trick to keeping them tied?”

“Letting your Novice tend to them, I’m guessing,” Lizabeth said dryly.

“Exactly.” The other woman smiled at her. “Ah—I think I hear our Novices coming back now. Let’s be hard at work when they come in.”

Lizabeth bent over the book of Yonnite tort reform obediently but inside she was wondering. Could Mistress Anarrah be right? Could it be that Lone wasn’t just playing a part?

But that was ridiculous, wasn’t it? He was much too young for her—she’d been down this road before and it only led to heartache. Still, at the very least, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to play along a little. To pretend to be the Mistress she was supposed to be and let Lone do more for her, as he seemed to want to…

“Mistress, I’ve got some ice for your lip. May I tend your injury?”

Lizabeth looked up at him, feeling like she was seeing him in a different light. In the past, she would have thanked him but taken the ice and used it on herself. She would have said, “Don’t worry about me, Lone—I can manage just fine.” Because that was how she’d been conditioned by society to be. She was a liberated, independent, successful woman—a self-sufficient woman. I’m an adult—I’m my own person—I can handle things myself.

And yet, looking into Lone’s pale gray eyes, she knew he wanted to do this for her—he wanted to treat her wound and help heal her. Just like he wanted to help her and do for her in a thousand different other ways. Why was he like this? Why did he want so badly to do things for her—to serve her?

Years of pop-psychology crowded into her mind. Maybe his primary love language is acts of service? Maybe he’s trying to compensate in some way for never having a twin? Maybe he’s just one of those people who needs to be needed…

But did it really matter why Lone was this way? Why he longed to serve? It wasn’t like he was hurting anyone with his desire to obey her. As Lizabeth studied his big, muscular body and his earnest gray eyes, he reminded her of a knight on bended knee, waiting before his queen, willing and ready to serve and protect her from any danger.

Not that I ever thought of myself as a queen—or a goddess, she thought dryly. But even if she wasn’t either of those things, maybe it was time to act her part and be a proper Mistress.

“Yes, Lone,” she said, nodding to him. “You can treat my lip. Thank you.”

“It is my pleasure, Mistress,” he murmured, kneeling beside her chair so that he could reach her better.

He treated her lip with the crushed ice he had brought in a clean towel, carefully blotting the blood and waiting until the swelling was a bit less.

“How is it now, Mistress?” he asked. “Are you feeling any better?”

Lizabeth smiled at him. “Much. Thank you, Lone.” She touched her lip carefully with one fingertip and winced. “It’s still a little tender but better than it was.”

Lone studied her lip, seeming to hesitate for a moment.

“Mistress,” he began…and then stopped himself.

“What is it Lone? You have something to say?” she asked.

“I just wish…wish that I might heal you completely,” Lone murmured.

Lizabeth frowned. “But how could you? I thought only Blood Kindred could heal—and they only heal their mates, right?”

“True, but maybe you have heard of a healing compound developed aboard the Mother Ship by Yipper the Tolleg surgeon?”

“No, I haven't—what kind of healing compound?” Lizabeth asked.

“The kind that can be taken by any male Kindred who wishes to have the same healing abilities as a Blood Kindred,” Lone said. “The ability to heal the female…they care for.”

Lizabeth started to bite her lip…and then winced.

“Are you telling me you’ve had this compound?”

He nodded. “I have. And if you’ll allow me to kiss and lick your lip for just a bit, I believe I can heal your wound completely.”

Lizabeth’s heart was already starting to pound. She remembered how much better her red and swollen nipples had felt after he sucked them—was the compound he had taken the reason his tongue was so soothing?

“But why would you take the compound in the first place, Lone?” she asked. “I thought…thought you weren’t involved with anyone.”

“I’m not. I took it for you, Mistress,” he murmured. “On the chance that I might one day be able to help you or heal you.”

“Well…” Lizabeth took a deep breath. “It seems now is your chance. Yes, Lone—you may heal my lip.”

“Thank you, Mistress.” Leaning towards her he cupped her face in his big, warm hands and pulled her to him. Lizabeth closed her eyes as she felt his tongue—warm and soft and gentle—sliding over her hurt lower lip. She couldn’t help the sudden rush of heat she felt when he sucked it gently into his mouth, kissing her tenderly as though he wanted to do nothing else in the world.

“Lone,” she whispered at last, when he drew back. They looked at each other for a moment, gazes locked, and then Lizabeth threaded her fingers through his thick, dark hair and drew him in again for another kiss—this one not so gentle.

Lone’s mouth was hungry this time—urgent with the same desire she felt building inside herself. Gods, she shouldn’t be doing this but it felt so good—so right! So—

“Ahem.” The sound of someone clearing their throat brought Lizabeth back to reality with a thud. Drawing away from Lone, she looked up and saw that Karx was standing over them.

“What do you want?” Lone gave the Mistress Superior’s Novice an unfriendly look. “I was healing my Mistress.”

The other male’s eyes flashed and he scowled at Lone.

“Didn’t look like any fucking healing I’ve ever seen. Anyway, I’ve come to take you to your mandatory deportment class. Mistress Superior’s orders.”

“What?” Lizabeth was instantly suspicious. “You can’t take Lone away from me—I need him here to help me with my studies.”

“Oh, he’s not going alone, Mistress—you’re summoned too,” Karx growled. “You’re the one as has to train him, after all. Under the Mistress Superior’s supervision, of course.”

“Go on, my dear,” Mistress Anarrah said, smiling. “I was about to wrap up class for today—it’s nearly dinner time after all and you’ve done wonderfully well. We can resume again tomorrow.”

“All right.” Lizabeth sighed and closed the heavy tort book she’d barely gotten to look at. “I guess we’ll go.”

“This way.” Karx jerked his bushy, bearded chin towards the doorway. “My Mistress is waiting for us.”

Lizabeth started to get up…and then realized the black ribbons around her calves and ankles were still untied. She had never fixed them after her tumble down the rolling staircase. She started to fix them herself…and then stopped.

“Wait a minute,” she said to Karx and then turned to Lone. “Lone, my ribbons have come untied again. Would you fix them, please?”

His eyes were half-lidded as he answered.

“Yes, Mistress. With the greatest pleasure.” Kneeling before her again, he took her left foot and placed it on the top of his thigh. Then he bent over her, reworking the ribbons carefully until he finished with a neat bow at the top of her knee. He did the same to the other ribbon and then bent to place a soft, hot kiss against the top of Lizabeth’s thigh. When he straightened up, his gray eyes were half-lidded. “There, Mistress—you should be all right now.”

Lizabeth felt her breath catch in her throat at that look in his eyes.

“Yes, Lone,” she managed to say. “Thank you.”

“Are the two of you coming or not? My Mistress does not like being kept waiting,” Karx growled.

“We’re coming,” Lizabeth said, at last breaking away from her Novice’s intense gaze. “Come Lone—we’d better go.”

“As you wish, Mistress,” he answered, rising gracefully to his feet.

“I’ll see the two of you at dinner tonight,” Lady Anarrah said, smiling. “Have a lovely time.”

Privately, Lizabeth thought that if they were having a private class with the sour and contentious Mistress Superior, a “lovely time” was not in the cards for her and Lone. But there was nothing they could do but follow Karx out of Mistress Anarrah’s vast law library and down the twisting stone corridor again.

Chapter Fifteen

Lone could still taste her mouth—could still feel the way she trembled against him when he kissed her lip and healed her. And then he had been allowed to fix her ribbons and stroke her lovely legs…Gods, his cock was throbbing for release inside the loose black trousers he wore but it was a pleasurable kind of ache. A sexual need born of his love for his lady and he wouldn’t have traded it for a dozen releases.

He followed her down the corridor, feasting his eyes on her lush behind, as Karx led them to yet another part of the Tower. This area seemed to be sacrosanct to the Mistress Superior herself. At least, it was much fancier than the rest of the rooms and corridors he had seen so far. The walls were rich with mineral deposits—streaks of precious metals and gems worn smooth by centuries of water rushing against them until they had been drained and polished to a high shine.

But there was one area—down at the end of the hallway—where the shining wall was covered by a large, unsightly tarp. It flapped noisily against the wall, which was what drew Lone’s attention to it in the first place.

Frowning, he pointed. “What’s that?”

Karx turned his head, a scowl on his bearded face.

“Not any business of yours, Novice. Now come—my lady awaits.”

They passed the tarp and went around a curving corner and at last came to a black door bound in bronze. There was an elaborately scripted plaque on it reading, Mistress Superior.

“Enter,” Karx said, swinging the door open. “Stay here in the main greeting area—I’ll go fetch my Mistress.”

They walked into a kind of sitting room and looked around. Though all the rooms in the Tower were beautifully decorated, this particular space wouldn’t have been out of place in a palace, Lone thought. There were richly carved couches with scrolled arms upholstered in some kind of expensive-looking fabric—possibly Cambrian silk—and a thick Tishan rug worked in dark reds and blues and golds covered the flagstones. Pricy works of art—many by artists he recognized—were scattered around the room and rich tapestries were hung on the walls.

Looking up, he scanned the ceiling. The glittering chandelier hanging above, spreading a golden, dappled pattern of light and shadows over the opulent room, appeared to be made of gold and platinum. And unless Lone was very much mistaken, the large, sparkling crystals hanging from it weren’t crystals at all but diamonds.

To Lone, it looked like the Mistress Superior had created her own little kingdom here—he just wondered how much it had cost her to outfit her private chambers in such lavish style.

Apparently, Lizabeth was having the same thoughts.

“It’s gorgeous in here,” she murmured to Lone, looking around. “Wonder how much all this cost?”

“Good question, Mistress,” Lone murmured back. “It can’t have been cheap to transport it either. I was under the impression that the Tower was supposed to be a place of learning—not extravagance.”

“The Mistress Superior, Lady Verlandah,” Karx’s rough voice announcing his Mistress’s entrance interrupted their whispered conversation.

They turned to see the Mistress Superior wearing her white gown without the elaborately embroidered cape-vest over it. Her dark nipples poked prominently from the holes cut in the silky white fabric and the mound of her pussy was on display as well, under the high slit in the gown. Lone noticed that she appeared to have an elaborate tattoo done in golden ink where her public hair would have been if she hadn’t removed it. Apparently she felt the need to have every part of herself and her surroundings adorned.

“Ah, Mistress Paige,” she said to Lizabeth, inclining her head gracefully. “Do make yourself at home and take off your modesty vest. We are quite private here.”

Lone saw Lizabeth’s eyes dart to Karx and saw her bite her lower lip pensively. He knew exactly what she was thinking—she didn’t want to be put on display the way the Mistress Superior was. Didn’t want to expose her nipples and pussy around a strange man. Still, she had already been forced to do as much the day before when he took the oath of loyalty to her and had given her the kiss of obeisance. Lone knew it would make her uncomfortable to do it again, but she would have to in order to keep the peace with the Mistress Superior.

His guesses were right. In the end, Lizabeth unclasped the long black vest- cloak and Lone drew it down her arms smoothly, folding it neatly and placing it over the back of one of the plush couches. He frowned as he saw her exposed—were her breasts looking fuller than usual? If she had a needing attack here in front of the Mistress Superior things could get awkward.

“Now, then—let’s get comfortable, shall we?” Mistress Verlandah settled herself on a couch opposite and studied Lizabeth speculatively with her iron-gray eyes. They looked as hard and cold as flint, to Lone. “Come, Karx,” she said and snapped her fingers at her Novice who was still standing silently beside her. “I require pleasure. Why do you make me wait?”

A flash of some complicated emotion went through the Friezen’s dark eyes—something like lust mixed with resentment, Lone thought. But he only growled, “As my lady wishes,” and sank to his knees before her.

Mistress Verlandah spread her thighs casually and motioned for him to get between them. Without a word, Karx positioned himself between her legs and began to lap at her pussy in a way that was both hungry and angry at the same time.

“Mmmm…that’s better.” The Mistress Superior purred with pleasure. From the couch cushions she produced a long, thin, black riding crop and used it to swat at her Novice’s backside lazily. “A little slower, Karx—this is not a race, you know,” she remarked. Then she turned her attention to Lizabeth, whose face was impassive. “Do have a seat, Mistress Paige,” she said.

“Thank you.” Lizabeth sank down on the opposite couch, her thighs pressed together and her arms crossed over her breasts.

Despite her blank expression Lone could tell she was bothered—her cheeks were a dull red which denoted embarrassment to him. Lizabeth might enjoy letting him help her with her needs when they were alone together, but she wasn’t the kind of person who got pleasure from watching other people performing acts that ought to be kept private in public.

Lone tried not to watch what was happening on the couch opposite them but it was difficult, especially since he could scarcely control his envy. He couldn’t help wishing that Lizabeth might order him to worship her pussy the way Karx was worshiping his Mistress’s. The last time he had tasted her had been all too brief—barely a kiss before he was forced to stop. He longed to spend hours worshipping her with his mouth and tongue—bringing her pleasure and drinking her sweet juices right from the source.

As though she had read his mind, Mistress Verlandah motioned at Lizabeth with her riding crop.

“Well? Why do you not have your slave service you?” she demanded. “It’s extremely rude not to when your host is being serviced by her slave!”

“I thought they were Novices—not slaves,” Lizabeth protested uneasily.

Mistress Verlandah waved her objection away airily.

“Yes, well—most of us come from Yonnie Six here at the Tower,” she said, swatting at Karx’s backside again with the long riding crop. “We know what males truly are—no matter what we call them here. Slaves. That’s all they’re fit for—isn’t that right, my love?” She swatted Karx again who licked faster, his broad, hairy shoulders set and angry.

“I don’t feel that way about Lone,” Lizabeth protested. “He’s more than just a slave or my Novice. He’s a friend—my best friend. And…and I care for him deeply.”

Lone felt his heart throb with hope when he heard her speak like that but he tried not to show it on his face. Instead, he stood impassively beside her, his arms crossed behind his back, waiting for orders.

“Oh, please.” Mistress Verlandah made a derisive and rather unlovely snorting sound. “Don’t tell me you’ve fallen into the same trap as Anarrah—please don’t say you’re ‘in love’ with your Novice.”

Lizabeth’s face went red though her features remained calm.

“I…never said that,” she protested. “I just meant that Lone is very dear to me. I don’t want to use him like a slave.”

“What if he desires to be treated and used as a slave?” The Mistress Superior lifted one eyebrow at her. “Have you ever thought of that? Part of his loyalty oath was to entreat you to use him and he didn’t appear insincere to me when he spoke the words.”

Lizabeth’s eyes flicked up to Lone’s and he met her gaze steadily, letting some of the heat he felt fill his eyes. Oh yes, he would be more than happy to be used by her. Gods, would he!

Lizabeth cleared her throat and looked away.

“I don’t understand your emphasis on ‘using’ someone here,” she said coolly to the Mistress Superior. “Why is it so important to you to dominate your, uh, slave?”

“Because sex—really good sex—is all about power,” Mistress Verlandah said promptly. “Who has it…who can get it…who is willing to give it up and be powerless. Without the power play, what is sex? A few pumps, a squirt and a tickle. Boring.”

“Sex doesn’t have to be all about power—it’s not boring if love is involved,” Lizabeth countered. “If you truly care about your partner—”

“Don’t start that sniveling love talk if you please,” The Mistress Superior snapped. “And don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing—you’re delaying. Trying to keep me talking so I won’t notice that you’re being unspeakably rude by refusing to have your slave service you while mine services me.” She glared at Lizabeth. “I do not tolerate rudeness for long, Mistress Paige.”

Lizabeth hesitated again, looking up at Lone uncertainly.

She doesn’t want to treat me like a slave—treat me the way Mistress Verlandah is treating Karx, he realized. She doesn’t understand how much I want to do this. No matter how often I tell her that I long to taste her, she won’t truly see my pleasure in it until I show her.

“Mistress,” he growled softly, dropping to his knees before her. “I am yours. Use me.”

* * * * *

Lizabeth looked at him, sitting at her feet and felt a powerful emotion sweeping through her. It wasn’t just the needing this time—though she could feel her breasts beginning to fill again. It was desire—desire to take what she wanted with no apologies. To let Lone worship her as he truly seemed to want to.

“You’re his goddess, my dear,” Mistress Anarrah had said to her. “Let him worship you as he longs to.”

Power, she thought, eyeing him…seeing how the big, muscular male body was waiting just for her. Lone was so strong he could break her in half with one hand. Yet he chose to be gentle—chose to wait for her word. Maybe there was something to this Mistress thing after all. Well, whether there was or not, she had to do something to appease Mistress Verlandah.

“Lone” she said, looking him in the eye. “Come here and give me the kiss of obeisance.”

His gray eyes were half-lidded with lust.

“With the greatest pleasure, Mistress,” he growled softly.

Positioning himself between her legs, he leaned forward and sucked each throbbing nipple in turn, drawing each tight peak fully into his mouth and swirling his tongue around and around and around, making Lizabeth bite back a moan. God, she could feel her breasts beginning to fill with nectar but before she could tell Lone to suck it out, he was already between her legs, spreading her wide with his big, warm hands.

Despite Lone’s obvious eagerness, he didn’t dive right in. He laid soft, hot kisses up and down her thighs first, paying special attention to the ticklish undersides of her knees and her outer pussy mound. His hot breath and the feel of his scratchy cheeks against her tender inner thighs was making her hotter and hotter, Lizabeth found. God, when would he get to the main event?

As though hearing her internal question, Lone turned his attention to her slit, placing several hot, gentle kisses up and down the length of it, sending shivers of pleasure and anticipation down Lizabeth’s spine. It was as though he knew exactly what she needed and was determined to put off giving it to her until she was just about crazy, she thought.

“Lone…” she protested, panting, when he sucked lightly at her outer pussy lips, taking each into his mouth to tease her without touching her inner folds. He was making Lizabeth moan and squirm on the couch—driving her crazy.

“Lone,” she gasped again. “I need…need you to…”

“To pay you greater deference?” he asked, looking up at last, a little smile tugging at the corners of his sensuous mouth. “Yes, Mistress—that was, of course, my intent. Could you spread your legs a little wider, please? I need to be able to kiss your inner pussy to show you the greatest deference possible.”

Lizabeth felt her breath catch in her chest and thought about protesting that he didn’t actually have to kiss her inner pussy—the last time he had mainly kissed her on the outside with his tongue darting in just a little to lick at her inner folds. But wasn’t that what she wanted him to do—what she needed him to do? Didn’t she long to feel his hot mouth caressing her folds and lapping slowly over her aching clit? God, yes.

“Of course you may kiss my inner pussy, Lone,” she murmured, parting her legs a bit more for him. “It is, after all, the only correct way to show your obeisance.”

“Yes, Mistress.” Lone was eyeing her hungrily and when she finally spread for him, he pushed in her thighs, his broad shoulders splitting her even wider. Then he framed her pussy with his big, warm hands and spread her outer lips with his thumbs, revealing her slippery pink interior.

Lizabeth bit back a gasp.

“Lone,” she protested, feeling uncomfortably exposed. After all, he had never said anything about actually spreading her open.

“Just a kiss, Mistress,” he murmured, looking up at her. “Just a kiss to show my devotion to you.”

Lizabeth nibbled her bottom lip. God, her whole body felt like it was on fire with shame and need! She had never felt so exposed before—or so hot.

“All right, Lone,” she murmured at last, thrusting her hips forward. “Just a kiss.”

“Yes, my lady.” Holding her eyes with his own, Lone leaned in and placed a hot, sucking kiss over her exposed inner pussy. Lizabeth sighed with pleasure as she felt the heat of his mouth enveloping her and the warm slide of his tongue against her throbbing clit. Her breasts began to ache and she felt the trickle of sticky nectar leaking from her tight nipples and still the kiss seemed to go on and on, as though Lone never wanted the moment to end.

At last he pulled back from her, his lips shiny with her juices.

“Delicious.” His voice was a low growl. “Did I bring you pleasure, my Mistress? Did I show the proper respect?”

“You did…very well, Lone,” Lizabeth whispered a bit breathlessly. “I’m very pleased with you.”

“If you’re so very pleased, why do you not have your slave—excuse me, your Novice—give you the kiss of pleasure?” Mistress Verlandah asked, smiling lazily. “It’s like the kiss of obeisance but he doesn’t stop until you come all over his face.”

Lizabeth started to object but the fire that Lone’s kiss had started inside her was raging out of control. She found that she liked being worshipped like a goddess and after all, she had to play her part here at the Tower. She couldn’t let The Mistress Superior suspect that she and Lone weren’t really a couple.

Feeling justified, she crooked her finger at Lone, gesturing him to come closer again.

“Novice,” she said, her voice coming out only a little breathless, “I require you to give me the kiss of pleasure.”

Lone’s eyes flashed hotly.

“Yes, my Mistress,” he growled. “Going to make you come—come all over my face.”

Leaning forward, he scooped her ass into his hands, pulling her closer to the edge of the couch as though her pelvis was a bowl of water and he was dying for a drink. Then, holding her eyes with his, he dived in, licking this time instead of kissing.

Lizabeth moaned as she felt his hot tongue travel all the way from the bottom of her slit, up to bathe her aching clit before finally reaching the top of her mound. Then he did it again… and again and again.

A gasp was torn from her throat and her pussy throbbed as he lapped her, dragging the flat of his hot tongue over her sensitive flesh as though he was trying to gather every last drop of her honey. Then he sucked the little button of her clit into his mouth and began to stroke it with just the tip of his tongue, making Lizabeth gasp and jerk against him. Oh God, it felt so good! Like he was electrocuting the most tender, sensitive parts of her with pleasure. How could she stand it? It was too much—too intense. And yet, she never wanted it to stop.

Without knowing quite how it happened, her fingers found their way into his thick, black hair and she found she was tugging at him, trying to position him exactly where she wanted him. He lapped her eagerly and then looked up, his eyes filled with lust.

“Yes, Mistress?” he murmured. “Is there something you require?”

“Are you enjoying yourself, Lone?” she asked, her voice husky with lust. “Do you enjoy eating my pussy?” She could scarcely believe she was saying such things but Lizabeth felt like she was in the deep end now, doing and saying things she would never have done or said in her real, everyday life.

“Yes, Mistress. And I love your hands in my hair, guiding me,” Lone growled hoarsely. “Show me where you need me. Use me to give you pleasure.” Then he dived in again, lapping her as though he could never get enough.

“Oh, God, Lone…” His hot words and the way he was licking her open pussy so sweetly was almost too much for Lizabeth. She had never dreamed of being in this position with a hot, muscular man between her thighs desperate to bring her pleasure. And yet, now that she found herself here—she might as well take full advantage of it.

Her nipples were leaking freely now, sticky, shining trails of nectar sliding down from her aching peaks to stain the white gown she wore. But Lizabeth didn’t care anymore. She only knew she was close to coming—that she needed to come.

“Lone…” she gasped, gripping his hair even tighter and swirling her hips to get the full effect of his talented tongue. “Oh Lone, yes…so close…so close!”

He looked up again, his thumb momentarily taking the place of his tongue.

“Then come for me, Mistress…come all over my face,” he growled. Hooking his arms over her thighs, he split her even wider and lapped at her open pussy with a hunger and a passion Lizabeth had never dreamed was inside him. Throwing back her head, she gave in to the pleasure of his mouth on her, closing her eyes tightly as he lapped and sucked and teased her throbbing clit until she was coming…coming so hard that her pussy contracted hungrily around the emptiness inside it.

God if only he had the sex toy with him. Or better yet, if he used his cock on me. Need to be filled…need to be fucked…

Lizabeth caught herself up short as she realized what she was thinking. They weren’t alone in this room, she reminded herself. Mistress Verlandah was watching everything they did. God, what was wrong with her? She was writhing on the couch with Lone’s face buried between her thighs and they had an audience.

Opening her eyes, she saw with some discomfort, that The Mistress Superior wasn’t the only one watching. Karx was sitting back on his heels, his dark eyes taking in the way Lone stayed between her legs, lapping hungrily at her pussy and watching the nectar leak from her breasts.

“Lone,” she murmured, tapping him on the shoulder and trying to sit up. “Lone, I…I’m finished. I came. It’s all right—you can stop now.”

At first he seemed extremely reluctant to stop but finally her tone seemed to get through to him.

“Mistress?” He looked up at her, his gray eyes burning, his mouth shiny with her juices. In that hot gaze, Lizabeth thought she saw the Dark Twin side of his nature staring out at her again. “Gods, you taste so fucking good,” he growled. “Never want to stop eating your pussy.”

“You can, ah, give me the kiss of pleasure again later,” Lizabeth promised him. “For now, we have to get ready for dinner.” She made herself look up at Mistress Verlandah. “Isn’t that right? It’s almost time for dinner and we need time to go back to our rooms and change.”

Actually, what she was dying to do was to have Lone suck the nectar from her aching breasts and use the black sex toy on her again. Her pussy felt acutely empty after the intense orgasm he had given her. She needed to be filled!

But Mistress Verlandah only grinned lazily at her.

“Don’t worry about your clothing, my dear—I have banqueting garments to fit both you and your Novice here in my chambers. You’re putting on such an entertaining show—don’t stop now. Karx, here, is especially interested in the way your breasts appear to be leaking. In his culture, that’s a sign of increased fertility. Is it in yours as well?”

“My lady’s breasts are none of your Goddess-damned business,” Lone growled, rising to stand protectively in front of Lizabeth and shield her from the other male’s gaze.

“Hmm, he’s a possessive one, your Novice, isn’t he?” Mistress Verlandah remarked. “You know, Mistress Paige, when I brought the two of you here I thought to give him a lesson on how to be a proper slave or Novice. But it seems to me, he doesn’t have a problem acting his role. It’s you who’ve learned rather more about being a Mistress during our little session, I think. And maybe you learned a bit about yourself as well?”

Lizabeth refused to dignify that question with an answer, although she was secretly wondering the same thing.

“I thank you for the instruction but we really have to get ready for dinner,” she said firmly, peering around Lone’s broad back to speak to The Mistress Superior. “Could you please give us the clothing you spoke of so we can make our way to the banquet hall?”

“Certainly. Karx—get the clothes.” Mistress Verlandah snapped her fingers. At once her Novice hopped up and went into the other room to fetch the clothing. He was only gone a minute but it gave Lizabeth ample time to wonder what had gotten into her, letting Lone go down on her like that, and also to feel how very miserable her full breasts and empty pussy were making her.

After a moment Karx returned and handed the garments to Lone.

“Thank you,” Lizabeth said. “Do you have a dressing room we can get dressed in?”

“A dressing room? After the show you just put on?” Mistress Verlandah demanded incredulously. “Certainly not. You’re not ashamed of your body are you, Mistress Paige? No woman in the world who had swum in the cleansing pools need have any body shame.”

“My Mistress simply does not want your Novice staring at her,” Lone growled. “Here, Mistress,” he added to Lizabeth. “I will shield you so you can change in privacy.”

“Thank you, Lone.” Lizabeth nodded gratefully as he turned his broad back and crossed his arms over his chest, shielding her while she shimmied out of the nectar-stained white gown and into a black mesh one, much like the one she’d worn the night before. The difference was that this one had a deep V-neckline that showed the tops of her breasts. But since the rest of her was clearly visible through the black mesh, it hardly mattered.

Her nipples were still leaking and her breasts ached fiercely. She could hardly wait to get out of there and find a little privacy to have Lone ease the fullness.

Lone changed as well, when she was finished, putting on the tight black leather trousers with the mesh crotch. Then he turned to her.

“Shall we go to the banquet hall, Mistress?”

“I think that would be a good idea.” Lizabeth turned to the Mistress Superior. “Thank you for your, er, hospitality. I guess I’ll see you at dinner.”

“All right but since I’m allowing you to leave my presence early, you had better be on time to the banquet tonight or you will regret it!” Mistress Verlandah pointed a finger at them. “I won’t tolerate tardiness on your part again. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” Lizabeth felt a rush of irritation at being treated like a naughty child late for school. It seemed to her that from the moment they had come to the Tower the Mistress Superior had been either berating, insulting, or manipulating them.

If she hadn’t made me do it, I never would have gone so far over the line with Lone, she thought, though inside she knew that probably wasn’t the truth. The needing, as much as the protocols of the Tower, were to blame for her new and much-too-intimate relationship with her assistant.

“Well, go on then. We’re right behind you.” Mistress Verlandah made a bored shooing gesture with one hand. “I just want one more orgasm before dinner. Karx,” she snapped at her Novice. “On your knees and service me now.”

“Yes, my Lady.” The Friezen’s voice was thick with resentment but as they left the Mistress Superior’s chambers, he was already between her thighs lapping industriously at her pussy.

Chapter Sixteen

“Well that was an experience,” Lone murmured as soon as they were outside and the door to Mistress Verlandah’s chambers was securely shut.

“Yes, it…it certainly was.” Lizabeth’s voice was low and strained. Lone frowned and leaned down to get a closer look at her.

“Mistress, are you well?”

“No!” Lizabeth exclaimed. She was keeping her voice low but the look in her eyes was intense. “I need…Lone, my breasts hurt.”

Lone was instantly chagrinned. In the haste of getting away from the Mistress Superior, he had forgotten how his lady’s nipples were leaking which meant her breasts were full of nectar

“Of course—the fullness. Forgive me,” he said swiftly. “Should we go back to our room before dinner then?”

“I can’t wait until we get to our room.” Lizabeth’s face was white and strained. Clearly she was in a great deal of pain. “Please, Lone—I need help now.”

“But the Mistress Superior and her Novice may be coming out at any moment,” Lone pointed out. “Depending on how long it takes her to, um, come to completion. You don’t want them to see us—see me sucking your sweet breasts, do you, Mistress?”

“I almost don’t care if they see us,” Lizabeth moaned. “My breasts are so full it feels like they’re going to explode!”

“I think you would care later, after you’d had time to regret it,” Lone said, frowning. Then he saw something at the end of the hallway and had an idea. “Here, Lizabeth—over here,” he said, taking her by the hand and leading her to the vast tarp which covered a large portion of the wall.

“What’s this?” she asked blankly, looking at the tarp.

“Cover,” Lone said grimly. “Come on—let’s duck behind it and I’ll be able to service you without anyone knowing.”

They got behind the stiff, rustling tarp and found there was plenty of room behind it because someone had hollowed out a large section of the wall that it was hiding. Lone had a moment to wonder who would do such a thing and why but then Lizabeth gave another little moan of pain which tugged at his heart.

“Here, Mistress—let me help you,” he murmured. Luckily the black mesh gown the Mistress Superior had given Lizabeth to wear had a low neckline—low enough for him to simply pull it down, out of the way so that he could get to her swollen breasts.

He molded his lips around the step of her right nipple and sucked hard. As the first sweet gush of nectar filled his mouth, he heard Lizabeth give a little sigh of relief. A warm feeling rushed through him—a deep pleasure in being able to heal and help and pleasure her. Sucking her breasts wasn’t quite as intoxicating as eating her pussy, but it was still intensely pleasurable and Lone felt his shaft, which had never really gone down from earlier when he was lapping her wet folds, get rock-hard. He savored the sweet, deep ache of sexual need as he finished with her right breast and started on the left.

“Lone…oh, Lone…” she whispered, her small, soft fingers carding restlessly through his hair as he bent to service her. “Mmm, your mouth on me feels so good.”

He looked up, releasing her nipple for just a moment.

“I’m glad, Mistress,” he murmured. “Glad to ease your pain and bring you pleasure.”

“And…” Lizabeth hesitated a moment, her cheeks getting red. “And you really don’t mind? Sucking my breasts? And…and what I asked you to do back in Mistress Verlandah’s rooms?” She ducked her head as she asked the question, as though she couldn’t look at him while she asked it.

“Do I mind?” Lone could scarcely believe the question. “Lizabeth, look at me,” he said seriously, lifting her chin so that they were eye-to-eye. “Going down on you—eating your sweet pussy—was one of the greatest sexual pleasures of my life. I’m not lying or exaggerating to make you feel better—I’m telling you the truth.”

She shook her head. “I don’t understand. Maybe because my ex wasn’t…wasn’t that into it. But how could it be that great for you?”

Lone wished he could explain it to her—the way he felt when he was between her legs. The way he wanted her orgasm the way he wanted his own next breath.

“How could it not be wonderful for me?” he asked softly. “The feel of you pressing against me, tugging my hair to get me closer…the salty-sweet taste of your pussy…the soft little sounds of pleasure you make when you’re close to coming…” He shook his head. “Gods, I can’t imagine anything better.”

“You’re amazing,” Lizabeth breathed and kissed him roughly.

Lone returned the kiss with interest, feeding her the taste of herself and hearing her moan into his mouth as he stroked her tongue with his. At last, though, she pulled back.

“Shouldn’t be doing this,” she panted. “We…we’ll regret it once we get back to the Mother Ship.”

“Not me,” Lone told her. “The only thing I would regret is not being able to touch you and taste you anymore, Lizabeth.”

“Oh…” She looked suddenly stricken but Lone only kissed her again and went back to her left breast, making her moan and gasp. Better that than hear her say again how they had to end things when they were done here at the Tower.

Long before he finished with her, he saw her shifting her hips restlessly and she was nibbling her lower lip—a sure sign of discomfort and uncertainty. Clearly she was in need and debating with herself on whether she ought to ask for his help or not.

“Is it the emptiness, Mistress?” he murmured, pulling back from her breast. “Do you need to be filled?”

“Yes…” Lizabeth admitted. “God, yes. But we can’t—”

Suddenly a door banged open and shut and footsteps sounded down the hall.

“…very irritating,” Mistress Superior’s voice could be heard saying. “There’s something going on with those two. I don’t know what it is but I don’t like it.”

“Maybe it’s time for Mistress Paige to visit Mistress Goldahh in the Meditation Grotto,” Karx’s rough voice suggested.

“No, don’t be silly, Karx! That might arouse suspicion. And her fee is being paid by a third party—I don’t think it would be worth the risk.”

“As you say, Mistress,” he growled. “Are you going to use the queening bench again this night?”

“What else do I ever use, Karx? You think I would use the rocker and let your pathetic little cock inside me?” she sneered.

There was a moment of strangled silence and then Karx snarled, “You wouldn’t dare to speak to me so if we were among my people instead of yours.”

“But we are not among those ignorant wretches you call your people—the ones who won’t even accept you into their presence anymore because I’ve trained you to act as a proper male should.”

“Have a care, Mistress. I am not like those other pathetic males you took as slaves in the past. I stay with you by choice.” Karx’s voice was full of malice and chronic anger. To Lone he sounded like a male on the edge—a volcano ready to blow. But Mistress Verlandah didn’t appear to notice the danger her Novice represented at all.

“By choice?” she snorted derisively. “What choice do you have? It’s either the Tower or that frozen waste-land down below the mountains. Would you really want to go back to being a ‘gray-face’ even if they’d have you? No—of course you wouldn’t,” she snapped before he could answer. “So let’s have no more backtalk. Come—I want to get to the banquet hall and be certain those two are there on time.”

“Wait.” Karx’s voice was very near now. “Did you see the tarp I put up over the treasure wall move?”

Lone sucked in a breath silently and stood with his back flat to the cold stone wall. From the corner of his eye, he saw Lizabeth doing the same. Gods, if they were found out…if the Mistress Superior knew they’d been listening in on her conversation with Karx…

“Don’t be foolish, Karx,” Mistress Verlandah snapped. “That’s just your guilty conscience talking. By the way, can you get any more gypsum-emeralds out of there? They fetched a pretty price the last time.”

“No, the vein is all played out,” Karx growled. “I’ll have to start on another wall soon.”

“We can’t do that,” Mistress Verlandah protested. “If you put tarps over all the walls leading to my chambers it will arouse suspicion!”

“Well, what do you expect me to do, Mistress?” he demanded, his voice getting fainter as they walked further away. “Do you think I can pull gold and gems out of my—”

But by then their voices had faded entirely and Lone let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

“Whew!” Lizabeth shook her head. “There’s a lot to unpack there.”

“And much of it has to do with us,” Lone pointed out. “Do you suppose it was you who they meant when they were talking about sending someone to the Meditation Grotto with Mistress Goldahh?”

“I don’t know but I do know we’ll be in trouble if we’re late tonight,” Lizabeth scooted out from behind the tarp carefully and Lone did the same. “Do you think you can get us to the banquet hall from here pretty quickly?” she asked.

Lone nodded. “There’s a corridor that Joren showed me the other day that runs right through the heart of the Tower—it leads everywhere.”

“Let’s find it and go then,” Lizabeth said urgently. “I don’t want to give the Mistress Superior any reason to be mad at us.”

“But what about your emptiness?” Lone protested. “Do you not need to be filled, Mistress?”

“I’ll have to worry about it later.” Lizabeth’s face was set in lines of grim determination. “Come on, Lone—let’s go!”

“As my lady wishes.” Taking her hand, Lone led her rapidly down the corridor, in search of the entrance to all-access passageway Joren had shown him. How they were going to deal with Lizabeth’s needing during the evening banquet he didn’t know—but he trusted her to have a plan. And right now they just needed to get there on time. “Come on,” he said, tugging her hand. “This way.”

Without a word of protest, Lizabeth followed.

* * * * *

Oh God, I can’t stand this! Lizabeth thought the emptiness inside had never been this bad before—not even the night before when Lone had serviced her with the long, thick phallus. She felt like she was dying—collapsing in on herself as the emptiness ate her from the inside out. Yet she had to endure the entire evening meal and pretend nothing was wrong. And she doubted that the Mistress Superior, who she saw sweeping into the banquet hall this moment, would allow her and Lone to leave early again.

Biting her lip, she surveyed the familiar stone hall with its many queening benches and a few rocking chairs set up. The Mistresses were already getting themselves arranged and she knew she and Lone would have to do the same.

“My Lady Paige, I have a spot for you right here.” The voice of the guard beside her startled her out of her musings.

“Oh, yes?” Turning, she saw that the man was pointing to one of the rocking-chair frames which Lone had been strapped into the night before.

“Yes, Mistress,” he said respectfully. “Is this to your liking?”

“Thank you.” Lizabeth nodded. “Yes it is.”

“Then I’ll have your Novice strapped into it at once,” the man said.

“No need—I can manage,” Lone told him. He got settled into the chair and leaned down to buckle the leather straps over his legs. Then he motioned for Lizabeth. “My Lady? Are you ready to sit?”

For a moment, Lizabeth’s eyes were fixed on the hard shaft straining against the black mesh at his crotch. God, he was so big and thick…she could just imagine that shaft sliding deep inside her, filling her up, easing the awful emptiness that filled her like a well of black water…

“Mistress?” Lone asked again and she realized she was just standing there, staring.

“Um…yes. Yes, I am. Thank you, Lone,” she said quickly.

This time she knew better than to try to sit on his knees. Carefully, she perched herself on his lap, taking care to sit well back so that her ass was directly over the thick, straining shaft.

The moment she positioned herself, she felt the mesh between them melt away and the heated ridge of his cock was rubbing against her bare pussy—which was extremely wet from all his earlier attention. This time instead of just seeing, she could feel how big he was against her—could feel how well he would fill her up. It was like offering food to a starving man but only letting him smell it, Lizabeth thought miserably. Like offering a cool drink of water to a woman dying of thirst but only allowing her one drop. It was torture.

Oh God, I don’t know how long I can take this!

She shifted, trying to get more comfortable, which drew a soft, strangled sound from Lone.

“Sorry,” she whispered to him. “I just…I can’t…” She shook her head, not knowing what to say.

“It’s all right, Mistress,” he murmured in her ear. “Forgive me if my, uh, state is making your seating arrangement uncomfortable. I can’t help growing hard when I feel you so warm and wet against me.”

“I’m not that wet,” Lizabeth protested indignantly. “I…I’m not.”

“You are,” he countered in a soft growl. “You’re so hot and wet I could slide right into you with no trouble at all, my Lady. But of course, I have promised not to do that.”

“Yes, I…I know you did.” Lizabeth bit her lip and shifted again. God, he felt so good against her! And the emptiness was almost more than she could stand. A soft, pained sound was drawn from her lips—something between a groan and a whimper, she thought—before she could stop it.

“Lizabeth—are you all right?” Lone’s voice in her ear was concerned this time rather than teasing.

“It…it’s the emptiness,” she confessed under her breath, aware that the other Mistresses were still getting seated and situated for the meal. “It’s really bad—I can hardly stand it.”

“I don’t think we’ll be allowed to go early tonight so I can service you with the phallus,” Lone murmured, echoing her own earlier thoughts. “Do you think you can wait until after Last Meal?”

“I don’t know.” Lizabeth took a deep breath, trying to get hold of herself. “God, it’s just so bad.”

“Take me inside you, then.” Lone’s voice was soft and matter-of-fact.

“What?” Lizabeth half turned her head to look back at him. “You know we can’t—”

“I won’t fuck you or come in you, Lizabeth—not without your permission,” he murmured. “And even if I did, I couldn’t bond you to me or make you pregnant—I’d need a twin to help me do that. But what you need now—what you crave—is something inside you, filling you up. Let me help you—there’s no other way.”

Lizabeth knew that he was right and yet she hesitated—torn between getting what she so desperately needed and doing something she knew would change her relationship with Lone forever. How could they go back to a normal working environment if she let him penetrate her? Just letting him suck her breasts during her first needing attack had nearly ended them. What would letting him fuck her do?

But he won’t actually be fucking me, she reminded herself. He’ll only slide inside me for a little while, just to help me ease the needing. That’s all and then after dinner maybe he can use the phallus on me again.

“Mistress?” Lone murmured and she realized she had been sitting there agonizing about her quandary while Lone waited patiently to hear her decision.

“All right,” she said at last. “But no, uh, thrusting and no coming inside me. Just…just slide yourself into me for a few minutes, just until the emptiness subsides.”

“As my lady wishes,” he promised quietly. “I will be inside you but I will not move in you or fill you with my seed.”

“You’re sure you can manage that?” Lizabeth asked, looking back at him anxiously. “I mean you haven’t, uh, had any kind of release in a while, have you? Isn’t it going to be hard—I mean difficult—for you to be inside me without, you know, letting go?”

“I can control myself, Lizabeth.” Lone spoke with quiet dignity. “If you ask me not to come in you, I won’t.”

The certainty in his voice finally convinced her.

“All right,” she said, trying not to moan with need. “All right then please—put it in me.”

“Rise up a little bit,” Lone instructed. “Then sit back down on my lap. I will guide my shaft inside you.”

“Yes…okay.” Lizabeth rose almost on tiptoe, bracing one hand on his muscular forearm. Lone used his other hand to grasp his shaft and as she came down again, Lizabeth felt the broad, blunt head of his cock rubbing against the outside of her pussy. With a little gasp, she widened her stance so that Lone could find her entrance. In a moment, she felt the wide tip of his shaft slide from the top of her slit, over her throbbing clit, and come to rest pressing against the opening of her pussy.

“Easy, my Lady,” he murmured behind her. “Come down on me now but slowly—your soft little pussy is very tight and I’m not small.”

He certainly wasn’t, Lizabeth thought. As she lowered herself onto him and felt the thick shaft sliding slowly into her she could feel her inner walls stretching to the limit to accommodate him. He was bigger than any sexual partner or toy she’d ever had inside her and at any other time having something so large inside her might have hurt. Now, however, all Lizabeth felt was a blessed relief. Finally she had something to hold on to!

It was a long, slow slide but finally she felt him bottom out inside her, the head of his cock kissing the mouth of her womb. It was all she could do not to throw back her head and moan with mingled pleasure and relief. God, he was so big and it felt so good to be filled completely. The emptiness was eased at last but Lizabeth shifted experimentally, trying to get him even deeper inside her. She could feel her inner muscles clench, almost as though she was milking him—as though her body was begging him to come in her, though she had expressly forbidden him to do so.

Lone gave a muffled groan from behind her.

“Gods, Mistress, you’re tight,” he ground out. His voice was a low, sexual growl and Lizabeth could feel him flexing inside her, his thick shaft throbbing deep in her pussy almost like a second heartbeat. “But if you keep shifting around like that I’m going to find it difficult to keep my promise and not flood your sweet pussy with my seed.”

“Sorry, Lone,” she whispered back. “Just…trying to get comfortable. You’re, uh, bigger than anyone I’ve ever been with.”

“Do Earth males not have adequate shafts then?” he asked, sounding surprised.

“Nothing like Kindred apparently,” Lizabeth murmured. “Unless you’re unusually well-endowed for your kind.”

“I believe I’m about average for a Kindred,” Lone remarked. “Maybe it’s just that you’re unusually tight.”

Lizabeth could scarcely believe they were having this conversation—talking almost like normal when he was buried to the hilt inside her.

“It’s probably just…just because I haven’t been with anyone in a long time,” she confessed. “Not for three of four years at least.” She let out a self-deprecating laugh. “I’m practically a virgin all over again, despite my age.”

“Your age has nothing to do with it,” Lone growled. “You’re beautiful, Lizabeth. And so warm and wet and tight inside—Gods, it’s almost like you’re milking me.”

“I’m not doing it on purpose—honestly,” Lizabeth protested.

She knew what he was talking about—she could feel her inner muscles clenching around him hungrily, begging for more—begging for what she had forbidden him to give her.

“It…it seems like my body has a mind of its own. Is…” She hesitated. “Is it making things too hard for you? I mean, making it hard for you not to come? Do…do you need to pull out?”

“I can bear anything you need me to bear, Mistress—pain or pleasure, I am yours to command for as long as you need me,” Lone murmured. “It’s all right—whatever you need from me, I can give to you. Just relax.”

“I’m trying,” Lizabeth told him. “It’s just, I’ve been dealing with this emptiness for so long—it’s such a relief to finally be filled.”

“I had heard that the emptiness is excruciating,” Lone murmured. “I just wish you hadn’t had to bear it alone for so long—wish I could have been helping you. You should have asked me from the start, Lizabeth.”

“Be reasonable,” Lizabeth objected. “How could I have asked you? How could I go and say, ‘Oh by the way, Lone, I hope you don’t mind but I need you to put your huge cock inside me because I feel empty inside.”

She bit her lip. God, what was she saying? Was having her pussy filled making her mouth say everything her brain was thinking, whether it was appropriate or not? Then again, what was appropriate conversation when one had one’s assistant’s thick shaft buried deep in one’s pussy? A hysterical giggle rose in her throat but she swallowed it down.

Lone, however, seemed to take her sarcastic words at face value.

“You could have asked me,” he murmured low in her ear. “I would have done it for you. I would do anything for you, Lizabeth. Anything.”

“Oh, Lone…” She leaned back against him, rubbing her cheek against his rough one. The motion caused him to shift inside her and they both had to smother groans at the delicious friction.

“Gods, Mistress—so hot and wet and tight,” Lone growled hoarsely. “I love the feel of your pussy wrapped around me.” His big warm hands came up to cup her breasts through the thin black mesh and he teased her nipples, pinching her stiff tips lightly as he eased back into her, regaining the fraction of an inch they had lost when she moved.

“Well, I must say you’re looking happy tonight, Mistress Lizabeth.”

“Uh, what?” Lizabeth sat up suddenly, aware all over again that she and Lone weren’t alone in the room. How could she have forgotten they were in a public place? That was crazy, wasn’t it? It was almost as though the demands of her body had overridden everything else—even her perception of the outside world. All she could think about—all she could feel—was the place where she and Lone were joined so intimately. God, it felt good!

“I said, you’re looking happy and content. Certainly much better than last night when you left in such a hurry.”

It was Mistress Gettsum, smiling at her from across the little table they were once again sharing. Tonight she was also using a rocking chair, rather than a queening bench, and it was clear that she was greatly enjoying having her hairy Novice, Oglethorpe, buried to the hilt inside her. He seemed to be enjoying himself too—at least, to judge from the blissful expression on his bearded face.

“Oh, um, thank you. Yes, I…I’m feeling much better now.” Lizabeth tried to smile at her and tried not to think about how odd it was to be speaking to someone else in a normal, conversational tone of voice while she was essentially being fucked.

No, not fucked, she reminded herself hurriedly. Lone is inside me but he’s not moving. There’s no fucking going on here.

Of course not, whispered a snarky little voice in her head. No fucking here—just your assistant who’s way too young for you with his huge cock buried to the hilt in your pussy.

Lizabeth pushed the voice of guilt away and tried to concentrate on dinner.

“Well, what are we having tonight?” she asked Mistress Gettsum as brightly as she could.

This time there was something thicker in the pot—a chunky, black liquid bubbled slowly, making Lizabeth think of the Labrea Tar pits. What the hell was it—tar fondue? Why couldn’t they have normal food at these damn banquets?

“Oh, I think it’s Burla-bile stew!” The blonde Mistress sounded excited. “One of my favorites.”

“Bile stew?” Lizabeth asked, trying to keep herself from making a face. “That sounds…interesting.” It was a good thing she and Lone had eaten a filling lunch, she decided. Because there was no way in hell she was eating anything with bile in it.

“Oh yes—it’s delicious. They have such a good chef here at the Tower—it’s one reason I decided to stay. Well, that and to be with my darling Ogie in the way we are now.” She giggled and made a rocking motion which made her Novice groan. “Careful, Ogie—you know you’re not allowed to come yet.” She looked at Lizabeth. “But why aren’t you taking full advantage of your rocking chair?”

“I…I thought I was,” Lizabeth faltered, not sure what to say.

“Not when you’re not even moving. Look here—I’ll show you how it’s done. Oglethorpe—rock!” she commanded. “Slow but deep—let’s show Mistress Paige and her Novice exactly what to do.”

Her Novice tilted his hips and Lizabeth saw the strange mechanism at the bottom of the chair move as he rocked forward and upward, thrusting deeply into his Mistress with the motion.

“Oh! That was a good deep thrust—good, Ogie—just like that!” Mistress Gettsum moaned.

“As my Lady wishes,” Oglethorpe groaned and repeated the motion in a slow, steady rhythm.

“Um…” Lizabeth wasn’t sure what to say. “That’s, uh, nice.”

“Well, what are you waiting for, Mistress Paige?”

Lizabeth’s head jerked up and she saw that the Mistress Superior was giving her an arch smile.

“Waiting for?” she repeated stupidly. Somehow her brain didn’t seem to work quite as well when Lone was filling her to the hilt as he was now.

The Mistress Superior made a motion with one hand.

“Go on—follow Mistress Gettsum’s example since she’s kind enough to show you the correct usage of the rocking chair.”

“Oh, I…I couldn’t,” Lizabeth protested.

“You must.” Mistress Verlandah glared at her. “It is unspeakably rude to come to a pleasure banquet and not participate in the pleasure.”

“I…I am participating,” Lizabeth protested. “I just…”

“Guards!” the Mistress Superior called and two bearded men-at-arms came forward quickly.

At first Lizabeth was certain the Mistress Superior was going to have both herself and Lone arrested or thrown in the dungeon or something awful like that. But she only motioned to one of them and spoke in a low voice as she pointed to the chair Lone was sitting on.

One of the guards came forward and knelt beside the chair. He did something to the mechanism beneath Lone’s seat and then stepped back.

“There…” The Mistress Superior smirked at Lizabeth. “Let’s see how you like the auto-rock function.”

“The what?” Lizabeth demanded but just then Lone’s hips tilted backwards and she felt his long, thick shaft drawing out of her pussy. Then his pelvis pushed upward and she felt him thrusting into her, deep and hard, drawing an involuntary moan from her lips.

“Oh!” she gasped. “Oh, Lone!”

“Forgive me, Mistress.” His voice was low and hoarse, as though he was fighting for control. “I…I am not doing this on purpose. It is the chair.”

“The—oh!” Lizabeth gasped for he had thrust into her again, so deeply she could feel herself rising in the chair as the broad head of his cock gave the mouth of her womb a rough, luscious kiss.

“Oh my!” Beside her, Mistress Gettsum giggled. “I just love the auto-rock function on the chairs! I almost never use it though—it makes Ogie come so fast and then I can’t enjoy his nice hard cock in me anymore.” She pouted.

“I…I see,” Lizabeth gasped. She tried to get hold of herself—to take back control of her body. But the chair they were sitting in was now forcing Lone to fuck her—to fuck her in exactly the way she needed to be fucked—long and hard and deep.

“Mistress…” Lone’s big hands held her by the waist. “Mistress, I cannot stop this,” he growled in her ear. “And the increased friction is making it…making it damn hard to keep my promise to you.”

Lizabeth knew what he was saying—if this didn’t end soon, he was going to come. Going to flood her pussy with his seed and there was nothing either of them could do to stop it.

Well, you could just get off him, whispered the snarky little voice in her head. But that was easier said than done. Getting off Lone now without hurting either one of them was a tricky proposition at best. Besides, though she didn’t want to admit it, even to herself, Lizabeth didn’t want to get off him.

The deep fucking was exactly what she craved—what she needed—and she could feel her body responding to Lone’s in a way that was so deep and intense it almost scared her. Her pussy was clenching tight around his thick shaft, milking him hard, almost begging him to come in her.

That’s what you need, whispered a new voice inside her head—the voice of desire, Lizabeth thought. What you’ve needed from the start. That’s why the emptiness keeps coming back—you need a man’s cum in you to end it once and for all. You need to feel him spurting inside you—deep and hot and wet—filling you up until it runs down your thighs. Only after he floods your pussy with his seed will the emptiness be completely cured.

Lizabeth didn’t know if the little voice was right or not but it certainly felt right. And God, had she ever wanted anything more than she wanted to feel Lone coming inside her right now? Despite the circumstances—the fact that they were in a public place and had been forced into this situation—she wanted it, wanted him with an intensity that defied all reason or logic or shame.

She wanted this.

“Mistress…” His deep voice grated in her ear. “Mistress, if this doesn’t stop soon, I can’t be responsible for the consequences. You’d better…better get off me if you don’t want me to come in you.”

“It’s all right, Lone,” she heard herself say—or rather gasp—because each deep thrust in her pussy was pushing her closer and closer to the edge. She’d never been able to come from penetration alone before but somehow Lizabeth thought she was about to transcend all previous boundaries. “It’s all right,” she repeated. “You can do it. You can…can come in me.”

“You’re sure you don’t mind?” His voice was low and desperate now. “Don’t mind if I flood your pussy with my seed? I haven’t had a release in a long time, Lizabeth. There’s going to be a lot.”

“Go ahead,” she insisted, moaning as he pumped up into her again. “I…I want you to. And anyway it’s not like…like we could bond or I could…could get pregnant.”

“Not when I have no twin to help me,” Lone agreed. “Very well then, Mistress—I’m going to come inside you—as deeply as I can.”

“Yes, Lone—do it.” Her words were almost a plea and her eyes were closed now, blocking out the banquet hall and everyone in it. Blocking out everyone but Lone. “Fuck me hard and come in me—come deep.”

“My Lady’s wish is my command,” he groaned in her ear. She felt his big hands tighten on her hips and with the next deep, hard upwards thrust something hot and wet spurted deep inside her pussy, bathing the mouth of her womb and drenching her inner walls with his seed.

Lizabeth moaned breathlessly. She had never been able to feel this with a human partner. Sex with Bernard had been—as Mistress Verlandah had described it earlier—“two pumps, a squirt, and a tickle.” Sex with Arturo had been considerably better but it had ended in tragedy so she tried to put it out of her mind. But with neither of them had she ever been able to feel them coming inside her.

With Lone it was different. She could feel the hot, wet spurts of his seed pumping into her as he thrust deep and hard inside…she could feel her inner walls contracting and the mouth of her womb opening, drinking in everything he gave her thirstily and begging for more. And Lone was more than willing to give it to her.

With every human lover she’d ever been with, the moment of male orgasm had been brief and they had gone limp after spurting a few weak jets.

Lone was different.

Maybe it was a Kindred thing but Lizabeth was astonished and aroused to feel him coming and coming over and over, giving her more and more of his seed and yet somehow, he never got soft. In fact, if anything, he grew bigger and harder as he continued to spurt, filling her to the brim until her thirsty pussy could hold no more and she felt his seed rolling down the insides of her thighs and wetting the black mesh dress she wore.

The feeling of him coming inside her as he thrust deeply into her over and over suddenly pushed Lizabeth over the edge. With a little cry, she felt herself coming too—her pussy grasping his thick shaft even harder as the pleasure rolled through her in waves and she lost all control and moaned his name out loud.

“Lone…Lone,” she cried, clutching at his muscular forearms. “Oh God, you’re making me come…making me come so hard.”

“Yes, Mistress—I can feel you,” he growled hoarsely. “I can feel you coming all around me, your sweet pussy feels incredible when you come.”

“I can’t…can’t help it. Oh, Lone…”

“Mistress…Lizabeth,” he groaned in her ear. “You feel so good around me. Love you…love you so damn much.”

“What?” His words seemed to break the spell she had somehow fallen under. Her eyes snapped open and Lizabeth saw that every eye in the banquet hall was trained on her and Lone. The Mistresses were tittering among themselves and speaking in hushed voices as their Novices serviced them. Mistress Verlandah was watching her with a sardonic expression on her sharp features.

“Well, well, my dear,” she drawled. “So I see that you do enjoy the auto-rock function. Very much, apparently.”

“I…I…” Suddenly Lizabeth was flooded with shame—shame for acting so wantonly in front of a group of strangers, shame for letting herself do something with her assistant that she ought to have avoided at all costs—something that was going to complicate their relationship forever, probably. But along with the shame she also felt…

Love? What is this? Why am I feeling this? Love and devotion and a deep protectiveness…a willingness to do anything to protect my Mistress…the woman I love…

Suddenly she understood that the emotions she was feeling weren’t hers.

What the hell? She looked around wildly as though to identify the source of the strange emotions now flooding her.

“Mistress?” Lone spoke in her ear. “Mistress, what’s wrong? Why are you so upset?”

Lone—these emotions are coming from him! But how in the world…?

It didn’t matter how or why, Lizabeth suddenly understood. What mattered was that she had to get out of here—now.

Though she had thought it would be impossible to dismount from her assistant earlier, she began to make an effort now, trying to get away from the thick shaft that was still thrusting inside her.

“Mistress—Lizabeth, wait!” Lone’s arms tightened around her waist. “At least get them to stop this damn chair first,” he growled in her ear. “It’s going to be impossible to get free of each other otherwise.”

His words struck fear in her heart because it wasn’t just the damn rocking-fucking-chair they brought to mind.

Impossible to be free of each other, a little voice whispered in her brain. That’s the truth, isn’t it? Because somehow, against all odds, you must have formed some kind of bond with him. Even though it’s supposed to be impossible. How else can you explain feeling his emotions as clearly as your own?

“Stop this chair,” she snapped to one of the guards who was watching the scene going on with wide eyes. “Stop it at once—I mean it!”

Hurriedly, the guard reached under the chair and did something to the mechanism beneath Lone’s seat. The chair stopped rocking so abruptly that Lizabeth was nearly flung out of it—would have been if Lone’s shaft in her pussy and his arms around her waist hadn’t anchored her so securely.

But she was already fighting to be free of him.

“Let go—let go of me,” she insisted in a low, angry voice.

“Yes, Mistress.” Lone’s voice was soft and unhappy and she could feel his confusion coming loud and strong through the link they had somehow formed. He wondered why she was upset at him when he had only done as she requested. And it hurt him that he didn’t feel love coming from her in return.

Don’t you understand? Lizabeth wanted to shout at him. I don’t love you because I can’t let myself love you! I don’t want to be hurt like that again!

At last she was able to extricate herself from Lone’s lap and felt his long, thick shaft slide out of her. A rush of hot, sticky seed followed, dripping down her inner thighs in a humiliating display that made all the other Mistresses oooh and ahhh.

“My goodness!” Lizabeth heard Mistress Gettsum murmur. “I’ve never heard of a male who came so much. And look—he’s still hard! Ogie, why can’t you stay hard like that after coming inside me?”

“It’s because he’s Kindred, Mistress,” her Novice replied defensively. “It’s said they don’t get soft until they want to. And filling their ladies with a lot of seed helps bond the two of them together. So I’ve heard it said, anyway.”

Never should have let him come in me—never! Lizabeth thought as she ran blindly for the exit of the banquet hall.

“Mistress Paige, the banquet is not over and you are not dismissed!” she heard the Mistress Superior shouting behind her but she didn’t give a damn. She had to get out of here now.

But though she ran down the long stone corridors away from the hall and away from Lone, she could still feel him inside her—could still feel his hurt and bewilderment that she had run from him.

Oh God, what was she going to do?

Chapter Seventeen

Lone found her pacing their bedroom, still dressed in the black mesh dress, stained with his seed. He had left the banquet early as well—there seemed to be no point in staying after Lizabeth had gone. He was, after all, only there to service her and nobody tried to stop him from un-strapping himself from the rocking chair and leaving the hall.

Only it seems I serviced her a little too well, he thought unhappily, watching her pace. By now he had also realized that he and Lizabeth had formed a sort of partial bond somehow. Lone didn’t know how it had happened—it shouldn’t have been possible when he had no Twin to help him. He couldn’t hear Lizabeth’s thoughts but he could feel her unhappiness and uncertainty coming loud and clear through the new link.

“Lizabeth,” he murmured, going to her. “Mistress—”

“What do you want?” She rounded on him, her blue-green-gray eyes stormy. “And how did this happen? I can feel your emotions—I shouldn’t be able to do that!”

“I don’t know how it was possible for us to form even a partial bond.” Lone spoke softly, hoping to placate her. “But is it really such a bad thing, Lizabeth?”

“What? How can you ask that?” she demanded. “I’m supposed to be your boss but I let you fuck me and now we have this…this connection. Of course it’s a bad thing! It’s not appropriate at all.”

“No…” He shook his head. “That’s not it. Or at least, that’s not the only reason you’re upset.” He looked at her earnestly. “Is it because I’m a loner? Because I have no twin to help me call a mate?”

“What? Call a mate?” Lizabeth shook her head. “No, it’s not that.”

“Then what?” Lone insisted. “Why does it bother you to let me help you through your needing? Why are you so upset that we seem to have formed a partial bond? It’s not because you don’t want me—I can smell your desire when I’m near you and it’s not just since you were exposed to the Xi-46 compound. Whether you want to admit it or not, your body responds to mine—it always has.”

She shook her head again and he felt her shame through their link.

“All the times we joked around and teased each other before all this started…all the inappropriate thoughts I had about you—about us… I thought I was keeping it to myself but I guess not. God, have I really been so obvious?”

“Not to anyone else, I’m sure. But your body doesn’t lie to me—it can’t lie, Lizabeth,” Lone told her gently. “I can smell your desire as clearly as you smell mine.”

“Your bonding scent,” she whispered. “You’ve been making it for a long time now, haven’t you? Is that why I couldn’t resist you?”

“Don’t feel bad.” Lone cupped her shoulders in his hands. “I can’t resist you either.”

“Well you ought to,” she said, pulling away. “We both ought to. This isn’t appropriate. “I’m your boss and—”

“Then I’ll quit,” Lone said simply. “As soon as we get back to the Mother Ship, I’m giving you my notice. After all, you’ve been telling me for some time that I’m ready to start my own practice.”

“What?” Lizabeth looked stunned. “You want to leave because—”

“Of course I don’t want to leave. I want to stay with you—just not as your assistant.” Lone gave her a significant look. “Lizabeth, you know what I mean—what I want. I want you.”

A shock ran though her—Lone felt it. She didn’t believe he really wanted her but why?

“That’s impossible,” she blurted, shaking her head. “Absolutely not. You…you’re too…”

“Too what? What’s the problem?” Lone demanded in frustration. “Why won’t you even consider me?”

“You’re so young,” she exclaimed. “God, Lone! I know Kindred don’t make a big deal out of their birthdays but you’re what—thirty-two? Thirty-three?”

“I was thirty cycles at my last name day,” he said stiffly. “Not that I see what my age has to do with anything.”

“Only thirty?” Lizabeth shook her head. “You do realize I’m forty-five, right? It would never work. I’m old enough to be your mother.”

“I don’t need a mother,” he protested in a low, angry voice. “I need you, Lizabeth—a woman I can care for and respect and love. I’ve wanted you from the first moment I saw you—don’t you know that?” He ran a hand though his hair in frustration—how could he make her understand? “I could scarcely get through the Goddess-damned interview when we first met because all I could think about was your beauty,” he said. “I went back to my suite that evening and…Gods, I don’t know how many times I jerked off to the thought of you. I want you.”

“You say that now—you think that now.” There was bitterness in her voice as she backed away from him. “But it won’t last, Lone. You have a crush, that’s all. You’re hot for teacher, but trust me, you’ll get over it as soon as some pretty young thing that’s more your age comes along.”

“That’s bullshit!” he said roughly but he could feel through their link that she really believed it. “Lizabeth, look at me,” he demanded. “How many times can I tell you I love you? How many ways can I prove that I want you—forever?”

But she only shook her head and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” Lone demanded. “We’re not done talking.”

“Oh yes, we are,” she shot back. “And I’m going to have some time to myself—and to get cleaned up.”

“Where—the cleansing pools? You know you can’t go in them alone—you’ll be boiled alive,” Lone pointed out.

“There are some other hot springs in the Tower that you can go into alone. Mistress Anarrah told me about them.” She stepped into the fresher for a moment and when she came out the stained black dress was gone and she was wearing a long blue drying sheet wound around her body like a towel.

“Lizabeth, please…” Lone could feel his frustration rising but he tried to swallow it down. “Please just talk to me,” he begged. “Tell me why you feel this way—how you could ever think I’d treat you so badly.”

“I can’t talk right now.” Her voice was brittle—as stiff as her touch-me-not posture. “Please just let me have some time to myself, Lone. I need to…to process this.”

Lone sank back on the bed, defeated. Clearly she didn’t intend to discuss their situation any further right now and there was nothing he could say that would make her change her mind.

“All right, Mistress,” he said helplessly. “Just be careful. I don’t like the idea of you wandering around the Tower alone.”

“I’ll be fine,” Lizabeth said shortly. “Women are in charge around here—remember? It’s not like I’m going out among the Friezens.”

Then she stalked out of the room and Lone heard her footsteps echoing in the long stone corridor as she left him. Frustration gripped him—why was she being this way? Why did she refuse his love? Refuse to even believe that he loved her in the first place?

Rage rose in him and he turned and punched one of the thick wooden bedposts holding the elaborate brocade canopy over the bed. Pain exploded in his hand and the post gave way with a harsh crack! One corner of the canopy sagged as Lone stared bleakly at the damage he had done. He’d made a fucking mess.

But it was nothing compared to the damage Lizabeth had done to his heart.

Nothing at all.

* * * * *

Lizabeth could still feel him long after she left the room they had been assigned behind. She felt his frustration and anger and then a sudden pain in her hand—where the hell was that coming from? Had Lone punched something?

She shivered and walked a little faster. Whatever had happened, she didn’t want to know. She just wanted to have some time to herself to try and pull herself back together.

It seemed that she wandered for hours. She told herself she was looking for the other bathing pools—the ones Mistress Anarrah had told her about. But somehow she never found them—her feet seemed to be taking her in circles as her thoughts tumbled over themselves in chaotic patterns.

So Lone thought he loved her—wasn’t that nice, she thought savagely. He wanted to swear his eternal, undying love to the older woman he idolized. Just like Arturo had sworn up and down that she was the only one for him. Right up until she’d caught him—

“What in the hell do you think you’re doing, Karx? I told you to extract more gems from under the tarp in my private hallway before you tried another mining site! And now I find you digging right in the middle of the communal baths!”

The familiar voice brought Lizabeth up short. She was standing in an open doorway that led into a room filled with many small, sunken pools with steam rising up from them. Her feet had somehow brought her to the bathing pools Mistress Anarrah had told her about after all—but it seemed she wasn’t alone.

Quickly she drew back into the shadows beside the doorway but she couldn’t quite bring herself to leave. Something was going on with Karx and Mistress Verlandah and she wanted to know what it was.

Holding a digging implement with a laser cutter on its end, was Karx. He had apparently been unearthing a rich vein of some deep, ruby-red gems which were embedded in the stone wall. Facing him, her cold features twisted with anger, was the Mistress Superior.

“I dig where there’s gems to mine, Mistress,” Karx growled, glaring at her. “You want to finance your expensive house on Yonnie Six—well, this is the only way to do it. So you’d better leave me to my methods and stop bitching and moaning about where the gold and gems come from in the first place.”

“I tell you, I won’t have it!” Mistress Verlandah exclaimed. “The other Mistresses will become suspicious if you dig in public places, Karx! Why don’t you try the Meditation Grotto again?”

“Those veins were tapped out months ago,” he snapped. “And don’t forget our deal, Mistress—when we get out of here, I go my way and you go yours. There has to be enough to finance both of us since I’m damn sure not going to Yonnie Six with you where you can treat me like the dirt under your feet. So I don’t give a damn who knows we’ve been digging up the Sacred Mountain as long as I get the fuck out of here!”

“Why you insolent, insufferable, disgusting male,” the Mistress Superior gasped. “I’ll have you in a pain collar before this night is out and then we’ll see if you dare to talk back to your Mistress again!”

“Fuck that and fuck you,” Karx growled. Dropping his digging tool, he wrapped thick fingers around the Mistress Superior’s throat and forced her to her knees. “In fact…” An evil grin began to grow on his dark face. “I think I’ll fuck your pretty little mouth, Mistress. Open up.”

Mistress Verlandah choked and struggled but Karx forced open her mouth with one hand and pulled out a sizable member with the other.

“Suck on this, Mistress,” he growled. “Unless you’d rather I choked you to death.”

The Mistress Superior opened her mouth—possibly to gasp for air—and her Novice rammed his long, thick shaft down her throat—which made her choke for a whole different reason.

“That’s right, take it,” Karx growled. “Take it all. And you’re going to fucking swallow when I come too—swallow every drop I pump down your throat!”

Watching from the shadows, Lizabeth felt as though she was frozen in place. She couldn’t believe this was happening—couldn’t believe the cold, domineering Mistress Verlandah was being treated this way by her Novice. It must be some kind of a dream, right?

This is no dream, Lizabeth, whispered a little voice in her head. This is happening—he’s doing this to her and he’s probably going to do worse unless you stop him!

The little voice seemed to break her paralysis and propel her into motion.

“Stop!” she shouted, stepping out from the shadows and running into the Communal bathing chamber. “Stop right now! How dare you treat her like that, you raping bastard!”

For a moment, all the action stopped as both Karx and Mistress Verlandah looked at her in apparent astonishment. Then the Friezen’s choking hand dropped away from the slender column of the Mistress Superior’s throat and she pulled away from him abruptly. Then she got up and dusted herself off matter-of-factly.

Lizabeth would have expected the other woman to look wild and upset but to her surprise what Mistress Verlandah mainly looked was annoyed.

“See?” she said to Karx. “This is what comes of playing in a public area. Couldn’t you have waited until we got back to my rooms?”

“Apologies, Mistress.” Karx sounded sulky. “But the way you were going at me really riled me up. I thought you wanted to play here.”

“As usual, Karx, your timing is off,” the Mistress Superior sniffed.

“Wait,” Lizabeth said, looking from one to the other of them. “So the two of you were just role-playing? He wasn’t really, uh—”

“Raping my mouth?” Mistress Verlandah laughed harshly—a sound like the cawing of a crow, Lizabeth thought. “Certainly not! Sometimes Karx and I just like to…mix things up a bit.” She frowned. “Which is, of course, completely taboo here at the Tower—and on Yonnie Six.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say anything about it,” Lizabeth assured her hastily. “It’s not nearly as taboo on my home planet. I mean, it’s not…not surprising at all, really.”

Which was kind of a lie. Though she knew there were people who were in the Lifestyle who liked to “play rough,” she hadn’t actually ever walked in on any of them playing out a scene before. And I never want to again, she thought, with a shiver.

“No, of course you won’t say anything about it,” Mistress Verlandah snapped. “Because you won’t get a chance to say anything about it.” She looked at Karx, who stared sullenly back. “Karx, I think it’s time Mistress Paige here visited Mistress Goldahh in the Meditation Grotto.”

“What?” Lizabeth started backing away but somehow Karx was suddenly behind her. He slapped a meaty palm over her mouth before she could even scream.

“Sorry, my dear but you’ve seen too much,” the Mistress Superior said with a shrug. “I can’t have you telling everyone about the little ‘games’ Karx and I play.” She frowned. “Or about my little mining operation either.” Turning to Karx, she directed, “Take her away and when you get back be sure you clean up this mess.”

“Yes, Mistress.” He nodded and started dragging the struggling Lizabeth away. “Come on—to the Meditation Grotto with you.”

Lizabeth kicked and struggled and even tried to bite but the minute she sank her teeth into his palm, Karx simply grunted in pain and moved his hand higher, so that he was covering her nose as well as her mouth.

“We’ll see how feisty you are when you can’t breathe, Mistress,” he growled in her ear.

Lizabeth started to really panic. Can’t breathe, can’t breathe, can’t breathe! a little voice in her head was screaming as she tried to draw a breath and couldn’t. Oh my God, he’s going to kill me and no one will ever know what happened to me! They’ll probably just tell the Kindred High Council that I decided to stay here with Lone so we could—Lone!

It occurred to her suddenly that maybe she could send a message to the big Kindred through the emotional link they now shared.

“Lone!” she screamed mentally, trying to force her inner voice outward, trying desperately to reach him. “Lone, please help me! Please, I’m in trouble—in danger. Please, please come help me before it’s too late!”

But whether Lone heard her or not, she couldn’t say. At that moment the lack of oxygen was too much and the whole world faded to gray and then black and Lizabeth knew no more.

Chapter Eighteen

Lone sat straight up on the bed when he felt Lizabeth’s worry and fear come through their new link. The emotions were so loud and clear he almost felt he would have “heard” them even without the new connection they shared. As it was, he felt as though someone had just touched his heart with an ungrounded wire—Lizabeth’s distress sent a jolt through his entire body.

“Lizabeth!” he gasped hoarsely, running to the door. Gods, he’d known it was a bad idea to let her go out by herself in the Tower at night! Why had he let her go? And where was she?

For a moment he was able to follow the emotions—they almost seemed to resonate and lead him to her, like she had a tracking device and he was following the signal it put out. But then, to his horror, the emotions abruptly cut off.

He stopped in the middle of the broad stone hallway and turned in a circle, trying to pick up on Lizabeth again. It was like someone had turned off the signal he was following—turned it off so neatly and cleanly that he had no idea where to start looking for it again.

Well, she said she was going to the communal bathing pools, Lone reminded himself. Maybe I should start there.

He had a vague idea of where the baths were and he turned in that direction, sending a silent prayer to the Goddess that he would find the woman he loved before it was too late…

* * * *

When Lizabeth woke up. her head was pounding. With a groan, she tried to put a hand to her temples, only to find that her arms and legs were bound. Also, something smelled awful.

Where am I? And what’s that terrible smell? she wondered hazily. Looking down at herself, she saw that she was wearing a thick, gray pelt that seemed to fit over and around her like a hairy poncho. A hairy, smelly poncho. Lizabeth wrinkled her nose when she realized the strange, ugly garment was where the horrible gamey stench was coming from.

“It stinks, doesn’t it?” a masculine voice remarked.

“Who…what…?” Lizabeth struggled to sit up—not easy when her hands were bound behind her back—and looked around.

“I said it stinks—Garn-beast always stinks. Keeps you warm though—and that’s what you’ll need if you’re to make it to the ripening hut without dying of cold.”

Lizabeth looked for the source of the voice and found it. It was Karx and he was standing at the control panel of the train that led up and down the Sacred Mountain and back to the Friezen territory.

“Ripening hut?” she protested, looking around wildly. The train car was moving and from what she could see—not much since it was already mostly dark outside—they were descending.

“Yes, Mistress.” Karx put a mocking accent on the title. “You didn’t think I’d waste you by killing you right away, did you? My people need a fitting sacrifice—a lovely, smooth-faced maiden in her second fertility to be the Snow Queen. You’re perfect for the part—you’ve even been in the Cleansing Pools which means you’re twice as fertile. You’re sure to conceive.”

“You can’t do this!” Lizabeth struggled wildly but whatever he had bound her arms and legs with was strong—she couldn’t move so much as a millimeter.

"I am doing it." His rough voice was implacable.

“You don’t want to do this,” Lizabeth said, trying a different tactic. “You can make a lot more money if you just ransom me off to the Kindred High Council. They’re the ones who sent me and Lone here. If you just—”

“Shut your fucking mouth. I have to listen to women talking and ordering all day—if you think I’ll listen to you too, you’re wrong.” The black look the Friezen shot her way was so full of malice and hatred it made Lizabeth’s heart freeze in her chest. Still, she tried again.

“You have to let me go—take me back,” she told Karx. “My Novice, Lone—”

“Will be told that you’ve gone into the Meditation Grotto and taken a vow of silence,” Karx growled. “Which is what my Mistress will tell everyone who asks about you. She’ll let them know you’re not to be disturbed.” He gave a harsh laugh. “Just like Mistress Goldahh.”

“Lone will never believe you!” Lizabeth exclaimed. “He’ll know you’re lying.”

“Then he’ll die—just like Mistress Goldahh’s Novice did,” Karx snarled. “You’d better pray he doesn’t go sniffing around after you, Mistress—not if you truly love him.”

I do love him, Lizabeth thought despairingly. Even though he can’t possibly love me the way he thinks he does—even though he’s too young for me—I love him.

The realization hit her hard and for a moment all she could do was sit slumped in the smelly fur and cry. She felt overwhelmed with regret and she wished that she could have done things differently. If she could go back in time she wouldn’t have been so dismissive of Lone’s feelings for her—or so angry that he dared to express them.

I should have taken a chance and let myself fall, she told herself. Even if it couldn’t last and I knew it would hurt when it ended, I should have let myself be open to him. He probably hates me now and I don’t blame him.

But there was no helping the situation now. She had pushed him away and now she would never see him again. She was on her way to almost certain death because no matter what Karx seemed to think, Lizabeth was certain there was no way she could survive being mutilated and then gang raped.

Just the thought sent shivers of sick revulsion down her spine. She wondered if Lone would come looking for her—she hoped not. Maybe he would believe the lie that she’d decided to take a vow of silence—maybe he would believe she had done it to distance herself from him and he would be content to go back to the Mother Ship without her.

The thought hurt her but she couldn’t help hoping it was true at the same time. Above all, she wanted the big Kindred to be safe and if that meant leaving her behind, she wanted him to. There was no sense in both of them dying.

Though she wasn’t in any way a devout person, Lizabeth sent up a prayer.

Please, she prayed, looking out into the darkness and cold that passed swiftly by the train’s glass-sided panels. Please, just let Lone be all right. Don’t let him come looking for me—let him believe the lie and go home safely to the Mother Ship.

She didn’t know if anyone out there could hear her prayer, but she felt somehow more at peace after she prayed it. As the train car continued its swift descent down through the mountains of Yonnie Two, she closed her eyes and tried not to think about what waited for her at the end of the ride.

* * * *

“Sorry, but I can’t let you in by order of the Mistress Superior.”

The bored-looking guard blocking the door waved his blaster warningly in Lone’s face. There was a lazy kind of menace behind the gesture that said it would be a pain to shoot Lone but he’d do it if he had to.

Lone blew out a breath of frustration and looked at the door to the Meditation Grotto. He’d been searching for Lizabeth for hours only to come up empty-handed. Finally, after bothering and waking everyone he could think of, he was told that Lizabeth had decided to take a vow of silence and had retired to the Meditation Grotto—which he was conveniently excluded from since males were never allowed inside that holy space.

Lone wasn’t buying the story. He might have believed it—might have thought that Lizabeth had decided to go someplace he couldn’t follow just to put some distance between them for a while. After all, she had been more upset than he had ever seen her when she left him earlier that night. But he couldn’t forget the burst of sheer terror that had come through the bond they shared—the bond that had ominously gone silent.

But what if it was somehow true?

Had Lizabeth gone into the grotto after all? Was she meditating—had she emptied her mind and purged her emotions somehow and that was why he could no longer hear or feel her? Was such a thing even possible?

It shouldn’t be but then again, Lone thought, a Twin Kindred wasn’t supposed to be able to form any bond—even a partial one—without his twin. The fact that he and Lizabeth had found a way to do that made everything else seem possible—even that she had somehow found a way to deliberately shut him out.

“You have to let me in,” he growled angrily. “I have to know if my Lady is really in there or not!”

“Do you doubt my word, Novice?” Suddenly the Mistress Superior swept up with her Novice in tow. Karx looked tired, as though he’d been up all night—just as Lone himself had. But there was a smirk playing around the corners of his bearded mouth that Lone didn’t like one damn bit. An expression that seemed to say, I know something you don’t know! What was the damn Friezen's secret?

“I said, do you doubt my word?” Mistress Verlandah demanded again. “I will not be called a liar in my own abode!”

“I have not called anyone a liar,” Lone said carefully. He could see that this was a loaded situation which would take some diplomatic handling. In the past, that would have been no problem since the Light Twin part of him was exceptionally good at diplomacy. Unfortunately, it was the Dark Twin that kept wanting to rise to the surface now and that part of Lone demanded that he charge into the Meditation Grotto and see if Lizabeth was there—if she was well and safe—at once.

“Well, when you demand to see your Mistress—who I took to the Grotto myself—and act as though she isn’t there, you are calling me a liar,” the Mistress Superior proclaimed loudly. “I could have you cast out of the Tower for insulting me this way, Novice. Have a care and go back to your rooms.”

“Go back to my rooms and do what?” Lone demanded angrily. “Wait there and just hope that my Mistress is all right?”

“I have told you she is,” Mistress Verlandah exclaimed. “In time, your Mistress will either emerge from the Meditation Grotto, or…”

“Or what?” Lone growled.

Mistress Verlandah shrugged. “Or she won’t. She might decide to stay there permanently, like Mistress Goldahh did. In which case, we will provide you with transportation away from the Tower so you can fly back to wherever you came from.”

“Leave without Lizabeth? Never!” Lone exclaimed. “Let me see her—what have you done with her?”

“How dare you question me?” The Mistress Superior’s iron gray eyes flashed. “I think I have been more than patient with you. Guards, take this Novice—”

“What’s going on here? What’s all the fuss and ruckus?” Mistress Anarrah swept up with Joren by her side. She frowned when she saw Lone and the Mistress Superior glaring at each other. “Whatever is going on and where is Mistress Lizabeth?” she asked.

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Lone growled. “I’ve been told that she’s sequestered herself in the Meditation Grotto but no one will let me in to look at her and make certain she’s all right—or that she’s there at all.”

“Do you hear this, Anarrah?” Mistress Verlandah exclaimed. “This male is calling me a liar right to my face! He must be thrown from the Sacred Mountain’s highest peak!”

“Now, now, Verlandah,” Mistress Anarrah said soothingly. “There’s no need for such extreme measures. I’m certain Lone here is only worried for his Mistress because he loves her so very much. I tell you want, Lone dear,” she said, turning to him. “I’ll go into the Grotto and check on her myself, shall I?”

“No!” Mistress Verlandah said quickly, frowning. “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea at all. You might…might disturb the meditation going on.”

“I’ll be as quiet as a neeter.” Mistress Anarrah was already walking around the guards who looked as though they weren’t certain if they ought to be letting her go into the Grotto or not. “I won’t disturb anyone, I promise.”

“No, wait!” Mistress Verlandah moved to intercept her and the guards turned uncertainly in their direction.

Lone saw his chance and took it.

Sliding silently around behind the guards, he was at the large, bronze-bound door with its yellowed sign reading “Silence Please” before anyone could stop him. Grasping the handle, he turned it and pushed his way into the Meditation Grotto.

“Stop him! Stop him!” he heard Mistress Verlandah exclaim but by then he was already inside and it was too late—he had seen the truth.

Chapter Nineteen

“Put her down here—she’s come just in time and not a moment too soon.”

Lizabeth opened her eyes and looked up dully to see three bushy, bearded faces staring down at her and one of them looked kind of familiar.

She blinked, trying to make sense of things. She’d been held in a kind of storage area—a dark, hide tent—for what felt like hours until all her extremities had gone numb and she’d fallen into a kind of doze. The frozen wind whipping at the sides of the tent had crept into her bones until she felt so cold she could barely think and nothing seemed to matter anymore.

Now that she found herself in a slightly warmer environment—another tent which had a fire burning in the center—she blinked and began to come back to life.

“Where…where am I?” she somehow managed to get out through numb lips.

“Listen to the female—she speaks right to us as though she has every right to address males!” one of the bearded men exclaimed. Lizabeth thought again that he looked familiar. “What boldness!”

“Didn’t Karx say she came from the Damned Ones?” asked the second. “Where the males bow down to the females?”

“As does Karx himself,” the first male said darkly and spat on the ground as though to rid his mouth of a disgusting taste.

“Peace, Brut,” the third male said. “We agreed that Karx would go to the Evil Mountain to learn what he could and to earn us enough credit to buy the outsider weapons we need to defeat the female infidels. He cannot help what he has to do there in order to fulfill the will of the Father Gods.”

“I know you’re right, Terg—and as Shaman, you must have the final say,” the first male said. “But it still sickens me to think of all he has to do. Putting his mouth on a female’s most filthy parts—and not even one who has been purified by knife and fire as we will soon purify this one…” He nodded down at Lizabeth expressively.

“Knife and fire?” she blurted, feeling more awake than ever, and not in a good way. “What are you talking about? If you touch me there will be Hell to pay—the Kindred will come after you! I promise you that!”

“The Kindred, she says! Those female worshipers!” Brut, who Lizabeth now remembered as the leader of the tribe, turned his head and spat again. “I’ve even hard tell they worship a Goddess instead of the Father Gods as is right and proper!”

“Yes!” the second male exclaimed. “And they let their females run wild and allow them to speak in public and—”

“They respect women and treat them as equals,” Lizabeth snapped. “Why do you find that so threatening?”

She’d expected a sharp retort but instead Brut drew back a heavy hand and slapped her. Lizabeth gasped and her head rocked back, hitting the hard platform they had placed her on. The side of her face exploded with pain and she tasted blood and knew her lip had been split.

“Oh!” She put a hand to her face reflexively—at least her arms were free now, though her feet were still tied. “You asshole!”

“You dare to speak so to a male?” Brut drew back his hand again but the Shaman—Terg—stopped him.

“Peace, Brut,” he said again, putting a hand to the other male’s arm to keep the blow from falling. “You must not ruin her face before the ceremony—the Snow Queen’s features must be soft and smooth.”

“She’s a filthy, unholy female—a whore who speaks to males and looks them in the eye as bold as can be,” Brut protested. “I was only trying to slap the filthy words from her mouth!”

“We will soon fill her mouth with screams,” Terg promised. “And she will no longer be filthy when we have purified her. She will be a fitting sacrifice and the best Snow Queen we’ve had in a generation. Didn’t Krux say she had been in their magic pool which increases fertility? Surely when you and I have bred her she will conceive a child—a strong son who may become the leader or Shaman of our tribe in his own right someday.”

Raping me—they’re talking about raping me, Lizabeth realized, feeling sick. After they finish cutting me up, that is.

She had known that this was the situation she was going into when Karx had told her where he was taking her on the train. But somehow the reality of her plight was much, much worse than she ever could have imagined.

Brut looked thoughtful.

“I do not think that you and I should be the only males to breed her, Terg,” he said, frowning. “We should take no chances—I will throw the breeding open to any male of the tribe who wishes to try his luck. That way if she conceives, it will be a credit to the whole tribe.”

“Very generous of you, Brut.” The Shaman nodded, as though the leader of the tribe had just suggested some philanthropic endeavor that would benefit everyone. “The Father Gods will smile on you for it.” He frowned and turned back to Lizabeth. “Of course, she must be purified before she’s fit to be bred.” He looked at the second man, who was watching silently. “Lurx, are the sacrificial knives ready?”

“They will be, my Shaman.” The second man bowed his head respectfully. “I have them heating in the fire now. They are almost purified for the ritual.”

Knives heating in the fire? Lizabeth felt like the blood had drained from her veins as a cold horror overtook her. Oh God this was going to hurt—this was going to hurt so much! And after the pain, she would be used by the entire tribe. What was she going to do? Why hadn’t they just killed her? Death would be preferable to this—anything would be preferable!

She wanted to kick and scream and plead but she knew it would do no good. She would probably only earn herself another slap for her troubles and the side of her face already felt like it was swollen to twice its regular size. There was nothing she could do!

“Good.” The Shaman nodded gravely at Lurx, who appeared to be his assistant. “Then let this female be prepared. And may the Father Gods accept our sacrifice of the Snow Queen.”

* * * * *

“What is this? Who is this?” Mistress Anarrah looked at the mummified figure, dressed in richly embroidered robes, which was lying on the padded cot at one end of the Meditation Grotto.

It might have been a nice place once, Lone thought. A place of reflection and solitude. But now the marble pool in the center of the round room was scummed with filth growing in the greenish water and the padded cots were coated in dust. The flowering plants and vast, frondy ferns which had filled the space had dried and withered away to nothing, their dead branches drooping over the pink marble floor which was dull with grime.

And lying all alone, at the far end of the Grotto, was the mummified figure. He had run to the quiet figure the moment he got past the guards and into the room, certain that it was Lizabeth—sure that she had somehow learned to shut him out and block their link.

But when he turned her over, he found not his Mistress but a body which had been dead for many months—maybe even years. How it hadn’t rotted in the humid environment of the Meditation Grotto was a mystery. Maybe it had something to do with the dried flowers piled all around it on the dusty cot. They gave off a sickly-sweetish smell his sensitive Kindred nose detected even though they, too, were long dead.

“Mistress Goldahh!” Mistress Anarrah cried, catching her first glimpse of the mummified corpse’s face. “Oh, no! What happened to her?” She looked at Mistress Verlandah accusingly. “You said she was meditating and couldn’t be disturbed!”

“So she was,” the Mistress Superior said defensively. “At first.”

“At first? Look at her! She must have been dead for ages—why didn’t you say anything? And look at this place—our lovely Grotto! All the plants are dead—dust everywhere—the fountain filled with slime!”

“Well, I couldn’t let any of the cleaning staff in to see her, now could I?” snapped Mistress Verlandah. “And I wasn’t about to do any cleaning myself. That’s beneath me!”

“What I don’t understand is why you didn’t inform the rest of us that poor Mistress Goldahh had passed on to be with the Goddess!” Mistress Anarrah exclaimed. “Why would you keep such a thing a secret and just cover her in Sweet Lymel instead of letting us plan a proper passing ceremony?”

“I think I can tell why.” Joren, who had come in with Mistress Anarrah, walked to one curving wall of the round room which was covered in a long tarp. Grabbing the flapping tarp, he ripped it down, revealing a huge hole gouged in the smooth, polished pink marble.

“Oh no!” Mistress Anarrah gasped. “What in the Universe?”

“It’s clear someone had been digging here—mining for precious metals and gems, no doubt, my Mistress,” Joren said, frowning. “One guess who that could be.” He pointed at Karx, who stood scowling by the Mistress Superior.

“I only did what she told me,” he muttered, jerking his chin at Mistress Verlandah. “Got to obey orders, after all.”

“Not when your orders are to desecrate the Sacred Mountain!” Mistress Anarrah exclaimed in a horrified voice. She turned on the Mistress Superior. “Verlandah—what were you thinking? Did you kill Mistress Goldahh and make up the story about her wanting to live in the Meditation Grotto just so you could have your Novice mine the mountain?”

“Naturally not,” the Mistress Superior exclaimed, glaring down at the shorter woman. “Mistress Goldahh expressed a wish to go home but it was my belief that if she experienced all our Meditation Grotto had to offer, she might change her mind.”

“And keep her credit here at the Tower?” Joren said blandly.

“Silence, Novice!” Mistress Verlandah snapped. “Anyway, I brought her here and gave her just a pinch of sniff-weed—just a pinch mind you—and—”

“But sniff-weed is illegal and highly addictive!” Mistress Anarrah was clearly aghast. “Where did you even get it? And why would you give it to an esteemed guest?”

“I was just trying to persuade her to stay,” Mistress Verlandah said, frowning. “And I did! She wanted nothing but to stay here in the Meditation Grotto and sniff more of it.”

Lone could well imagine that was all Mistress Goldahh had wanted. Sniff-weed, also called Dream Dust, was known to cause beautiful 3-D hallucinations so life-like and gorgeous that those addicted to it would rather forgo food and water than come down from their high to eat and drink. It was illegal because it was so highly addictive and because almost ninety-nine percent of those addicted to it eventually died of self-neglect. As long as they had a pile of the bright pink powder beside them, they would just keep sniffing and sniffing it and dreaming their beautiful dreams until eventually they dreamed themselves to death.

For a moment he had a terrible fear—had the monstrous Mistress Superior addicted Lizabeth too? Had she shoved her into a dark corner of the Tower somewhere with a deadly pile of Dream Dust? Was that why he could no longer feel the woman he loved? Was she lost in a drugged dream where he could never find her?

But no—surely he would have continued to feel her emotions if that was true, he reasoned with himself. Sniff-weed, aka Dream Dust, was said to cause instant euphoria. He was certain that would have made its way through their link. No, the only explanation he could think of was that Lizabeth had been taken away out of range so that their link no longer functioned or…

Or she’s dead, whispered a little voice in his head. But no—he couldn’t let himself think that way—couldn’t allow his mind to go down such a dark path. Lizabeth must be somewhere alive and well—the question was where?

“Where is my Mistress—where is Lizabeth?” he demanded, stepping up to the Mistress Superior who was still arguing with Mistress Anarrah. “What did you do to her?”

“What makes you think I did anything to her, Novice?” Mistress Verlandah demanded, glaring at him. “I thought she was in here with Mistress Goldahh.” She looked around, frowning at the empty, abandoned space. “Karx, where is she anyway?”

A smirk spread over the Friezen’s dark, bearded face.

“She’s where she can be useful, Mistress,” he sneered. “In the only proper place for a female on this cursed planet!”

Suddenly Lone found that his hands were locked around the other male’s throat and he had Karx up against the curving, pink marble wall.

“Where?” he growled, the sound deep and animalistic as it came from his throat. “Where did you put my mate? What did you do to her?”

He seemed to see the other male through a red curtain as his fingers tightened around the choking Friezen’s neck. The Dark Twin part of him had full control now and all it wanted to do was kill and rip and rend and mutilate the male who had hurt the female he loved. Far in the back of his mind he heard the Light Twin part of him—the rational half—saying that he would never find Lizabeth if he killed the only person who knew where she was. It was this part of him, perhaps, that caused his hands to loosen just enough for Karx to choke out a reply.

“My…tribe,” he gasped, his fingers scrabbling uselessly at Lone’s choke hold on his throat. “They needed…a fertile female. So I…took her.”

“You gave her to the Friezens for their barbaric ritual?” Even Mistress Superior sounded aghast. “Name of the Goddess, Karx, why would you do that?”

Karx’s face, already dark with blood, darkened further with hatred.

“Because she’s a fucking upstart female…who doesn’t know her place,” he choked out. “Like all of you…Mistress.”

Mistress Anarrah looked first shocked and then deeply disturbed.

“This is awful, Mistress Superior—we must go get poor Lizabeth at once. Clearly your Novice is deranged!”

“Not deranged—just a product of his culture,” Lone growled, squeezing the choking male tighter. “The Friezens hate women—did you really think they would stop just because you welcomed them into the Tower?”

“This is what comes of letting the Friezens serve as Novices.” Joren frowned. “I allus said it was bad idea—that I did.”

“Where is she exactly?” Lone demanded, glaring down into Karx’s face—which by this time was nearly purple. “Tell me the exact location, now!”

The Friezen laughed—or tried to. What came out was more of a wheeze than any genuine sound of mirth.

“By this time…in the Breeding Hut,” he gasped out. “Too late… to save her, Kindred. She’s…the Snow Queen.”

Chapter Twenty

“Spread her legs. She must be purified by knife and fire—open her so that we may cut away the offending flesh,” Terg directed.

Lizabeth felt like she was caught in a bad dream and couldn’t wake up.

“Please,” she begged, struggling with the Shaman’s assistant, who was attempting to part her thighs. “Please, no! You can’t do this to me! Please!”

“Tie her and gag her too, if she keeps resisting,” Brut ordered, frowning. “Filthy whore! You’ll have to cut deep, Terg, to get rid of all the evil in this one and make her a fitting sacrifice for the Father Gods.”

“So I shall.” The Shaman nodded thoughtfully. “And I intend to—as soon as the knives are purified and hot enough.”

“They’re ready now, Shaman,” Lurx, his assistant said respectfully, still fighting to subdue Lizabeth’s kicking feet.

She was strapped naked to their ceremonial table with a broad, leather band cinched tight over her hips and her arms already secured above her head but still she struggled. She’d made them fight for every piece of her they’d strapped down and she’d be damned if she’d stop fighting now, even though escape was clearly impossible.

“I only have to pile the knives on the searing stone so that they stay hot during the ceremony,” the assistant added.

“And the men are lined up outside the Breeding Hut—ready to do their duty to the Father Gods as soon as the Snow Queen is ready,” Brut said. He gestured at the Shaman’s assistant. “Here—can’t you subdue one small female? I’ll help you.”

Both of them grabbed a foot and though Lizabeth fought and struggled, before she knew it her ankles were strapped to the table with her legs spread wide, baring her sex to their gaze.

“Look at that—she’s nearly bare down there.” The Shaman’s assistant looked at her neatly trimmed sex which sported only a small mound of curls. “You won’t have to search to find her unclean parts, Shaman Terg.”

“So much the better—I can get to her quickly. Tonight is the last acceptable evening for the Snow Queen sacrifice and we need to be swift to appease the Father Gods.” The Shaman was eyeing Lizabeth coldly, as though he was a butcher deciding the best way to cut up a piece of meat.

She wanted to plead with them again to stop but she knew it would do no good. They were going to do this to her whether she screamed and cried and begged or not.

Well, I might not be able to help the screaming and crying, she thought grimly. But I’ll be damned if I beg these bastards again! It doesn’t do a damn bit of good and I don’t want to give them the satisfaction.

Then she saw the Shaman’s assistant carrying a wooden tray towards them. On it was a black, rectangular stone about three inches thick and twelve inches across. The stone was smoking with heat and on it were three knives with long, sharp blades—blades that glowed red, Lizabeth saw with horror. Clearly they had been heated in the fire until they were literally red-hot. Gods, this was horrible!

Sweat broke out all over her body and her stomach clenched like a slick fist. Her heart began to thunder in her ears—blood rushing so fast she felt faint but not, unfortunately, faint enough to actually lose consciousness. Despite her inner determination not to beg, words of pleading rose to her lips as she tried in vain to close her legs.

Oh God, she thought frantically as the Shaman selected one of the glowing knives and came to stand between her spread thighs. Oh God, no—NO!

“Hurry, will you Terg?” Brut said, frowning. “The men are eager for their taste of the Snow Queen and the sun is getting low. The Father Gods must be appeased soon.”

“First the invocation must be carved into her flesh.” The Shaman had an unhurried air about him, like a man determined to do a difficult job correctly without rushing. He gripped Lizabeth’s right knee and bent to press the red-hot tip to her inner thigh.

As the searing blade bit into her tender flesh, Lizabeth couldn’t help herself—she screamed and then screamed again. Oh God, it hurt so badly—and they weren’t even to the worst part yet! How could she survive this? What was she going to do? She had never been devout before—had never believed much in any deity. But now, in her desperation, she cried out for help.

Please! she prayed. Please, help me! Goddess if you’re there—if you can hear me—please send someone to help me! I’m in so much trouble—help me now!

* * * * *

Lone felt her panic long before the train reached the end of its run.

“Hurry!” he growled at Joren who was working the controls. They had a whole cadre of guards with them—every Novice who wasn’t a Friezen was crammed into the small car. But it didn’t matter how many they brought to the fight if they were too late to rescue Lizabeth in time.

Goddess, please, he prayed desperately. Please let me get to her on time and give me strength to save her! Please!

“Going as fast as we can, yuh we are,” Joren said tersely. “I understand you fear for your lady but I can’t make the train go any faster. Sorry, lad.”

Feeling Lizabeth’s abject terror without being able to get to her and save her was tearing Lone apart. He clenched his fists and ground his teeth, willing the damn train to go faster.

“No, you damn well don’t understand,” he growled at Joren. “She’s terrified. I can feel her fear but I can’t get to her. Hurry, damn you!”

“You can feel your lady’s fear?” Joren frowned. “Is that a Kindred trait?”

“It is when you’re bonded,” Lone said tersely. He felt Lizabeth’s fear spike even higher and nearly shouted with frustration. “Gods, are we almost there?”

“Be easy, lad. We’re here right…now.”

As Joren spoke, the train car at last came to a jolting stop at the far station. Lone was out almost before the doors slid open to let in a freezing wind. The frozen ball of pale yellow that was the sun on this Godless rock was nearing the horizon, he noticed. He wouldn’t have much daylight left to do his killing in.

For it was killing he intended. He would slaughter the whole damn tribe of Friezens and if they had hurt Lizabeth in any way, well, he would do it slowly.

That was when he heard her screaming.

“Lad, wait!” Joren was calling behind him. “There’s too many of them—wait for the rest of us!”

But the protective Rage was on Lone—his vision was blood-red and the killing fury filled him. All he knew was that his female was in danger—was being hurt—and he had to kill the ones who were hurting her. Dimly he heard the other males calling for him to come back as he raced down the cold metal ladder and across the icy, barren landscape. He didn’t even turn his head to answer them.

He had to get to Lizabeth before it was too late or die trying.

* * * * *

Lizabeth’s vocal cords felt as though someone had taken a rusty razor blade to them. Every scream hurt so badly she could barely stand it and yet, she couldn’t stop screaming.

The Shaman had finished carving and burning the words of whatever invocation or incantation to the Father Gods he thought were necessary into both her inner thighs and the pain was so bad Lizabeth felt as though she’d been branded. But the worst was yet to come.

She watched, unable to look away, as he picked up the third knife—the one with the longest, thinnest blade. It narrowed to a point no bigger than a needle—a red-hot glowing needle.

And he’s about to use that on my clit!

Lizabeth drew another ragged breath, knowing she was going to scream again.

“Here we are now—the final cut to honor the Father Gods,” Terg’s voice was self-satisfied—the voice of a man congratulating himself on a job well done.

As the glowing point of the knife touched the tender bundle of nerves at her center, another screame ripped through Lizabeth’s shredded throat.

Oh God, the pain was unbearable. Why couldn’t she just faint? Why couldn’t she lose consciousness? Why—

There was a sound outside the tent—a low, guttural growling that rose above the howling of the storm. Then the shouting began.

Terg pulled the knife back and away from her without completing the cut.

“What’s that?”

“What in the name of the Father Gods?” Brut growled. He had been watching with a kind of gleeful anticipation as the Shaman carved up Lizabeth’s inner thighs with the red-hot knives and then went after her clit, but now he looked up, frowning.

“Did a Garn-beast come out of its deep sleep early?” The Shaman’s assistant looked uneasily at the fur-covered flap that served as the tent’s door.

“Go and check, will you, Brut?” Terg spoke with the air of a man preoccupied by a difficult but enjoyable task. “If the men are getting impatient for a taste of the Snow Queen, tell them I’m almost done here. They can have her soon enough.”

“Not before I do! And anyway, I want to see you finish carving out her impure parts first.” The Friezen leader leered at Lizabeth’s exposed sex. “That’s always the best part of the ceremony.”

“True. Well then—Lurx, you go. Let them know we’re almost done here.”

“All right.” The Shaman’s assistant looked uneasy but he headed obediently towards the tent flap. “I’ll just—”

Suddenly the flap slapped open and a big hand caught the hapless Lurx by the throat. The Shaman’s assistant gurgled, his eyes popping wide with surprise. He had no time to say anything before the hand tightened and his throat was ripped completely out. He dropped to the floor, gasping and choking, clutching at the bloody hole where the front part of his neck had been as crimson streams poured over the dirty fur that carpeted the floor of the tent.

“What in the names of the Father Gods?” Brut was on his feet, a long, wicked-looking dagger in his hand when the bloody hand followed by a long muscular arm entered the tent. The arm was followed by a seven-foot tall Kindred warrior with his eyes blazing blood-red.

“Lone,” Lizabeth cried—or tried to. His name came out in a dull croak. His eyes flicked to her direction anyway and Brut chose that moment to lunge at him.

“Watch out, Brut! He may have a blaster!” Terg exclaimed. He was also on his feet now, the long, needle-sharp knife still clutched in his grimy fist.

“I do have a blaster.” Lone’s voice was almost unrecognizable, Lizabeth thought, so low and guttural and full of rage as it was. “But you don’t fucking deserve a quick death.”

Fast as lightning he reached forward and gripped Brut’s knife-hand by the wrist. The Friezen leader tried to lunge towards him but Lone’s hand tightened and he made a decisive, brutal movement faster than Lizabeth’s eyes could follow.

There was a low crack, like a tree-branch snapping, and suddenly Brut’s hand and wrist were bent at a right angle to the rest of his arm. His gray face turned even paler and a gasping howl came from his lips.

“Not so brave when you’re the one who has to bear the pain, are you?” Lone snarled. “You bastard—this is the least of what you deserve for hurting my mate! I’ll tear you apart piece by fucking piece!”

As he spoke, he grabbed the other male’s head and began to squeeze—pressing Brut’s cranium between his powerful palms.

“Father Gods!” The Friezen leader flailed wildly but his right arm was useless and it didn’t matter how he beat and kicked at Lone, the big Kindred wouldn’t let go. Lizabeth saw his eyes bulging from their sockets, his mouth open wide in a hoarse scream.

My God, she thought numbly. He’s really going to do it—Lone is going to crush his skull like a grape!

Her gaze was glued to the scene playing out in front of her but now another movement caught her eye.

“Lone!” she tried to shout. “Behind you—look behind you!”

But her voice was nothing but ragged shreds and she couldn’t give more than a hoarse whisper.

As the Friezen leader’s skull gave way with a cracking sound and gouts of blood poured from his eyes and nose, Lone turned anyway. But too late—Terg was already plunging the long, sharp knife to the hilt in the big Kindred’s back.

Lizabeth gasped when she saw the bloody tip come out the front of Lone’s chest.

Oh God, he killed him! No—oh, no! Lone—no!

She expected to see the big Kindred crumple to the floor and he did stagger and gasp, his blood-red eyes going wide with pain. He dropped the limp body of the Friezen leader and it seemed he would soon follow himself.

But to Lizabeth’s amazement, the big Kindred didn’t fall. Instead, he turned towards the Shaman. Glaring at Terg, he pushed the point of the knife decisively back through his body. As the Friezen Shaman watched, stunned, Lone reached one long arm around behind him and pulled the knife free. Letting it fall to the dirty fur carpet by Brut’s crumpled form, he grabbed Terg, who was still staring in amazement, by the neck.

The Shaman’s muddy brown eyes grew wide in his gray, bearded face.

“You…should…should be…dead,” he gasped as Lone tightened his grip.

“So should you,” Lone growled, his eyes flashing.

Dragging the struggling Shaman over to the place where Lizabeth was lying, still strapped to the sacrificial table, he grabbed one of the red-hot knives still lying on the smoking black rectangular stone. He picked it up by the hilt and brought the point right to Terg’s left eye.

“You’re the one who hurt her, aren’t you?” he snarled, bringing the point closer and closer. “You used this very blade on her—the very blade that’s going to cut out your eyes. And then your tongue…and then your fucking heart.”

“No—no!” The Shaman struggled, fighting to be free. “You can’t…can’t do this! I was only…the ceremony…”

“You hurt my mate,” Lone growled at the other male. “You carved into her flesh and now I’m going to carve into yours. But you’re right, friend—your eyes aren’t the place to start.”

He lowered the point of the knife and made two quick movements. Terg’s furry trousers fell down around his ankles, revealing skinny, white legs and a pair of dangling balls, like hairy eggs.

“Now…” Lone’s eyes glowed as red as the knife blade and his voice was still that low, inhuman growl. “Let’s see how you like the taste of your own knife.”

Chapter Twenty-one

Later, much later it seemed to Lizabeth although she thought it was probably only a matter of minutes, the bloody business was done. Terg stopped howling after Lone cut his tongue out but he continued to make choked, bloody gurgles deep in his throat even as the big Kindred continued his knife-work.

She had turned her head, unable to watch, when the butchery first began. It was horrible—unthinkable—and yet a part of her wished desperately that she was wielding the knife herself. That she was extracting the revenge that Lone was taking for her with her own hands.

The thought made her sick—made her wonder what the hell was wrong with her? The fiery pain between her thighs had subsided to a dull, aching throb—the wounded flesh still sobbing softly in a way she couldn’t ignore though she desperately wished she could. Her throat felt torn wide open and her skin was cold and covered in goosebumps because the tent flap was still open and a chilly wind was whipping through the tent.

Oh God, she thought dully, closing her eyes and shivering with pain and shame and cold. Oh God, it’s over…it’s over and I just want to die…

But was it over? Would it ever be? Somehow she felt like even if Lone finished his bloody business and let her loose, a part of her would always be traumatized—a part of her would always be strapped naked to this table with the wind howling and a line of men standing outside waiting to rape her while inside a fiery knife bit into her flesh…

“Gods, man! What have you done?”

The new voice in the tent drew Lizabeth’s eyes towards the flap. Joren was standing there, his face a mask of horror as he surveyed the carnage.

“What have you done?” he asked again, staring at Lone.

Lone blinked, seeming to come back to himself a little. His eyes lost some of their blazing red and he looked at the knife he held in one hand…and what remained of Terg and the others.

“I…they were—he was hurting Lizabeth,” he said, his voice sounding more normal. Though it was still deep, at least it was in a human register this time, she thought.

“So you left her strapped naked to the table to freeze while you took revenge?” Joren demanded. “Gods, man—your lady should come first!”

Guilt and understanding flooded Lone’s face.

“You’re right—of course you’re right.” He dropped the knife and Terg and turned towards the table, where Lizabeth was still shivering spread-eagle on the table. “Lizabeth, forgive me.”

“Please…” She was crying now—the hot tears which hadn’t come earlier felt scalding on her frozen cheeks. “Please, Lone,” she whispered hoarsely. “Please…just take me home.”

“Of course!” Lone unwrapped one of the purple furs he was wearing and draped it over her—covering her nakedness and warming her at the same time. Then, wiping his hands on another fur, he started to work on the leather straps that held her down.

Lizabeth wanted to thank him…wanted to ask him how he’d known where to find her…wanted to tell him how wrong she had been earlier. But her throat was ruined and the words wouldn’t come—only more tears. And then finally…blessedly…the darkness she had wished for so desperately came too.

As Lone gathered her into his arms, the world faded to gray and she flew gratefully into oblivion.

* * * * *

“She’s out, lad but she’s not dead.” Joren’s voice was gentle as he took his fingers away from Lizabeth’s neck. “Her pulse is steady and true. My guess is she’s just in shock. Best you should bring her back up the mountain to the Tower so we can treat her there.”

“No.” Lone’s voice was harsh in his own ears. He was still trying to come to terms with the things he’d done in the dirty fur hut in this frozen, barren wilderness. He looked around at the bodies littering the floor, at the furs sodden with crimson, and knew it was all his work, but he couldn’t understand how.

He kept getting flashes. The knife in his back—thank goodness Twin Kindred had self-sealing organs—the pain and terror he’d seen in Lizabeth’s eyes and the rage he’d felt at seeing the bloody burns on her thighs…

Then he saw himself breaking one man’s wrist and squeezing his skull until it gave way like a rotten pumpkin between his palms…tearing the throat out of another…and then there was the last—the one with the knife…

No, he told himself. No, don’t think about it—I was in Rage. They hurt Lizabeth—I had to do it.

Yes, but did he have to do it quite so thoroughly? So…brutally?

An eye for an eye, whispered a low, growling voice in his head. The voice of his dark side—the Dark Twin—he supposed. The male hurt your mate—you gave him pain for pain. It’s fair.

Fair it might be but his actions still sickened Lone and he could only imagine what Lizabeth had thought. No wonder she had fainted!

“Lad, if you’ll just bring her back to the Tower,” Joren began again.

Lone shook his head.

“No! She asked me to bring her home and that’s what I’m going to do.” He had wrapped Lizabeth well in the extra furs he’d been wearing. Now he lifted her gently into his arms, cradling her small form against his chest. “I’m taking her home,” he repeated.

Joren sighed.

“Well, you know best I suppose and I can see I’ll not change your mind. Let me and some of the other boys escort you to your ship, then. Just in case there are any other Friezen men left in the tribe you didn’t kill.”

Lone winced at his words. He hadn’t even allowed himself to think of the line of males he’d mowed down outside the tent. They hadn’t even had time to fight back—he’d been so intent on getting to Lizabeth that he’d killed every last one of them in a blur of violence he couldn’t completely remember.

Not that he wanted to.

He’d never been this person—never acted this way before. It confused and bewildered and sickened him and yet he also felt justified. These males had tried to hurt his bonded mate and it didn’t matter that they were only partially bonded. Lone still felt Lizabeth’s fear and terror, still felt the knife biting into her tender flesh. He knew that no matter how bloody this night’s work had been, he would do it again in a heartbeat to save her.

He just wished he’d gotten to her sooner—before they had started cutting.

How much did they hurt her? How far did they get before I got here?

It was a question he scarcely dared to ask. He would have to ask Commander Sylvan to examine Lizabeth when they got back to the Mother Ship. Until then, all he could do was keep her warm and comfortable and pray that she stayed unconscious until he could get her some pain medication.

“Come on, lad—this way.” Joren led the way out of the tent and some of the other guards from the Tower of the Higher Mind joined them. “All clear?” Joren asked them, frowning cautiously.

“All clear,” echoed one of the guards. “All the males are dead or fled. Fucking incredible.” He shot an awed glance at Lone who stared stonily ahead, pretending not to notice.

“I need to get my lady back to our ship quickly,” he reminded Joren. “She needs medical attention.”

“Yuh, of course, lad. This way to the landing area.”

Joren led the way through the icy night and no one else bothered them, much to Lone’s relief. Almost before he knew it, he was strapping Lizabeth’s inert form carefully into the reclined passenger seat and then taking his own place behind the pilot’s yoke. He bid a quick farewell to Joren and the rest of the Tower guards and then turned to his pre-flight sequence.

As they lifted off into the blackness of space, Lone felt only relief as they cleared the atmosphere of Yonnie Two. They would be home soon—in the blink of an eye. He would have Lizabeth to the med center before she could even wake up and they would help her…heal her…

But just as he was about to open a com-link channel and call for the Mother Ship to open a fold in space for them, the ship's cabin filled with a presence.

Lone stilled at once—his hands frozen on the controls. What was this? What was happening?

The presence, which was most definitely female, grew and grew, seeming for a moment almost to push all the air out of the small space so that Lone could scarcely breathe.

“Please,” he gasped, feeling overwhelmed and overcome. “Please, who are you?”

“Do you not know me, Warrior?” a powerful female voice which seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere asked. “You prayed to me to give you strength to save your female and so I did.”

“Goddess?” Lone looked about him, as though he might see her standing there but of course he saw nothing. He didn’t need to see anything—the overwhelming presence proclaimed the Goddess’s existence much better than anything his eyes could have shown him. In that moment he thought that he had never felt anything more real in his life.

“Yes, it is I, the Mother of All Life, Warrior,” the Goddess said. “I have come to tell you two things. First—that which was broken may be healed with love, patience and devotion. Second, you are NOT to fold space on the way home.”

“What?” Lone exclaimed. “But Lizabeth’s hurt! She needs medical attention at once! I have to get her to the Mother Ship quickly—I have to—”

“YOU WILL NOT FOLD SPACE.” The Goddess’s words thundered in his ears, making him feel deaf and also stupid—what was wrong with him, arguing with the Goddess herself?

“Forgive me, Goddess,” he said in a low voice. “It’s just that I love her so much and she’s been through such horrible trauma tonight. I just…just want to heal her.”

“And so you shall, Warrior.” The Goddess’s voice was a little gentler now. “Look to your viewscreen.”

Lone did as he was told and saw, to his astonishment, the blue, swirling vortex of a wormhole opening right in front of the ship.

“What’s that?” he murmured hoarsely, staring at it. “A rogue wormhole? I’ve never seen one just open like that before.”

“Don’t be afraid, Warrior—this is your path home,” the Goddess told him. “Fly forward without fear. And remember—that which was broken may always be healed. If you have the patience and devotion to heal it. Now, farewell.”

The presence faded and at last Lone was able to get a deep breath again. He stared for a moment at the rogue wormhole…then launched the ship into it.

He had already foolishly argued with the Goddess once—he wasn’t going to do it again.

Chapter Twenty-two

“All right—here we are, back at your own suite. Home suite home—no pun intended.”

Kat laughed nervously and Lizabeth got the idea she was making her friend uncomfortable. Probably because she was so changed now—silent and withdrawn—after what she’d been through and her long recovery at the Mother Ship’s main med center.

“Thank you Kat…Liv,” she made herself say to the girls helping her. She was still walking stiffly because of the Friezen words branded into the skin of her inner thighs. She had been given some ointment to help numb the pain and to heal the worst of the burns, but she would be marked for life in that area.

Marked in more than one way, she thought bitterly. The last place the Friezen Shaman’s knife had cut her was the worst because she couldn’t feel anything there now—nothing at all.

“I am so sorry, Councilor Paige,” Commander Sylvan, who was also a doctor, had said when explaining her final diagnosis. “But the nerve endings were not only cut but cauterized by the…” He swallowed hard, a look of pity coming over his face. “By the red-hot knife you told me was used on you. Kindred medical technology is very advanced but in such a delicate area…”

“It’s all right,” Lizabeth had said dully—or rather, husked. Her voice, like so much of the rest of her, was never going to be the same. All the screaming she’d done had ruptured some of her vocal chords. So she was never going to argue in court again—at least, not without the help of a voice projector of some kind.

“Councilor Paige…” Sylvan had seemed to hesitate before going on. “I’m told by Lone, your assistant that the two of you formed a…a connection,” he said delicately at last. “Often in these cases, a Kindred male is able to help or even heal the female he is connected to by—”

“No.” Lizabeth held up a hand to stop him. “No, I don’t want to see him. And no, I don’t want him to try and heal me,” she whispered in her ruined voice. “Lone thinks he loves me but he’s wrong. And I…” She shook her head. “I’ll never be the same again. He needs to get over me and move on.”

“I don’t think you understand how it is with Kindred. Once they find the one female in the universe they are destined to be mated to they can’t just ‘move on.’ They are forever tied—” Sylvan had begun but Lizabeth had only shaken her head. “Just let me go,” she told him. “I want to go back to my own suite and be alone.”

“Very well.” Sylvan had looked unhappy. “You’re as healed as we can make you. Unless you’d like to consider the surgery on your voice or the skin grafts on your thighs that we discussed? We have a Tolleg surgeon on board the Mother Ship who is excellent at such procedures.”

“No thank you.” Lizabeth didn’t like the idea of having an artificial voice box—she thought she would probably sound like a robot. And she’d had enough people between her thighs to last her for a lifetime. She just wanted to go home and lick her wounds for awhile in privacy.

“All right. Then I’m discharging you. But please come see me again if you change your mind.” Sylvan had called for her nurse, Liv, who happened to be friends with Lizabeth’s other friend, Kat. And so the two of them had brought her back to her private suite on the Mother Ship and here was where Lizabeth intended to stay—locked away from the rest of the world indefinitely.

“Would you like to sit on the couch? Maybe watch a trashy movie to take your mind off things, doll?” Kat asked her.

“Sure. That would be fine I guess.” Lizabeth shrugged listlessly. It didn’t really matter what she did—nothing mattered anymore, she thought. She was changed now—not just on the outside but on the inside too. She wasn’t herself anymore—she wasn’t the confident, successful attorney she’d been before she left for Yonnie Two. Now she was just…broken.

They got her settled and Liv stepped back, hands on her hips as she frowned uncertainly.

“I don’t like leaving you here alone,” she said, shaking her head. “I have to get back to my shift at the med center and Kat needs to pick up her kids from daycare but why don’t you let us call someone for you?”

“What about your assistant, Lone?” Kat asked hopefully. “Liv says he’s been coming by to see you every day, you know. Don’t you miss him?”

Lizabeth looked down at her hands. Did she miss Lone? Of course she did—and she could still feel his sorrow and longing coming through their emotional bond. But it was like she’d told Sylvan now—she was a changed woman—broken both inside and out. It wasn’t fair to tie someone as young and vibrant as Lone to herself. If she just kept ignoring him and putting him off, he’d forget her soon enough, she told herself. It was better that way—better to let him go free.

“No,” she lied dully. “I don’t miss him—and I don’t want to see him.”

“Sylvan said that he told him you two had formed a connection,” Liv protested. “Are you sure you don’t want to see him?”

“A connection?” Kat put a hand on her ample hip and raised an eyebrow at Lizabeth. “What kind of connection exactly and how did you form it?”

“None of your business,” Lizabeth whispered defensively. “We just—ouch!”

She grabbed at the side of her head and doubled over in sudden pain. A spike of pure agony had just stabbed right through her left eye and it was still going on. It felt like someone had shoved a dull knife in her eye socket and was digging around in there.

“What? What is it?” Liv was by her side immediately, concern written all over her pretty face. “Oh, I knew Sylvan was letting you go too soon! We have to get you back to the med center right away!”

“It’s not a matter for the med center.” Kat was still looking cool as a cucumber, a little frown playing around the corners of her mouth.

“What do you mean? She’s clearly in pain!” Liv exclaimed.

“Yes, but there’s nothing you or Sylvan or anybody at the med center can do to help her,” Kat said. “The only one who can help her now is Lone.”

“What are you talking about?” Lizabeth demanded in a hoarse whisper, looking up at her friend who was still frowning at her. What was wrong with Kat and why was she being like this?

“I’m talking about the partial bond you formed with your assistant when the two of you were away at that Tower place,” Kat said sternly. “That’s what ‘connection’ is code for, isn’t it? The two of you formed a bond only it’s not complete.”

“How do you know that?” Lizabeth asked in an indignant whisper. “Did Lone talk to you?”

“No, he only talked to Sylvan and me in the strictest confidence,” Liv was quick to reassure her. “And he only said you two had a connection—I didn’t know he meant a partial bond.” She frowned. “I don’t think Sylvan knew either or he wouldn’t have been so quick to discharge you and let you go home on your own without Lone.”

“I don’t need Lone and he sure as hell doesn’t need to be saddled with me,” Lizabeth whispered angrily.

“Saddled with you? Honey, he loves you!” Liv exclaimed. “He’s been coming around hoping you’ll see him every day since he brought you in. Can’t you tell the poor guy is completely gone on you?”

Lizabeth shook her head. “He only thinks he is. And now that I’m…the way I am, I just want him to forget about me.”

“Well, you’d better hope he doesn’t,” Kat snapped. “Because you need him, Lizabeth!”

“I told you, I don’t—ow!” The dull spike of pain had gone through her right eye this time. It was like the worst migraine in the world. Lizabeth doubled over, clutching her head, wondering dismally if she was going to be sick.

“So you don’t need him, huh?” Kat asked, still completely unsympathetic. “Even though it feels like someone is hammering a rusty railroad spike into your eye?”

The pain eased a little and Lizabeth was able to look up at her friend.

“How…how do you know—?”

“I’m right, aren’t I?” Kat asked.

“Well…yes.” Lizabeth nodded reluctantly.

“I thought so. It’s one of the signs of an incomplete bond.”

“But what can I do about it?” Lizabeth whispered desperately. “It’s horrible.”

“You’ve got to complete the bond that you and Lone started.” Kat pointed at her sternly. “Soon.”

“But how could she form a bond with a Twin Kindred who doesn’t have a twin in the first place?” Liv protested. “And how can she complete it?”

“I don’t know,” Kat said grimly. “But she’d better try or the pain she’s having in her head is going to get a whole lot worse. Believe me, doll,” she added, pointing at Lizabeth. “I’m speaking from painful personal experience.”

“So…this happened to you too?” Lizabeth asked weakly.

Kat nodded. “Back when I first got together with my guys, we accidentally formed a partial bond. I could feel all their emotions and they could feel mine but we weren’t fully bonded so our link was incomplete. I had the awful eye-spike pain like you’re experiencing, not to mention extreme fatigue and weakness. It was awful.”

“But…I can’t tie Lone to me just to avoid the pain,” Lizabeth protested. “It’s not fair to him to ask him to give up his life just so I won’t hurt anymore.”

“Why don’t you ask your man what he thinks is ‘fair’?” Kat asked.

“And you can bet that he’s hurting too, being apart from you,” Liv said quietly. “Maybe not in the same way you are, but once a Kindred has given you his heart, he can’t take it back. Being parted from you is probably agony for him.”

“But…but he’s so much younger than me,” Lizabeth protested. “Surely this is just a crush—a passing phase. “He’ll find some other girl his own age and—”

“Wait—how long have you been living on the Mother Ship and working with the Kindred now?” Kat interrupted her. “You ought to know by now that Kindred don’t get ‘crushes.’ They find the one woman in the universe they’re meant to bond with and then they pursue her with a single-minded intensity.”

“Kat is right, hon—Lone isn’t just going to forget about you,” Liv said quietly. “I remember back when Baird and I were getting together. I did everything in my power to get away from him during our Claiming Period. I broke his heart and he still gave himself up as a sacrifice to the All Father to keep me safe. The love of a Kindred isn’t the same as the love of a human man—it doesn’t waver or fade with time. It’s rock solid—something you can hold onto for life.”

Lizabeth remembered that Commander Sylvan had tried to tell her something similar back in the med center but she hadn’t wanted to listen to him. But then she remembered further back…to her time with Arturo and then again with her ex-husband. Both of them had left her for younger women and though she tried not to show it, that had hurt badly… Could she really trust that Lone wouldn’t do that to her? And was it really fair to ask him to tie his life to a much-older woman?

He’s so young and vibrant, she thought despairingly. And I…I’m not. In fact, just in the time since they had returned to the Mother Ship, she had really been feeling her age. Her body just wasn’t bouncing back like it had in her youth. Not that she’d ever had quite so much to bounce back from, she thought wryly. Nobody had ever tied her to a table and taken a red-hot knife to her before.

But it was more than just the aftereffects of the torture she’d gone through that was bothering her. She was feeling sick in the morning when she woke up, her back ached and certain smells, like the rubbing alcohol in the med center or the tomato soup Liv had brought her for lunch one day turned her stomach. Also, as though to make up for the numbness down below, her breasts were extra tender lately. And now, to top it off, she had to contend with shooting pains in her eyes. Lizabeth felt like she was falling apart!

At least I haven’t had any needing episodes since that night in the rocking chair with Lone, she thought dully. That on top of everything else would have been unbearable.

“Look, doll—at least talk to Lone,” Kat said cajolingly, breaking into her dismal thoughts. “Even just touching his hand will help the awful eye spikes go away—I promise.”

“Really?” Lizabeth asked hopefully.

“Really.” Kat nodded firmly. “I promise. But you have to touch him—you have to have skin-to-skin contact for it to help.”

“Well…” Lizabeth still felt a certain reluctance to see her assistant. After all the crazy and embarrassing and life-threatening things they had been through together, she couldn’t help feeling like it would be awkward as hell to be in the same room with him again. But as another spike dug into her left eye socket, she had to acknowledge that she didn’t have a choice.

“All right,” she groaned in a hoarse whisper. “All right—I’ll talk to him. Just…let me get cleaned up first. I need a shower.”

Liv looked torn. “I’m really supposed to be getting back to the med center but I don’t like leaving you alone until we can find Lone.”

“I’ll stay with her and make sure she’s okay until we can locate Lone,” Kat said. “I’ll get Sophie to pick up my three when she gets her twins from daycare. It’s a big ask but I’ll owe her one.”

“All right.” Liv looked relieved. “Please let me know if you have any other symptoms, Lizabeth,” she said. “And of course, I’m going to let Sylvan know what’s going on too.”

“I understand.” Lizabeth nodded. “Thanks for your help, Liv. You’re a wonderful nurse.”

“I just want to make sure you’ll be all right. If Kat wasn’t staying here with you, I’d want you to come back with me to the med center.” Liv sighed and then leaned down to give Lizabeth a spontaneous hug.

Lizabeth was surprised into hugging her back.

“Take care of yourself and give Lone a chance,” Liv murmured in her ear. She gave Lizabeth a final squeeze and then left.

“All right now,” Kat said briskly, as soon as the front door to Lizabeth’s suite had slid shut behind her. “Let’s get you all dolled up to meet your man.”

Lizabeth started to protest but Kat was already pulling her to her feet and propelling her to the bathroom. It looked like the decision had been taken out of her hands.

* * * * *

Lone paced nervously up and down the entrance to the corridor that led to Lizabeth’s suite. He’d been told by Commander Sylvan when he came to see her that she had been released from medical care and was going back to her own suite. Now that she was out of the crowded busy med center, he was determined to see her face-to-face.

She doesn’t want to see you, whispered a dark little voice in his head. She hates you now—or else she’s frightened of you. Think about the things she watched you do—the butchery and carnage…

Lone shook his head, trying to push the bloody images away. He’d been having nightmares about the acts he’d committed during his period of Rage ever since the two of them had returned to the Mother Ship. So much so that he’d sought out a support group for Kindred males who had been in similar situations. There was no blame there—only understanding. A Kindred warrior was normally gentle and kind but he was capable of terrible acts of bloody retribution when he felt the female he loved was in danger. This led to situations like the one Lone had found himself in and the aftereffects could be substantial.

It was the support group and the insight he had gained there that had finally helped Lone decide to go and confront Lizabeth in person. He’d been trying to see her for days at the med center, but she always told the nurses to send him away. Well, no more! He was going to talk to her and they were going to hash this out once and for all.

It had hurt him more than he could say when she wouldn’t see him…wouldn’t even consider letting him heal her, though he had begged Commander Sylvan to ask her about it. How could she ignore the bond between them? How could she keep sending him away when he was sure she could feel his love for her through their bond, just the way he felt her sadness and misery, coming across loud and clear?

Well, now he was determined they would talk it out. If Lizabeth hated or feared him now, he needed to know that instead of just imagining it in his head. He needed to hear her say she didn’t want him and why she didn’t want to see him. He needed to try to make things right.

Until that happened, his whole life was in limbo.

Please, Goddess, he prayed as he walked down the corridor and came to stand in front of her door. Please let her be willing to talk to me. Let us work this out. I love her so much—please let me show her—

But his prayer was cut off because just before he could raise his hand to knock, the door slid open revealing a red-haired, full-figured female he recognized as a friend of Lizabeth’s. He couldn’t remember her name, but he knew she was named for some kind of Earth animal.

“Oh, hello!” The girl looked surprised and then pleased to see him. “Lone, right?”

“Yes, I am Lone.” Lone bowed to her formally. “Forgive me, but your name escapes me. I know it is an Earth creature. Are you Bird? Or possibly Rat?”

“Close.” She laughed. “I’m Kat but spelled with a 'K,' not a 'c' like cat the furry Earth pet. Anyway, come in—I was just going out to find you.”

“You were?” Lone frowned as he stepped inside. “Why?”

“Because it’s about time the two of you sat down and talked,” Kat said firmly, ushering him into the living area. Lizabeth was sitting there on the couch, looking so lovely Lone felt his heart seize in his chest.

Her long dark hair was damp, as though it had been freshly washed and she was dressed in a long, lacy white gown. A white lace robe that went with it was belted modestly around her waist. She looked up at him, her big gray-green-blue eyes meeting his for the first time in over a week.

“Hello, Lone,” she whispered, in a low, hoarse voice. “How have you been?”

“Worried about you.” Lone came over to her. He wanted to sink to his knees at her feet but somehow he restrained himself. She might fear you now, he reminded himself. “May I sit by you, Lizabeth?” he asked quietly.

In answer, she patted the cushions beside her.

“Well, I think my job here is done.” Kat gave them a satisfied look and nodded to herself. “Remember,” she said to Lizabeth. “You have to have some contact if you want to get rid of the eye-spikes.”

“The what?” Lone frowned at her but Lizabeth only shook her head.

“Never mind. Thank you, Kat, for all your help.” Her usually lovely alto voice was still that same, hoarse whisper. As Kat nodded and left the suite, Lone turned back to Lizabeth, concerned.

“What’s wrong with your voice?” he asked, frowning. “Have you had a cold while you were in the med center?”

“You don’t know?” Lizabeth looked at him in apparent surprise. “I thought Commander Sylvan would have told you everything about my…my diagnosis.”

Lone was becoming more and more worried but he tried to keep his voice quiet. He had learned in his support group that it wasn’t uncommon for a female to fear her Kindred for a while after she had seen him go into Rage—especially if he had done violent things to protect her. It might take Lizabeth a while to believe that he would never, ever hurt her and had only gone into Rage because she was threatened. Therefore, he kept his face and voice calm though it wasn’t easy.

“No,” he said. “A patient’s medical history and records are private. You and I are not…formally mated so Commander Sylvan would only say that you were getting better and that you…” He cleared his throat. “You didn’t want to see me.”

“More like I didn’t want you to see me in the state I was in. The state I’m still in,” Lizabeth whispered.

“Then…you don’t fear me? You weren’t avoiding me because of all the terrible things you saw me do when I…when I came to get you?” Lone asked tentatively.

“No.” Lizabeth shook her head. “I know it sounds awful but part of me wished—still wishes—that I could have been the one to do them.” She put a hand to her throat. “My voice is hoarse because I ruptured some vocal chords screaming when they were…were torturing me.”

“Gods!” Lone ran both hands through his hair, his intention to be calm and soothing forgotten. “I’m so sorry, Lizabeth,” he exclaimed, getting up and beginning to pace in front of the couch, mainly because he couldn’t hold still. “It’s all my fault. I should have gotten to you sooner! I should have stopped them! I—”

“Stop.” Lizabeth put out a hand and caught him by the wrist. The touch of her soft, small hand on his sent a shiver down Lone’s spine. He stopped pacing and looked at her, wishing she would touch him more.

“Lizabeth,” he said hoarsely. “I am so damn sorry. I failed you.”

“You did everything you could—you saved me,” she whispered gently. “It could have been so much worse, Lone. I don’t blame you—don’t blame you for any of it.”

“I blame myself,” he said savagely. Sighing angrily, he sank back down onto the couch. “You know, I’ve spent the past week or so in a support group for males who have gone into Rage and committed terrible acts. I thought I’d come to terms with what I did.” He shook his head. “Now I just want to do it all again…but worse this time.”

“I know how you feel,” Lizabeth whispered. “And no, I’m not afraid of you Lone. Just…” She sighed. “Just afraid of what you think you feel.”

“I don’t think, I know.” Lone took her hands in his, looking earnestly into her eyes. “Lizabeth, I love you. I have for years now—it’s just that I only recently felt free to tell you so.”

“Well…thank you.” She shifted uncomfortably and he could feel uncertainty and disbelief coming from her side of their partial bond.

“Why, Lizabeth?” he asked, addressing her emotions instead of her words. “Why won’t you believe that I truly love you? That I want to spend the rest of my life with you?”

“Because you have so much life left ahead of you,” she said, frowning. “Because I’ve been down this road before—I mean, I’ve dated a younger man—and it didn’t end well. I can’t help thinking…” She sighed. “Can’t help thinking it’s going to end badly this time too.”

“Tell me about it—this previous relationship,” Lone said earnestly. “Let me understand what happened to you before so I can assure you it won’t happen again—not with me.”

“It’s an old story—it happened years ago,” she protested.

“Clearly it’s still with you, though,” Lone said. He frowned at her sternly. “I promised myself I wouldn’t leave you until I got answers from you tonight, Lizabeth. So please, talk.”

“It was before I met my ex-husband, Bernard,” she began tentatively. “I was…teaching a class at a local college as a favor to a friend. She had to leave halfway through the semester and she couldn’t find anyone to take over. The law is my first love but I also enjoy sharing it with others so…”

“So you agreed to teach for her. Go on.” Lone made a motion with one hand.

“So…” Lizabeth sighed. “There was a student in the class—a boy named Arturo. Well, I say ‘boy’ but he was probably twenty-three or four. He just seemed so much younger because I was already in my thirties. Anyway, he came up to me after the class and asked some pretty insightful questions. He was flirty too and I felt…well, flattered I suppose.” She gave a whispered laugh that was self-deprecating and then winced and put a hand to her throat. “Sorry, I’m going to have to cut this short.”

“Because it hurts to talk.” Lone lifted one big hand and stroked lightly over the side of her neck. He was glad when she didn’t pull away from his touch. “Now that we’re closer I feel your pain. I’m sorry, Lizabeth.”

“It’s all right.” She shrugged. “Anyway, Arturo and I had a relationship. I told myself it was no big deal—that I was just having fun. But I was lying to myself—I was actually falling for him pretty hard.”

“And did he love you as well?” The thought of her loving another male was painful but he had to know.

“I thought he did,” Lizabeth whispered. She looked down at her hands. “That was, until I saw him making out with a pretty little co-ed that couldn’t have been more than twenty. I got a little closer and heard them talking about me. He was…” She coughed dryly. “He was telling her how he had me wrapped around his finger—how his grade for the class was an ‘easy A’ because I couldn’t get enough of him.”

“The bastard!” Lone growled indignantly. “How dare he use you like that?”

She shrugged again. “Some guys are like that. It was my fault really—I should have known better that to get involved with a student.”

“What did you do?” Lone asked. “Did you confront him?”

“No. I went to the Dean and explained the situation and asked him to have someone else take over the class for finals.” She shrugged. “I heard through the grapevine that he failed the final exam—apparently he hadn’t studied because he thought he had a ‘sure thing.’ So much for an easy A.” She laughed again, dryly. “Anyway, I think that’s why my next relationship was with a much older man. Bernard was twelve years my senior and I thought I was safe because of that.”

“But then the two of you divorced,” Lone murmured—he knew this much at least, though Lizabeth didn’t like to talk about her failed marriage.

“Yes, we divorced. Because, again, he left me for a younger woman.” She gave a whispery sigh. “Do you see why it’s so hard for me to believe you’ll stick around for the long run, Lone? I’ve been stung before—twice. I don’t want to go through that kind of pain again.”

“You’re already in pain. I would never add to it,” he said quietly. “In fact, I hope you’ll allow me to help alleviate some of it.”

“You’re talking about trying to heal me, right?” She looked at him uncertainly and Lone felt her nervousness through their link.

“Yes,” he said simply. “Will you let me try?”

“What—you’re not even going to try to convince me you’re the loyal, faithful type who’ll never leave me?” She raised an eyebrow at him.

Lone sighed. “There’s nothing I can say to you that will prove my devotion—or our connection—as strongly as healing you, Lizabeth. I will tell you one thing, though. Do you remember you said to me you weren’t certain I really wanted to help you through your needing because you’d read that loners like me—Twin Kindred without twins—often don’t have sexual feelings at all?”

She nodded. “Of course I remember.

“Well, that was true for me…until I met you,” Lone told her.

“What do you mean?” She regarded him through narrowed eyes. “You honestly never had any interest in women before you met me?”

“Never.” He shook his head. “I knew I couldn’t bond a female to me—or thought I knew it—because I didn’t have a twin. But it didn’t bother me because I never had much interest in anything sexual.” He looked her in the eyes. “Until I met you. Lizabeth, I have wanted you literally from the first moment I laid eyes on you. What do you humans call that? Love at first look?”

“Love at first sight,” she corrected him. “But it’s usually considered a kind of intense infatuation.”

“Not in this case,” he said firmly. “Do you know I got hard just from shaking your hand in our first meeting? That had never happened to me before—I didn’t know what to do.”

A small smile quirked the corners of her lush mouth.

“I do remember thinking you seemed kind of distracted during that first meeting.”

“Because I was! I could scarcely think—all the blood that should have gone to my brain had rushed to my shaft instead. I had the most intense fantasies of you,” Lone admitted. “Of taking you right on the desk…or dropping to my knees to taste your pussy then and there…”

But he seemed to have said something wrong because the desire and interest he’d felt growing in her as he described how he’d fallen for her abruptly died and was replaced with a feeling of sadness and loss.

Lone leaned forward anxiously, cupping her cheek in his palm.

“What is it, Lizabeth?” he asked earnestly. “Did I offend you? What did I say that made you suddenly so sad?”

“I…can’t explain it.” She pulled away from his touch and crossed her legs protectively. “Maybe…maybe you’d just better leave.”

“Not until I at least try to heal you,” Lone said, frowning. “At least your throat—you can’t argue in court like that.”

“But how can you possibly heal my throat?” she objected. “I know you said you took that healing serum so you could heal superficial wounds for me but this is internal. Dr. Sylvan told me the only thing they could do would be to give me a voice implant and I don’t want that.”

Lone thought of the Goddess’s words to him. “That which was broken may always be healed. If you have the patience and devotion to heal it.”

And Gods, how he wanted that—how he wanted to heal the woman he loved and show her his complete and utter devotion.

“I know it doesn’t seem possible,” he murmured. “But please, Lizabeth—just let me try.”

“Well…” She seemed to consider, then shrugged. “I guess it can’t hurt. What do you want to do?”

“This.” Reaching across to her, Lone took her by the hips and lifted her easily into his lap.

“Oh!” Lizabeth’s eyes got wide. “Lone, You can’t just pick me up like that— you’re going to hurt your back!”

“My back is fine—I just need to hold you.” He honestly didn’t understand her consternation. Either she underestimated his strength or she overestimated her own weight. Possibly only dating human men all her life had given her a skewed perception of masculinity and the male sex in general. For that, he was sorry. How difficult it must have been for her—being with males that could and would hurt and leave her at any time—males who were too weak to lift her or to love her the way she needed and deserved to be loved.

Well, she wasn’t dealing with a human now. Lone was Kindred and he swore to himself and to the Goddess that he would do his best to heal the woman he loved and to do right by her. He would never leave her or forsake her for another woman—for him, there was no other woman. Lizabeth was it—the only one he wanted. The only one he had ever wanted or would ever want.

He just hoped he could show her that and make her believe how much he loved her.

“Lone…” she said, shifting uncomfortably. “Is this really necessary? I feel like a little girl sitting on Santa’s lap.”

“Santa’s lap, hmm?” He laughed softly. That’s right—she might be older than me, as she keeps on saying but I’m bigger than her—much bigger. Big enough to make her feel small and vulnerable when he held her like this so he had to be especially gentle, he reminded himself.

“Lone—” she started again but he cut her off with a kiss.

Not to her mouth—though he longed to taste her lush lips again, that wasn’t what he was after. He wanted with his whole heart to heal her—to erase the marks of pain and torture the damned Friezens had left on her before he could get to her. She was his mate—his love—his heart. He wanted to make her whole.

Please, Goddess, he prayed as he pressed another slow, gentle kiss to the side of her injured throat. Please let me heal Lizabeth. Let me show her how much I love her.

And he kissed her again.

Chapter Twenty-three

Lizabeth stiffened at first when she felt the soft, warm press of his lips to her throat. But then she felt something else—an outpouring of love and devotion and a genuine desire to heal was coming from Lone, through the partial bond they shared.

He cares, she thought wonderingly as the loving emotions strengthened and intensified while he bathed her throat in kisses. He’s really sincere about this—about how he feels for me.

For the first time since their bond had been inadvertently formed, Lizabeth began to let down her guard. She allowed herself to relax into the big Kindred’s arms and moaned softly as he stroked her back and pulled her close to him, bending his head to kiss and caress her wounded neck as though he couldn’t get enough of her.

A healing warmth seemed to flow from his mouth, a soothing energy which calmed the constant, low-level pain she’d been in ever since screaming her voice almost entirely away in the awful Friezen breeding hut. It was almost like Lone was putting some kind of magical medicine on her skin—a medicine which penetrated straight to the wounded tissues and soothed away the damage that had been caused there. But all he was doing was kissing her—how could that be?

But it wasn’t just warmth and healing she was feeling, Lizabeth soon realized. Her neck and throat had always been very sensitive, erotic spots for her. The way Lone was kissing—and now licking and sucking her tender flesh—was translating to a different kind of heat. A sexual kind of heat.

But that’s impossible, she reminded herself. I can’t feel anything down there now—the nerves were cut and cauterized.

Which was true, but just because her clit was now apparently numb forever, it didn’t stop the rest of her body from reacting to the big Kindred’s touch. Lizabeth felt her already sensitive breasts and nipples become tight. And her skin felt hot and tingly all over, almost as though she was aching for his touch. It was similar to the way she’d felt when she had a needing attack but this was less urgent…and more pleasurable.

“Lone,” she murmured, shifting on his lap and was surprised to hear her voice come out sounding normal. “Lone?” she said again, louder this time.

“Mmm?” He apparently didn’t want to stop kissing her. He ran his hot tongue from the hollow of her throat all the way up to the ticklish, tender spot behind her right ear, his big hands roving restlessly over her back and hips.

God! Lizabeth was tempted to give in to him then and there and just let him keep tasting her but she had to talk to him.

“Lone,” she said more forcefully. “Lone, listen to me!”

At last he pulled back and she saw that his gray eyes were heavy-lidded with desire.

“Yes, Mistress?” he murmured and Lizabeth felt a little jolt of pure lust run through her.

“You don’t have to call me that—we’re not back at the Tower,” she reminded him.

“Sorry. I…kind of liked it. Liked being your Novice and serving you.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Does it bother you?”

“Well…” Lizabeth nibbled her bottom lip for a moment as she considered. “No, I guess not.” Actually, it kind of made her hot but that was beside the point right now. “Listen,” she said to him, trying to get back to the moment at hand. “Listen to me talk—I’m talking normally. And my throat doesn’t hurt at all anymore!”

“Gods, you are.” He looked at her, his eyes shining. “Your voice is as beautiful as it ever was.”

“Thank you.” Lizabeth felt her cheeks getting warm with his compliment. “But…how did you do it?”

A little smile played around the corners of his sensual mouth.

“With love and patience and tenderness. I’m your mate, Lizabeth—at least partially. My body wants to heal yours.”

“Oh, Lone…” She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him—very softly—on the mouth. “Thank you,” she said, pulling back at last. “Thank you so much—I really didn’t want to have to get an artificial voice-box implanted. It sounded even worse than the skin grafts Commander Sylvan offered me.”

“Skin grafts?” He frowned. “You mean for…” He gestured to her thighs and Lizabeth bit her lip. Why had she brought up her other injuries?

“Yes,” she said reluctantly. “The…the places where the Shaman used…used the hot knife on me. There are…scars.”

“Gods…” Abruptly his gray eyes were hard and cold. “I wish I could have gotten to your sooner—wish I could have made that bastard pay even more for what he did to you.”

Lizabeth shuddered, remembering the bloody retribution Lone had exacted from the hapless Shaman.

“You did a good enough job,” she assured him. “But I really don’t want to think about it right now. I’m…trying to forget.”

“You were tortured, Lizabeth,” he murmured sadly. Stroking a lock of hair from her eyes, he looked at her. “That’s hard to get over, sweetheart. You might need to talk about it—it’s better than trying to bury it.”

“All right, but I don’t want to talk about it right now,” Lizabeth said. “We were doing just fine a minute ago. Can’t we just…go back to that?”

Lone raised an eyebrow at her.

“To me healing you, you mean? Yes, that’s exactly what I want to do.”

But then, to her surprise, he lifted her off his lap—again as though she weighed no more than a doll—and sat her firmly on the couch.

“Why did you do that?” Lizabeth asked, frowning at him.

“So I could do this.”

Lone slid to his knees before her and placed his big hands on her thighs. Looking earnestly into her face, he murmured, “Mistress—may I heal you lower?”

“Heal…heal my thighs, you mean?” Suddenly Lizabeth’s mouth seemed almost too dry to speak.

Slowly, Lone nodded.

“I want to erase the marks they put on you—I want to try and ease the pain you feel because I didn’t get to you in time. And because I love you,” he added softly.

“Oh Lone, I don’t blame you for any of what happened—you know that.” She reached out to run a hand through his thick, dark hair affectionately and Lone nuzzled against her palm. Turning his face, he placed soft kisses on her seeking fingers.

“Let me heal you,” he murmured. “Please, Lizabeth.”

“Well…” Lizabeth thought about protesting that there was no way he could actually erase the marks on her skin. They were mostly scars now—scars she would carry the rest of her life. But after the way he had magically healed her ruptured vocal chords with kisses, she felt like anything might be possible.

“All right,” she said at last, feeling self conscious. At least she had just taken a shower. “If…if you really want to try.”

“I do.” He was already nuzzling between her legs, coaxing her knees apart and asking her silently to spread her thighs. “Please, Mistress—open for me,” he murmured.

Lizabeth felt another little shiver of pure desire run through her. She reminded herself again that it was useless to feel this way after the damage the Shaman’s knife had done between her legs but she couldn’t seem to help it. At least she had on lacy panties which hid her pussy from view, she reasoned with herself. With a soft sigh, she allowed her thighs to drift apart and watched as Lone pushed up the hem of her lacy white gown.

When her scarred inner thighs at last came into view, she heard Lone draw in a breath and a barrage of emotions came through their partial link. Sorrow, anger, pity…all flowed between them as he took in what had been done to her.

Looking down, Lizabeth saw herself as he must—the twisted, mangled flesh…the straggling alien alphabet burned into her skin…the ugly scars. God, she was disgusting! Disfigured for life.

She tried to shut her thighs—tried to hide the awful sight from both of them—but Lone wouldn’t let her. He put one big hand on either knee and held her open. Though Lizabeth struggled to break free she couldn’t.

“No, Lizabeth,” he murmured, his low voice broken. “No sweetheart, let me look. I need to see.” When he looked up at her, his gray eyes were shiny with unshed tears. “I felt your pain as we came down the mountain,” he said in a low voice. “I knew they were hurting you but this…”

“Can you heal it?” Lizabeth surprised herself by saying. Half of her was embarrassed to ask him to kiss the ugly scars that now marred her formerly smooth inner thighs. But she couldn’t seem to help herself—the other half of her desperately wanted to be healed. Even if it was embarrassing and unsightly. She wanted the pain to be stopped and the scars erased—she didn’t want to remember what had been done to her every time she looked down at herself. “Please, Lone,” she repeated. “Can you?”

A burst of determination came through their partial bond and he set his jaw.

“I’m damn well going to try, sweetheart,” he murmured. “So just relax back against the couch—this might take a while.”

Lizabeth tried to do as he said but she couldn’t help feeling stiff and uncertain. Her throat had been painfully injured but the damage had been on the inside. With her thighs, the ugly scarring was right out in the open—it was hard to believe that Lone would even want to touch her there, let alone lick or kiss her, even to heal her.

“Oh, sweetheart—of course I want to heal you,” Lone murmured, looking up at her. “You’re beautiful to me—always beautiful—no matter what.”

“You…did you hear what I was thinking?” Lizabeth asked uncertainly.

He shook his head. “Our bond isn’t complete so I can’t hear your thoughts. But I’m picking up your emotions loud and clear—self doubt, uncertainty, unhappiness with how you look…”

Lizabeth had to admit she had been feeling all those things.

“Well…” She sighed. “Yes, I guess that’s pretty accurate.”

“I want you to do something for me,” Lone told her. “I want you to open yourself to my emotions as I heal you. Try to feel what I’m feeling for you. Can you do that for me, Lizabeth?”

She nodded. “I…I’ll try.”

“Good. Now open a little wider, Mistress…” His gray eyes flashed. “I need room to work.”

Lizabeth sighed and relaxed back against the couch cushions as he bent to place a soft, soothing kiss on her right inner thigh. The feel of his hot breath against her scarred flesh was intense and she had to bite her lower lip to keep from making a sound when he began placing soft, feather-light kisses along the marks the knife had made.

She closed her eyes as he kissed her and tried to do as he had asked—tried to open herself to his emotions instead of concentrating on her own.

Love…fidelity…caring…compassion…flowed from the big Kindred between her thighs. She sensed a sincere and earnest wish to heal her as well but there was more than just altruistic emotions coming from Lone. As he kissed and licked her inner thighs, working his healing magic, she felt more coming through their bond.

Desire…yearning…craving…need…she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen…the only woman he wanted…the only woman he would ever want and he craved her like he craved his next breath.

“Oh, Lone,” she whispered reaching down to ruffle his dark hair with one hand. “You’re amazing. Do you really feel all that for me?”

He looked up at her, his eyes half-lidded with desire.

“All that and more…Mistress.”

There was his use of her Yonnite title again—his obvious desire to serve and please her. Lizabeth wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She had assumed he was only playing a role while they were at the Tower of the Higher Mind. But could it be possible that Lone wanted to play her Novice here on the Mother Ship, even though it wasn’t necessary?

“Lone…” she began but he interrupted her.

“Look at yourself—at your thighs, Lizabeth. You’re healed.”

“Am I?” She was almost afraid to look but after what he’d done for her throat, she couldn’t doubt that it was so. Looking down between her legs, she examined her inner thighs which were still damp from the way he had kissed and licked them.

To her amazement the twisted burn scars were all gone. In their place was skin as soft and baby-smooth as though she’d never been marked at all.

“Lone,” she whispered, looking up at him. “This is…amazing. Incredible! I know I shouldn’t be surprised after the way you healed my voice but this is just…I never expected it to be so…so perfect.”

“You’re the one who’s perfect,” he murmured, dipping his head to place another soft kiss on the inside of her knee. “I’m so glad I was able to heal you completely—I don’t want a single mark to be left on you to remind you of that awful time.”

“Of course. Not…not a single mark.” But somehow Lizabeth couldn’t quite make the words come out sounding as light and normal as she wanted them to. She couldn’t help thinking with shame of the one mark that was left—the one that would scar her forever even though it wasn’t visible right now.

Lone frowned and sat back on his heels. He had his head cocked, almost as though he was listening to a sound so faint only he could hear it.

“What are these emotions I feel coming from you, Lizabeth?” he asked her. “Why are you suddenly so sad and guilty? Is there someplace else you’re injured? Someplace you don’t want to tell me about?”

Lizabeth nibbled her lower lip, debating with herself. She knew what he would have to do to heal her—knew where he would have to taste her. He had done it before, when they were at the Tower—several times, in fact. But still, it was embarrassing. Also, despite the miraculous way he’d healed her other injuries, she wasn’t sure healing would be possible with this one. She kept seeing the sad look on Commander Sylvan’s face when he told her that the nerves had been both cut and cauterized and there was nothing even Kindred medical technology could do to restore her sensitivity.

“Lizabeth?” Lone murmured, raising an eyebrow at her. “You might as well tell me, sweetheart. I’m going to find out somehow one way or another.”

“It’s embarrassing,” she said stiffly. “And…and I don’t know if you can heal it. Commander Sylvan seemed to think there was, uh, no hope of recovery.”

“What is it?” He put his hands on her thighs, looking up at her. “What did they do to you, Lizabeth?”

“Pretty much what they set out to do, even though that damn Shaman didn’t get to finish the job.” She couldn’t help the bitterness she heard in her voice. She was angry at what had been done to her—angry and resentful and filled with regret and loss.

Lone seemed to feel all she was feeling because he put a hand to his heart and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, his forehead wrinkling with the intensity of her emotion.

“So much pain, sweetheart,” he said hoarsely. “Please—even if you don’t think I can heal you, please tell me where it is. Please let me at least try.”

“Well…” Lizabeth sighed, seeing that he wasn’t going to give up asking until she told him. “It…it’s between my legs,” she admitted, relenting at last. “After…after he finished carving those damn words into my inner thighs, that bastard started to cut me…to cut my…” She shook her head, trying to get the words out. “Remember the Friezens practiced female mutilation?” she asked, trying again.

“Gods…” Lone’s face went pale. “I didn’t think he got to you there. Did he cut out your—”

“Not all the way,” Lizabeth said quickly. “He started to but just as he made the first stroke, that’s when you came in.” She shivered, remembering Lone’s bloody entrance and the way he had torn out the assistant’s throat before he was even all the way through the door.

“So he didn’t get…get very far?” There was a faint hope in Lone’s gray eyes.

“No, not far,” Lizabeth said. “But unfortunately, he got far enough. Because the knife he was using was red-hot, he not only cut the nerves—he cauterized them too. And Commander Sylvan told me…” She sighed. “Told me that nothing can be done because it’s such a sensitive area.”

Lone frowned.

“Maybe nothing can be done in the med center, but I’m your mate, Lizabeth. I may be the one person who can help—will you let me try?”

She started to ask if he really wanted to but the look in his eyes and the need and desire to heal that came through their link was so strong the question died on her lips. Lone wanted this—wanted it as much or more than she did. He wanted to serve her in this intimate capacity, to make her whole, and to bring her pleasure if he could as well. Because he loved her.

It was that strong emotion more than anything else that made her nod her head.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, you can try. Even if you could restore just a little of the sensation, it would be nice. I’m just…numb down there right now and I hate it.” Tears stung her eyes and she tried to hold them back.

“Oh, sweetheart—of course I’ll try.” He stroked her thighs soothingly and then let his long fingers slide up until he was caressing the edge of her white lace panties. “But I’m afraid these will have to come off.”

“All right.” Lizabeth lifted her hips as he hooked his fingers into the sides of the white, lacy panties and let him slide them off. Lone put his big hands on her inner thighs and she spread for him obediently. There was no sense in being coy, she told herself, even though her heart was pounding. He’d been here before. In fact, according to him, between her thighs was one of Lone’s favorite places to be.

And anyway, it’s not like I can feel anything he does, she told herself.

Lone looked up at her, framing her pussy with his warm hands.

“I’m going to have to spread you open, Lizabeth,” he murmured. “To see where I need to heal you.”

“Yes…go…go ahead.” Despite telling herself it was ridiculous because she could no longer feel anything, Lizabeth’s voice came out sounding breathy and her body seemed to ache all over. How she loved the feeling of his big, warm hands stroking up and down her inner thighs! How she wished she could feel more.

“Gently now,” Lone murmured, looking up at her. “Let me see what we’re dealing with.”

Using his thumbs, he parted her puffy outer pussy lips, revealing her pink inner folds. His gray eyes, serious and intent, scanned over her, assessing the damage.

Lizabeth looked too, though she hadn’t been able to bear to examine herself earlier. The scarring here wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been on her thighs. In fact, you could hardly see where the hot knife had stabbed her at all. It was just a little dimpled place right over the hood of her clit but it was placed in just the right spot, deadening all her pleasure.

“Oh Lizabeth—your poor little clit.” Lone’s voice was thick with emotion again. He leaned forward and kissed her there tenderly—a gentle, soft sucking kiss that Lizabeth could feel in the surrounding area, but not on her clit itself.

Her heart sank.

“Lone,” she whispered. “It…it’s not working. I can’t feel much of anything.”

“Give me a chance to work on you,” he murmured, his eyes flashing. “I need to lick you, sweetheart. Need to bathe your sweet little clit with my tongue to spread the healing essence my body is making for yours all over the affected area.”

Lizabeth bit her lip at his frank words but it only made sense, she supposed. And why shouldn’t he lick and taste her here? She wouldn’t even feel guilty about it, she told herself. After all, it wasn’t like she could derive any pleasure from the act.

“All right,” she murmured, spreading her thighs even wider for him. “Do what you want to me, Lone. I’m yours.”

“And I’m yours, Mistress,” he murmured, his eyes flicking up to hers for a long moment. “Let me show you my devotion. Let me heal you.”

Without waiting for an answer, he got back between her thighs and began to lick her…long, slow, movements of his tongue as though Lizabeth was a scoop of creamy ice cream in the sun and he was determined to lick her all up before she melted.

Lizabeth bit her lip and let him do it, trying to relax into the intimate act which seemed to come so naturally to Lone. She let her thighs fall open wider and took a deep breath, willing herself to just let him work on her and not feel any shame or uncertainty. Willing herself to drink in the erotic beauty of the scene with Lone’s broad shoulders splitting her thighs wide…his dark head bent over her pussy…his long tongue caressing her pink, open folds over and over again with slow, infinite patience.

She wasn’t quite sure when she started feeling something. It was a sensation of warmth at first—that same healing energy she’d felt flowing between them before, when he’d healed her throat and inner thighs. But soon the tiny spark of warmth grew to a tingle and then to a flood of heat that seemed to envelope her entire pussy.

“Lone,” she whispered, almost afraid to talk about it for fear she might jinx what was going on. “Lone, I…I think I can almost feel something.”

His only answer was to lick harder—lick more. His expressive eyes looked up, watching her as he lapped and sucked her pussy relentlessly. Slowly, the feelings inside her grew and grew.

“Lone,” she murmured again, reaching down to run her fingers restlessly through his hair. “Don’t stop. It…it’s beginning to feel good. Really good.”

In fact, the spark of heat had grown inside her until it seemed to fill her belly like a golden glow and her nipples were so stiff they ached.

“Oh!” she moaned as the sensation continued to grow. “Oh, yes…yes…”

He must be healing her—there was no other explanation for this extraordinary sensation growing inside her—the sensation that was centered right where he was licking.

Suddenly Lizabeth felt her eyes roll up as the sensation began to change from warmth to pleasure—yes, it was definitely pleasure. It wasn’t quite to the level she’d experienced when he’d gone down on her during their trip to the Tower, but it was close—very close.

“Don’t stop,” she begged him shamelessly, pressing her pussy up to meet his mouth, riding his tongue as he licked her over and over, bathing her aching clit with long, hot strokes. “Don’t stop, Lone, please.”

He didn’t answer in words but his muscular arms wound around her thighs and split her even wider for him. A low, hungry growl rose in his throat and he pressed against her, lapping harder and faster, giving her exactly what she begged for—exactly what she needed.

Lizabeth suddenly felt as though she was right on the edge. She was amazed at the intense sensation. It was as though her severed nerve endings had somehow regenerated as Lone licked her so long and hungrily. But how could that be? She didn’t know but she felt the effects of his healing in the rush of tingling pleasure that swept through her—the pleasure that originated in her swollen little clit.

“Oh,” she moaned, gripping his hair tighter and thrusting her hips shamelessly in rhythm with his lapping. “Oh Lone—yes! Yes!”

And then it felt as though her whole body was exploding, starting at the juncture between her thighs and spreading outward, like a star going nova. Lizabeth’s breath caught in her throat and every muscle in her body seemed to clench at once. Her toes curled and a breathless moan was torn from her that sounded suspiciously like his name.

It wasn’t just that Lone had restored a little sensation for her so she was able to have an orgasm—it felt like he had somehow made her even more sensitive than she had been before! And the orgasm she was having now was the most intense she’d ever had.

“Lone!” she moaned again. “Oh God, I’m coming…you’re making me come so hard.”

Again, he didn’t answer in words but she felt the emotions pouring through their bond. Thankfulness that he’d been able to heal her…love that swelled through him for her…and desire so overwhelming he was nearly overcome by it. Lapping her open pussy was incredibly erotic to him—his favorite thing to do in the world, and she could feel that he was hard as a rock in his tight black leather flight trousers as he made her come over and over…

At last she fell back, panting and Lone raised his head to look at her. His mouth and jaw were shiny with her juices and his gray eyes were half-lidded with lust.

“All better now?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at Lizabeth.

“You know it is.” She stroked his cheek lovingly. “Lone, you’re wonderful. I never thought it would be possible for me to come again.”

“Glad I could prove you wrong.” His voice was low and hoarse with desire, his gray eyes dark. “Gods, I want you, Lizabeth. Want so badly to bond you to me again—completely this time.”

She felt a rush of emotion go through her—some his and some hers. Desire…uncertainty…need…devotion…the intense wish to be joined together, never to be parted again.

“Lone,” she said softly, caressing his cheek. “I want that too. But I don’t know…I’ve heard that Kindred often don’t survive the death of their mate and I’m so much older than you. I just…I hate to ask you to tie your life to mine when—”

“Listen to me,” he interrupted, his eyes blazing. “I have no life without you, Lizabeth—you are my life. And I want to be with you forever. If I die when you die—and I think I probably will—that’s all right. We’ll go to the Goddess together and never be parted. Do you understand?”

Finally, Lizabeth felt like she did. There was no stopping this love—no putting it off or denying it anymore. Lone wanted her with a single-minded intensity and he wasn’t going to stop wanting her, wasn’t going to move on or find a girl his own age. Because it was Lizabeth that he wanted—her that he needed forever in his life and that was never going to change.

“All right,” she whispered, giving in at last. Leaning forward, she took his mouth in a hot, passionate kiss, humming in pleasure as she tasted her own secret flavor on his lips. When she pulled back, their eyes locked and she could feel the heat building between them—the desire to fill and be filled—the need to bond completely this time.

“I want you,” Lone growled again. “I want to be in you. I want to fill you with my shaft and make you mine forever, Lizabeth. But…” He frowned. “But I don’t know if I can. Without a twin, I mean.”

Lizabeth looked at him thoughtfully.

“I don’t think you need a twin, Lone. I think…” She frowned, trying to phrase things correctly. “I think you have a Light Twin and a Dark Twin—both inside you. I think you’re both.”

“I have had that same thought,” he admitted, still frowning. “But the problem remains, how do I bond you to me when I have no twin to help?”

An idea began to form in Lizabeth’s mind. She remembered the way he loved to serve her and call her “Mistress” and then she thought of the dominance and savagery he’d exhibited when he came to rescue her in the Friezen’s damn breeding hut. They were two halves of the same man and she needed to be bonded to both. How could she do it?

“You know how, daughter,” whispered a soft, feminine voice in her ear and a feeling of warmth and strength and love filled her. “You must give yourself to both halves and unite them as one. You can do this.”

Then, as suddenly as it had come, the voice and the feminine presence that had accompanied it were gone. Lizabeth knew she probably should feel freaked out by the voice—she had no idea what had just happened, after all or who had been talking to her. But somehow she felt only a sense of peace…and a knowledge of what to do next.

“Novice,” she said to Lone, leaning down to place another possessive kiss on his mouth. “You have served me most beautifully here on your knees with your face between my thighs. Now I want you to serve me in bed.”

“Yes, Mistress—it is my greatest desire to serve you.” Lone’s gray eyes were heavy-lidded with anticipation and surprised pleasure. She felt a surge of lust come from his side of their link—so, he really did like playing “Novice and Mistress” with her. She would have to file that away for further consideration but for now she wanted to make use of it.

“Carry me to the bed,” Lizabeth ordered imperiously.

“As my Mistress wishes.” Lone rose and scooped her up off the couch as easily as though he was carrying a child. God, he really was so strong—it was such a turn-on, Lizabeth couldn’t help thinking. She’d never been exactly as thin as she wanted to be (what woman was?) and the knowledge that she was finally with a man who was strong enough to lift her and carry her around without fear of injury was intoxicating.

Lone carried her into the bedroom and would have laid her down on the large gela-foam mattress with its warm red spread but Lizabeth stopped him.

“Wait, Novice,” she told him. “I am not ready for that yet. First put me down and then stand in the center of the room with your hands behind your back.”

Lone complied at once, putting his hands behind his back with had the effect of making his broad chest look even broader. He was still wearing his Kindred uniform—a long-sleeved green button-down shirt made of heavy, silky material, tight black leather trousers, and high black boots. They would all have to come off, Lizabeth decided but first she had other things to do.

“Now what, Mistress?” Lone asked, his voice getting deeper with lust.

“Now I want to inspect what’s mine.” Lizabeth lifted her chin and stalked around him in a circle. She trailed her fingers possessively over his muscular chest and back, almost as though she really were a Yonnite Mistress, inspecting a bodyslave she was intending to buy and train.

She ended up in front of him as she let her hand slide down to cup the stiff ridge of his cock, straining against the black trousers.

“Mmm, I can see that you’re already hard for me, Novice,” she purred. “That’s lovely.”

She felt the low rumble of desire building in his big body but he still stood perfectly still, his hands behind his back as she had ordered while she stroked and fondled him.

“My shaft is hard only for my Mistress,” he murmured, looking directly into her eyes. “So that I might service you and bring you pleasure, my Lady.”

“And so you will…in time.” Lizabeth popped open the magno-tabs that held his trousers closed and captured the hard, straining shaft that sprang out. God, he was so big. She knew she’d had him in her before, but that had been while she was under the influence of a needing attack. She hoped she could take him again without any problem.

Lone groaned low in his throat as she stroked him casually, sliding her hand up and down the hot, hard, silky rod of his shaft. His skin was velvety soft here—a vivid contrast to the achingly rigid flesh. As she stroked him, his Bonding scent rose around her, filling her senses with dark, masculine spice, making her feel intoxicated with need. She could feel his big, muscular body thrumming with tension and yet he stayed just as he was, submitting to her inspection and the slow, gentle, sexual torture of her hand stroking his cock.

“Mistress,” he growled softly. “Gods, your soft little hand feels so good on me.”

“My pussy is going to feel even better,” Lizabeth told him and felt the answering surge of lust from his side of their bond as she said it.

“Gods, yes—that’s what I want,” he murmured, his eyes flashing. “To fill you up—to thrust deep inside you and ride you hard—to make you come on my cock.”

That’s the Dark Twin part of him coming out, Lizabeth thought. But it wasn’t quite time to let that beast out of his cage. She wasn’t done with the Light Twin half of him yet.

“I’m the one who’s going to do the riding.” She made her voice crack like a whip. “Take off the rest of your clothes and get on the bed, Novice. Lie down on your back with your hands over your head. You will not touch yourself or me—I just want you to lie there.”

His eyes widened and she felt a fresh surge of lust come from him but he only said, “Yes, Mistress,” and did as she commanded.

As she watched him, Lizabeth remembered Mistress Verlandah’s words from their time in the Tower…

“…sex—really good sex—is all about power,” the Mistress Superior had said. “Who has it…who can get it…who is willing to give it up and be powerless.”

It was a heady thought to realize that Lone—who was so much bigger and stronger than her—was willing to give up his power to her sexually. He could have held her down and had her any time he wanted but instead he was lying supine on the bed, awaiting her orders.

Lizabeth thought that she didn’t know many men who were confident enough in their own masculinity to do that—to let a woman take charge in the bedroom and follow her orders completely. But then, Lone had always been willing to serve her—it was one reason he remained her assistant even though both of them knew he’d been ready to be out on his own for the last two years.

For a moment she had fantasies of herself sitting in her office while Lone tasted her under the desk where no one could see, his face pressed between her thighs as he lapped her open pussy while Lizabeth took business calls and saw clients who had no idea a huge Kindred warrior was servicing her with his tongue while they talked.

Kinky, Lizabeth, she told herself. But let’s tend to the matter at hand first.

And currently the matter at hand was stretched out on her bed like a feast for the senses. Lone’s long, muscular body was the epitome of masculine beauty, she couldn’t help thinking. From his broad chest to his washboard abs to his powerful thighs and calves, he was absolutely gorgeous.

And absolutely mine, she thought and felt a surge of lust and anticipation run through her.

“I am here on the bed as my Mistress wishes,” Lone rumbled, looking up at her. “I am ready to serve in any way that I can, my Lady.”

He certainly was, Lizabeth thought, eyeing the thick shaft that rose from between his thighs. And she fully intended to make use of him.

“I can see that, Lone,” she murmured. She started to climb on the bed with him but her long, white lace gown was getting in the way. Though she never would have been so brave and uninhibited before, Lizabeth now felt secure in her beauty. With a little flourish, she pulled the gown over her head and tossed it away, baring herself completely as Lone was bared.

His gray eyes roved over her naked body and she felt a fresh rush of lust and desire coming from him.

“Gods, Mistress, so beautiful,” he growled hoarsely. “I want so badly to take you in my arms right now—want to run my hands all over your gorgeous, naked body and show you how much I desire you.”

“Be still, Lone,” she commanded when he would have reached for her. “I’m in charge here.”

“Yes, Mistress.” He subsided on the bed, his eyes heavy-lidded with need. “I am here only to serve you."

“And so you shall.” Climbing onto the bed with him, Lizabeth threw a leg over his lean hips and straddled him so that his stiff cock was just brushing against the lips of her pussy. Slowly, she took him in her hand and rubbed the broad head against herself—into herself. God, he felt so good sliding against her newly-healed and extra-sensitive clit! It sent tingles and chills all through her body to feel the wide, satiny tip of his cock spreading her pussy lips and rubbing against her.

“Gods, Mistress!” Lone’s eyes were trained on the erotic sight of his shaft almost but not quite entering her pussy. “Put me inside you,” he begged in a low, hoarse voice. “Ride me, Mistress—use me for your pleasure.”

His low, sexy words begging for such hot, naughty things seemed to melt Lizabeth’s insides. She’d been intending to tease him some more but suddenly she couldn’t wait any longer to have him inside her.

With a little moan of pure need, she fit the head of his cock to the mouth of her pussy and sank down onto him, taking his hard, thick length all the way inside herself.

God, it felt good! But for a moment Lizabeth had to pause and brace herself, her hands planted firmly on his broad chest, as she got used to having so much inside her. The inner walls of her pussy felt completely filled and stretched to capacity and she had to pause and adjust.

“Mistress?” Lone sounded a little worried. “Are you all right? I’m not hurting you, am I?”

“No, not hurting. Just…stretching,” Lizabeth told him. “I’ve, uh, never had you in me when I wasn’t having a needing attack, you know.”

“I know,” he murmured. “And as much as I loved helping you with your needing, I much prefer this—being inside you because you want me there, not just because you need me and have no other choice.”

“Well, you’re always my first choice now,” Lizabeth assured him. “God, you’re so big and hard!” She adjusted, shifting her hips to get him seated more comfortably inside her.

Lone groaned and she felt the pleasure her movement sent through him but he didn’t move, even though she could feel him dying to thrust. Well, she was dying for some action too, and she knew what kind she needed.

“Hold still,” she commanded him breathlessly. “Hold still while I ride you, Lone. Hold still while I fuck you.”

“Gods, yes, Mistress,” he groaned as she rose up until he was almost all the way out of her and then pushed back down, taking him deep inside again. “Yes, take me—fuck me,” he told her. “I am yours—use me!”

Lizabeth was more than happy to comply. Bracing herself more firmly on his chest, she began a torturously slow rhythm, rising and falling as she worked herself on his huge cock, feeling the delicious thrust and grind of his body in hers as she fucked him.

“God, Lone,” she gasped, throwing back her head as the pleasure built inside her. “God, you feel so good in me…and against me.” Her throbbing clit was rubbing right against his pubic bone, pushing her pleasure higher with each delicious thrust as she rode him.

Lone’s eyes blazed with need but still he didn’t move. She could feel him holding himself back by sheer force of will though he wanted badly to thrust inside her.

“Gods, Mistress, I love how you fuck me,” he growled, watching with heavy-lidded lust as she continued to grind against him. “Love the feel of your soft little pussy squeezing my cock. You’re so tight and hot and soft and wet—I can never get enough of you.”

“Can’t…get enough of you either,” Lizabeth moaned. Though she would have thought it was impossible after the intense orgasm he’d given her with his tongue, she was getting close to the peak again. “I’m going to come soon, Lone,” she told him, still moving against him. “Going to come…all over your cock.”

Two could play the talking dirty game, she thought. And indeed, Lone’s eyes widened and then went half-lidded with renewed lust at her naughty words.

“It will be my greatest pleasure to feel my Mistress coming on my shaft,” he growled softly. “Will I be allowed to shoot my seed deep in your pussy when you come, Mistress?”

“Not yet,” Lizabeth cautioned him. “This first time, I just want you to lie there and take it—feel my pussy clenching all around your cock—milking you. But don’t come. Do you understand, Lone? Don’t come.”

A look of need so fierce it was almost pain crossed his strong features but he only nodded.

“As my Lady wishes,” he murmured. “Fuck me then, Mistress—come on my shaft and use me for your pleasure. I am yours—do with me as you wish.”

“I will,” Lizabeth told him. Then, with a final hard thrust, she impaled herself completely on his thickness and felt her world exploding into colors and light as her second orgasm finally overtook her.

“Oh!” she heard herself moaning. “Oh, Lone…oh, yes!”

“Gods, Mistress…” His voice was hoarse with lust and need and she could feel the tension thrumming through his big body. “I can feel you coming all around me—your inner muscles squeezing me so tight! It’s almost like you’re trying to make me come too!”

“Not…not yet,” Lizabeth told him again, panting. For a moment she had to hang her head and catch her breath—the pleasure was still tingling through her body and her pussy was spasming hard around the thick invader she was impaled on. She knew what came next and she had to get ready for it—had to gather her strength and her stamina to get through it.

At last she looked up and met Lone’s eyes. This entire time while she used his big body for her pleasure, he had laid completely still, letting her work herself on him. Now, it was going to be his turn, Lizabeth thought.

“Lone,” she said, leaning down to stroke his cheek. “I release you. From this moment on, I’m no longer your Mistress. Now I want you to be my Master—and I want you to give me everything you’ve got.”

His eyes widened for a moment, then narrowed with understanding. A low growl that was almost a roar rose in his chest and then—in one smooth, sudden motion—he flipped her over so that he was looming above her, his thick shaft still buried to the hilt in her pussy.

“Lizabeth,” he murmured, his voice almost inhumanly deep as he looked her in the eyes.

The Dark Twin—that’s the Dark Twin coming out, she thought and felt a thrill of fear mixed with lust. Lone might be all sweetness and light when he was serving her in his Light Twin capacity, but his darker half was a little bit scary. Scary and sexy as hell, she admitted to herself. She just hoped she could handle him like this.

“Lizabeth,” he growled again, holding her eyes with his own. “You’re mine now. I let you fuck me and now I’m going to fuck you—going to ride your sweet pussy long and hard until I fill you with my cum and bond you to me forever.”

“Yes,” Lizabeth whispered breathlessly, a shiver of erotic delight shooting through her at the hot, dirty words. “God, yes Lone—make me yours! Yours forever.”

“Forever,” he agreed and began to move.

Had Lizabeth thought she was stretched to capacity before? Well, it was nothing to this—to the intense sensation of his thick shaft plunging inside her, fucking her hard and claiming her as his. The broad head of his cock gave the mouth of her womb a hard, deep kiss with every stroke he made inside her, shooting sparks of intense pleasure all through her. She found she was crying with wordless need and desire as she took all he had to give and more.

She closed her eyes at the intensity of the sensations running through her but then she heard Lone make a noise of angry protest.

“No, Lizabeth,” he told her in a low, commanding voice. “No, open your eyes and look at me. I want to see it in those gorgeous eyes of yours when I fill your pussy with my cum—when I fill you up and bond you to me.”

“Yes,” Lizabeth whispered, moaning softly, looking up at him. “Yes, Lone—oh yes, please.”

“I can feel you getting close again,” he growled, still thrusting hard and deep inside her. “Can feel you getting ready to come for me—come all over my cock. But I think you need a little something…more.”

Reaching down, he scooped his muscular arms under her thighs, splitting her even wider, opening her more for his cock so that he could get even deeper into her.

“Oh!” Lizabeth gasped as the new position made her feel even more intensely vulnerable. God, had she ever been so open for any man? She knew she hadn’t. It was scary and yet, it felt good too—good to give herself to Lone this way and let him pound into her and claim her in such a hot, primal way.

“Touch yourself, Lizabeth,” he growled, looking into her eyes. “Pet your pretty little clit while I watch you—while I fuck you. I’ll tell you when to come.”

“All…all right,” she half-moaned. Slipping her fingers between her legs, she stroked the throbbing little button as he continued to thrust hard and deep inside her. “Lone,” she gasped. “Oh, God…Lone…”

“That’s right, call my name when you come,” he told her, thrusting even harder. “Let me hear you call for me while I fill you with my seed—while I make you completely and totally mine.”

“Yes,” she cried. Her clit was aching with need as she stroked rapidly over her slippery folds. “Oh God, I’m so close…don’t know how much longer I can hold out, Lone!”

“Then come now, sweetheart,” he growled. “Come for me while I come inside you—while I tie us together for life.”

He leaned down and took her mouth in a kiss so heated it was almost brutal and at the same time she felt his cock thrust deeply into her and then swell even thicker, if that was possible. Then the first hot spurt of cum bathed the mouth of her womb and Lizabeth couldn’t help herself, she was coming again—coming so hard she actually saw stars exploding behind her eyes when she dared to squeeze them tight just for a moment.

When she opened them again, Lone was looking right at her.

“I love you, Lizabeth,” he growled softly. “Love you forever. Now you’re mine and I’ll never let you go.”

Holding her eyes with his, he came inside her and did as he had promised, tying the two of them together for life and eternity and all the lives after.

Chapter Twenty-four

“So you’re completely healed and the two of you are fully bonded now?” Kat asked as Liv bustled around, taking Lizabeth’s blood and putting the sample into a small, coffee-cup sized machine that buzzed and hummed quietly to itself in the corner of the exam room.

“Yes to both—fully and completely.” Lizabeth smiled at her friend.

“And how did you manage that, doll?” Kat asked, looking interested. “I mean not the healing—I’m not surprised about that. But the bonding? I’ve never heard of anyone who managed to have a complete bond with a Twin Kindred who’s missing his twin. To tell you the truth, I kind of thought it might be impossible.”

“What? You never told me that!” Lizabeth exclaimed. “If you’d told me it was supposed to be impossible—”

“You never would have tried it,” Kat said, smiling at her mischievously. “Besides, I had an idea that the Goddess would help the two of you out. You were meant to be together—that much is clear.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” Lizabeth said, giving her friend a grudging smile. “And as for the Goddess…” She paused, not quite sure how to continue.

“Well? What about the Goddess?” Kat asked encouragingly. “Go on—spill.”

“I don’t know if this will sound crazy or not,” Lizabeth said carefully. “But, well…when I was, uh, trying to figure out a way to bond with Lone, I heard this voice in my head and it told me exactly what to do.”

“That was the Goddess all right.” Kat nodded decisively. “She drops in from time to time when you least expect it. So go on—what did she tell you to do?”

“Well…” Lizabeth frowned thoughtfully. “It’s kind of complicated. You know how sometimes you don’t know with Twin Kindred babies which will be the Light Twin and which one will be the Dark Twin until a few weeks after birth?”

“I have heard that,” Kat said. “Although it wasn’t that way for mine. War and Peace were pretty obvious, right from the start.” She frowned. “And I would have thought that Lone would be the Light Twin for sure, even though his brother died at birth so his parents didn’t know.”

“I always thought so too,” Lizabeth admitted. “But while we were at the Tower of the Higher Mind some decidedly Dark Twin characteristics came out. Especially when he came to rescue me from those horrible Friezens.”

She shivered, remembering the bloody scene—then pushed it away from her mind. With Lone’s help, she was beginning to work through her trauma from that awful night, but she still didn’t want to dwell on it.

“Really?” Kat looked interested. “So he went all primal caveman on you, huh?”

“You have no idea,” Lizabeth told her. “And let’s just say he can be a, uh, primal caveman in the bedroom too. As well as going the other way and having me be in charge. So he’s kind of…two in one, if that makes any sense. Both the Light Twin and the Dark Twin in the same body.”

She couldn’t help smiling at the thought. Though Lone loved playing “Mistress and Novice” with her in the bedroom, he was just as happy to switch and be the stern Master from time to time. It kept things interesting to say the least.

“So you were able to bond with both halves of him, somehow?” Kat guessed.

Lizabeth nodded. “Exactly. Which made for some pretty wild bonding sex, I can tell you.”

“Oh, I just bet it did!” Kat giggled. “You bad girl, Lizabeth! You’re always so straight-laced and professional. I never would have guessed you had a kinky side!”

Lizabeth felt her cheeks getting hot with a blush but she couldn’t seem to stop smiling.

“Well kinky or not, it worked,” she said lightly. “We have the mental link and everything so I can always communicate with Lone even when we’re apart. Which isn’t very often,” she admitted, blushing harder.

“Oh, I know that freshly-bonded look,” Liv said, smiling at her as she came to sit beside Kat and across from Lizabeth. “You and Lone can’t get enough of each other, can you?”

“We really can’t,” Lizabeth admitted. “Which is one reason why Lone is having me do this silly test. Well—that and the way I’ve been throwing up every morning.” She gestured at the small machine still humming away. “I told him it was crazy and way too early to tell—I mean, we’ve only been fully bonded for a week. But, well…” She shrugged. “He insisted.”

“I would say that only one week in is kind of early to tell,” Liv admitted. “Maybe it’s a little bit of wishful thinking on Lone’s part. Does he want to be a daddy really bad?”

“I think he does.” Lizabeth bit her lip. “We’d both like to be parents but I think it would take a miracle. I mean, Lone doesn’t have a twin and I’m really too old so—”

Just at that moment, the little coffee-cup sized machine that Liv had fed the blood sample into dinged musically.

“Oh look—it’s already done!” Liv exclaimed, hopping up again. “Just a minute and we’ll see for sure.”

“Oh my goodness, doll!” Kat grabbed for Lizabeth’s hand. “I know you said it’s probably a no-go but I can’t help being excited.”

Strangely, Lizabeth found she couldn’t help it either. She tried to tell herself to be calm, that the test was sure to be negative. But she couldn’t stop her nerves from twanging like plucked guitar strings as Liv checked the machine and came back holding something hidden in her cupped hands.

“Well?” Kat demanded as Liv beamed at them. “Don’t keep us in suspense, Liv—show what came out!”

Wordlessly, Liv opened her hands and showed their contents to Lizabeth. There, lying on her open palm, were two small, perfect blue flowers.

“Oh…” Lizabeth’s heart suddenly started going so fast she felt almost faint. “Oh my God,” she said weakly. “Is that…does that mean what I think it means? Are they…am I…?”

“Sweetheart? Lizabeth?” Lone was suddenly at her side, striding in from the front of the med center. “Are you all right?” he asked, sinking down beside her to take her hand. “I just got done talking to Commander Sylvan and I felt you go all weak. I thought…”

His voice trailed off and his eyes widened as he started in the two blue flowers Liv was still holding. Then he looked at Lizabeth.

“Lizabeth,” he murmured. “Is that the result of your test?”

Slowly, Lizabeth nodded. “I…I think so.”

“It is.” Liv grinned at them both. “You’re going to be parents to twin baby boys! Congratulations!”

“Oh my God!” Lizabeth blurted and then she was crying and Lone had her in his arms and he was crying too and the intense loop of joy between the two of them was almost too much too bear.

“Twins,” he sent to Lizabeth through their link. “The Goddess is so good to us!”

“I didn’t think it was possible,” Lizabeth admitted.

“I did,” Lone said out loud. “I had…kind of a feeling it might be so, even before we came back to the Mother Ship.”

“What? How would you know that? And how could I have gotten pregnant before we came back to the Mother Ship?” Lizabeth demanded.

“Remember the second night’s feast—and the rocking chair?” Lone raised his eyebrows expressively.

Lizabeth felt her cheeks getting hot.

“But…but we weren’t fully bonded then. Don’t you have to be fully bonded to a Kindred to get pregnant by one?”

“Maybe not in this case.” Lone looked thoughtful. “I remember hearing from several people that the cleansing waters we went through when we first got to the Tower of the Higher Mind increased fertility. So maybe that made it possible for you to get pregnant, even before we completed our bond.”

“Wow…” Lizabeth shook her head. “Maybe so. I just can’t believe we’re having twins.”

“Well, you are bonded to a Twin Kindred,” Kat pointed out. She and Liv had been standing back tactfully, waiting for Lizabeth and Lone to finish sharing the news of their impending babies with each other before butting in. But both of their faces were wreathed in smiles and it was clear they were bursting to share in the joy.

“That’s true,” Lizabeth acknowledged. “But I still want Lone to explain how he could have had any kind of inkling I might have been pregnant even before we left the Tower of the Higher Mind.”

He grinned. “Because when I was taking you home the Goddess appeared to me—well, she filled the ship with her presence, anyway—and refused to let me fold space to get home.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t understand it at first—I was so upset I even tried to argue with her.”

“Argue with the Goddess?” Kat’s eyes got wide. “You’re braver than I am!”

“It wasn’t bravery, it was stupidity,” Lone said, smiling. “But she forgave me. Anyway, I forgot all about it until Lizabeth started having morning sickness and then I remembered it and I also remembered that pregnant women aren’t allowed to fold space. So…” He shrugged and smiled again.

“You didn’t even tell me!” Lizabeth exclaimed. “You just insisted I have the test—why didn’t you tell me you suspected?”

“I didn’t want you to be upset if it was a false alarm,” Lone admitted. “But it’s not,” he added. Taking the two blue flowers he stroked their petals reverently with one fingertip. “We’re going to have a family, Lizabeth. And you’ll be the most beautiful mother in the galaxy.”

“And you’ll be the most caring father.” Lizabeth hugged him again. “Oh Lone—I still can’t believe it!”

“I can’t either but it’s true—we’re going to be parents.” Lone grinned.

“Well, it sounds like congratulations are in order.” Commander Sylvan came around the corner into the exam room, a broad smile on his handsome face. He looked at Lone. “So your hunch was correct?”

“More than correct. Twin boys.” Lone showed the two perfect blue flowers off proudly. “Truly the Goddess has blessed us beyond measure.”

“She likes to do that,” Sylvan said, smiling wider. “She loves her children and wants them to be happy. And I think she knew the two of you would make excellent parents.” He clapped Lone on the back and nodded at Lizabeth. “And please don’t worry about the impending lawsuit with BleakHall. I’ll find another councilor to take over the case.”

“Don’t you dare!” Lizabeth exclaimed.

Sylvan looked surprised.

“But Councilor Paige, it’s going to be necessary. Carrying a Kindred baby—especially twins—can be very hard on a female’s body. And it was my understanding you didn’t want to go back to the Tower of the Higher Mind to get more, ah, instruction there due to what happened there.”

Clearly he was trying to be delicate and not mention how she’d been tortured. Lizabeth felt her hands get cold and her breath catch in her throat at the memory but she lifted her chin anyway.

“No, I don’t want to go back but Mistress Anarrah has agreed to tutor me over the viewscreen. And when it’s time to try the case, Lone and I can take a wormhole and go the long way around to Yonnie Six if necessary.”

“Well…” Sylvan blinked. “If you’re sure…”

“I am.” Lizabeth nodded firmly. “I’ve been told all my life that I chose my career over motherhood but I know now I can do both. Especially since I have a supportive and loving partner.” She smiled at Lone who gripped her hand and smiled back.

“You can count on it, sweetheart.”

“I know.” Lizabeth squeezed his hand. “You also might like to know that the Mistress Superior has been deposed and sent back to Yonnie Six in disgrace,” she added, speaking to Commander Sylvan. She had told him a guarded amount about what had gone on at the Tower of the Higher Mind and she knew he would want to know the end result.

“That sounds fair, considering what you and Lone said she was up to.” Sylvan nodded gravely.

“Mistress Anarrah will be the Mistress Superior now,” Lone said. “She will be a just and kind ruler of the Tower, I believe.”

“She’s already brought the women and children from the Friezen village where I was…was attacked…” Lizabeth cleared her throat. “Anyway, she’s already brought them up to the Tower. The women will be cared for and the children will be raised in a different environment—one that’s respectful of women.”

“I’m very glad to hear that,” Sylvan said.

“Yes, it’s about time somebody changed the awful way they do things there!” Kat exclaimed.

“Everything is going to be all right,” Lone murmured, putting an arm around Lizabeth’s shoulders and drawing her close. “I see the Goddess’s hand at work in all of this.”

“I prayed to her when…when I was in that awful tent,” Lizabeth told him quietly. “I prayed that she would help me and she sent you, Lone.”

“I’ll always come for you, sweetheart,” he said softly. “I just wish I could have gotten there sooner.”

“But if you had, you wouldn’t have had to heal me and we never would have gotten fully and properly bonded,” Lizabeth pointed out.

“True.” He put an arm around her and drew her in for a gentle kiss. “And if we hadn’t gone to the Tower in the first place, I never would have been your ‘Novice’ and started a partial bond.”

“About that,” Lizabeth said firmly, sitting up from the sweet embrace. “It’s about time you stopped being my assistant, Lone. We both know you’re ready to practice law on your own.”

“What?” He looked stricken and she felt his concern through their link. “Are you going to get rid of me now just because we’re bonded and you don’t think it’s appropriate to have a romantic relationship with your assistant?”

“Well, it’s not appropriate,” Lizabeth pointed out briskly. “But…” She leaned forward and kissed him. “It’s perfectly fine to have a relationship with your partner. I’m not getting rid of you, Lone—I’m promoting you. We’re going to be equal partners now, Councilor Stands Alone.”

“Oh!” He put a hand to his heart and smiled in relief. Kat and Liv laughed and Sylvan smiled as well.

“It sounds like the two of you have everything worked out,” he remarked. “I’m going to let you go but I want to see Councilor Paige back here in a few days for some prenatal tests.”

“I’ll get her scheduled,” Liv said, grinning. “Come on, Kat—let’s leave these two love birds alone while I pull up the schedule.”

They left Lizabeth and Lone, who couldn’t seem to stop staring into each other’s eyes and smiling. As she looked into Lone’s deep gray eyes, Lizabeth began to feel the familiar tingle of desire and she felt an answering wave of heat from Lone.

“I appreciate the promotion you know,” he murmured, stroking her cheek. “But I hope I can still be your Novice sometimes, Mistress. You know how I love to serve you.”

“Yes, I know,” Lizabeth said, smiling at him. “And in fact, I’m feeling in need of some ‘service’ right now.”

“Then let’s go back to our suite,” Lone suggested. Standing, he swung her up into his arms.

“Oh, Lone!” she gasped in surprise, but didn’t ask him to put her down. She knew by now he was plenty strong enough to carry her all over the place and in fact, she actually enjoyed it.

“Sorry, but I think it’s time you instructed your Novice on how best to meet your needs, Mistress,” he growled softly.

Lizabeth felt a wave of desire wash over her as she put her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a breathless kiss. She thought again of how blessed and happy she was and how lucky she and Lone were to have each other and the two new lives growing inside her.

Truly the Goddess had blessed them. And now, there was nothing she would rather do than spend the rest of the afternoon and evening Instructing her Novice.

The End?

Of course not! There are always more Kindred Tales coming. Those of you who follow me on Facebook may remember that I posted a while back and offered two plots for my readers' consideration. The first one was for Instructing the Novice—an older woman/younger man romance. The second was for another Giant Kindred book, about a Jor'gen Kindred who is a scientist who clones a human woman and falls in love with her. I asked which book I readers wanted and most of them replied, "Both!" So I wrote both, lol. You just read the first one, now read on for a taste of my next book, Awakened by the Giant—a Kindred Tale of the Jor'gen Kindred, coming in February.

Hugs and Happy Reading!

Evangeline

Before you go, if you've enjoyed reading Instructing the Novice, please consider leaving a short review HERE. Good reviews are worth their weight in gold to an author. They let other readers know it's okay to take a chance on a new series. Plus they give me the warm fuzzies. Thanks for being an awesome reader!

: ) Evangeline

Awakened by the Giant

a Kindred Tale of the Jor'gen Kindred

Chapter One

“Welcome, Calden. Thank you for coming to see FATHER. What guidance do you seek today?”

Calden of the Jor’gen Kindred shifted on the slightly-too-small stool which sat in the middle of the scanning booth. Everything aboard the Mentat station was too small for him but since he was over three meters tall, it wasn’t surprising. In the five years he had been living and working there, he had gotten used to accommodating himself to the smaller living quarters and furnishings. It was worth a bit of discomfort to do the work he loved.

The Jor’gen Kindred were a branch of the Kindred who had bonded themselves, against the High Council’s will, to a race of people who were thirty percent larger than most other humanoid races. They had lost touch with their Kindred brothers and then, as the High Council had predicted, they ran out of females to bond with. Because of a genetic anomaly, any joining with a Kindred warrior produced only sons, 99% of the time, which meant that the Kindred were always on the move, looking for new brides.

When the Jor’gen Kindred ran out of females, they built a Mother Ship and went in search of new females to bond with them. Their leader, Bram, was certain that the Goddess—the Mother of All Life whom all Kindred worship—would lead them in the right direction.

Calden had disagreed. He was an atheist and a scientist and he cared nothing for religion or wild hopes and dreams—or for females for that matter. He could happily live without a mate and so had taken a shuttle and had gone to live and work at the Mentat science station, a place where logic and reason were valued above all else. He had also taken the seed of a bonding fruit plant—a requirement for any Jor’gen Kindred who decided to leave the Mother Ship.

“I will never use this, you know,” he had objected when Ren, the science officer and his good friend, had given it to him on his departure. “You know how the Mentats are—you know the rules aboard the station where I’m going to work.”

“Nevertheless, you must take it,” Ren had insisted. “Bram wants to be certain that any warrior who leaves the Mother Ship has the means to bond with a chosen female if he meets one. And since we are so much larger than most of the people we can bond with, the bonding fruit is a necessity.”

“I will take it as a token and memento of my race,” Calden had agreed, relenting. “Though I know I will never use it.”

“Go in peace, Brother. And may the Goddess bless you,” Ren told him. “If you ever wish to join with us again, simply signal. Though we are going far from the Mentat station, I fear.” He frowned. “Still, we may hear you.”

“I will be certain to keep my shuttle tuned to the Mother Ship for as long as possible,” Calden had promised. He and Ren had embraced one last time and then he had left, going to his new life—a life of science and study and observation.

It was the life Calden had always wished for and he was happy here at the Mentat station. It was a bit cramped but since the race he now lived with was only half a meter or so shorter than he was, it wasn’t too bad. He had no problems living and working with the most logical beings in the universe, who valued reason over emotion. He fit right in with them and had no difficulty following their rules—even the more stringent ones most males would balk at.

But now he was here in the scanning booth asking to break one of those rules…or at least bend it a little.

“I am not so much in need of guidance as permission, FATHER,” he said, choosing his words carefully. The AI who oversaw and ran the Mentat station was a reasonable entity but some topics must still be approached with caution.

There was a moment while the soothing blue light which suffused the scanning booth flickered and then FATHER’s voice spoke in that same, soft, melodious tone.

“Very well, Calden. Explain.”

“The recovery droids have made an extraordinary find,” Calden said. “The remains of a spaceship—a colony ship, we believe. Its inhabitants must have been seeking a new planet to live on because there are frozen embryos of many different animals and cuttings and seeds of hundreds of plants.”

“A most stirring discovery.” The lighting in the scanning booth flickered faintly pink and FATHER’s voice sounded mildly interested, which for the Mentat AI was an extreme expression of emotion. “A whole new sentient alien race, you say—one none of us has encountered before?”

“Exactly.” Calden worked hard to keep the excitement out of his own voice, though it was difficult to contain himself. To his curious, scientific mind, this was like a biggest name-day present anyone could wish for. He was itching to start studying some of the new plants and animals but there was one in particular he wanted to study—if only FATHER would agree.

“What do you need permission for?” the AI asked, the lighting going back to soothing blue. “Why do you not begin your study of this new race at once? All knowledge is valuable, as you know.”

“Yes, of course.” Calden nodded. “But there is one specimen in particular that I wish to study. You see, FATHER, despite the many plant and animal samples we have acquired, only one member of the alien race who sent this space craft out in the first place has been recovered. The ship was torn in two—we speculate that it went through a wormhole and came out in the middle of an asteroid field. The front half was lost and only the back half—the storage area—remained. At least, that is the only part our recovery droids found. The body of the sentient being was discovered there.”

“I see.” FATHER hummed quietly to itself. “So only one sentient specimen remains and naturally you wish to grow a clone of it in the nutrient tanks and study it.”

“Naturally,” Calden said.

“Why must you ask permission for this, Calden?” FATHER asked. “Though you have not grown sentient specimens before, the protocol is the same as for non-sentient ones.”

“I must ask permission because…” Calden took a deep breath. “Because this particular specimen is…female.”

“Female?” The light in the scanning booth flickered again—this time turning an ominous reddish-orange. “Calden, you know our rules here. You were told when you first came to the Mentat station and were allowed to live and work with us. Females cause discord and illogical reactions among males. For this reason they are banned from our station with no exception.”

“Of course I know the rules and I am not seeking to circumvent them now,” Calden said quickly. “But this is the only sentient member of the crew left. She could teach us so much about the plant and animal specimens we have collected.” He sat forward on the too-small stool, his hands clasped on his knees. “FATHER, I swear that this female would not be sexually compatible with any of the Mentats aboard the station. She is too different physically for any of them to mate with.”

The Mentats were humanoid in some respects, having two eyes located on the front of their elongated heads, two nostril slits, a thin, lipless mouth, and a long, narrow torso from which two sets of arms sprouted. They were also bipedal and walked upright. But they kept their organs of reproduction tucked in a pouch under their narrow, pointed chins. And even if they had been able to breed with this new sentient species which had been recovered, their DNA was far too different to allow any kind of viable embryo to result.

“And what of yourself, Calden?” FATHER demanded in its soft, melodious voice. “Would you be able to mate with this female if you grew a clone of her in the tanks?”

“Certainly not,” Calden said firmly.

“Because you would not be a match genetically?” the AI probed.

“Well…” Calden cleared his throat and shifted uneasily on the stool. “As a matter of fact, our DNA is compatible—from what I have seen so far, anyway. But there is still no way that I would be able to mate with this female—even if I wanted to. Which I most certainly do not.”

“And why is that, Calden?” FATHER asked.

“Because of our size difference, FATHER. Even fully grown, this female would be no more than half my size. My, er…” He cleared his throat. “My shaft would never be able to fit inside her—again, not that I would want it to—rendering a mating between us completely impossible.”

“Hmmm…” The lights flickered again, this time to a thoughtful bluish-purple. Clearly FATHER was considering the proposition.

Calden waited anxiously, trying to appear relaxed. He took deep, even breaths and concentrated on keeping his heart rate slow and steady, knowing that the AI was scanning him all the time for untoward emotion. But how could he help being excited? This was the find of a lifetime—thousands of specimens from a whole new world—and this female could be the key to it all. She could tell him so much that wouldn’t be evident any other way. If only FATHER would agree…

“All right, Calden,” the AI said at last, breaking his train of thought. “Clearly you only wish only to study this female and not to breed with her. You are granted permission to grown a clone of your new specimen in the nutrient tanks—provided that she is implanted with a self-termination unit as with all live specimens.”

“Oh, but—” Calden started to protest.

“A self-termination unit is necessary,” FATHER’s soft voice repeated implacably. “This new specimen must not be treated any differently than any of the others, even if she is sentient. Also, knowing that she has a limited lifespan may discourage any untoward emotion between you.”

“If you are implying that I get emotionally attached to my work, FATHER I must protest,” Calden said, frowning.

“You did resist allowing the brantha specimens you were studying to terminate,” the AI reminded him softly.

Calden shifted again. “They were…small. And harmless. Also very affectionate. It would not have been a problem to allow them to continue living.”

“Calden, you know the station has limited resources.” FATHER’s soft voice was reasonable. “If every specimen that you started to have emotions for was allowed to live—”

“I don’t have emotions for my specimens,” Calden said, frowning. “I simply dislike waste. It seemed…unnecessary for the branthas to terminate.”

“Nevertheless, you know the rules, Calden. All specimens must have a self-termination unit implanted. Otherwise the station would be overrun with creatures we cannot accommodate.”

“Understood,” Calden said stiffly. “Thank you for permission to continue this new study, FATHER.”

“You are most welcome, Calden. You know that we find you a valuable addition to our scientific study here aboard our station,” FATHER said. “Keep up the excellent progress. And remember, all knowledge is valuable.”

“All knowledge is valuable,” Calden repeated, rising to go.

As he left the scanning booth, the lights flickered again and then resumed their cool, soothing blue tone. FATHER was quiescent once more, waiting for the next supplicant in need of help or guidance.

Calden knew the station was lucky to have such a benevolent overseer but sometimes he could not help chafing under the AI’s strict rule. Still, he had agreed to obey FATHER and to be held accountable by the AI for all his actions and emotions when he first came to live and work at the Mentat station so it was only fair that he keep his end of the agreement.

At least FATHER agreed to let me grow the new specimen. I’ll learn so much from her!

The hum of excitement in his veins wasn’t the Mentat way but as long as Calden kept the emotion hidden, what harm could it do? He strode back down the long, winding metal corridor of the circular station towards his own quarters with a spring in his step. Exploring and learning about this new find the recovery droids had brought in could be the work of a lifetime!

A very short lifetime—for the female, at least, whispered a little voice in his brain. Calden frowned as he placed his palm to the privacy pad and the metal door to his room slid silently open. Well, that was true. He would just have to make the most of the time he had with her and not think about her ultimate end.

And after all, he argued with himself, it wasn’t like the self-termination switch was a painful way to end existence. It was lodged in the brainstem, where all autonomic functions were located in most species. When the specimen’s time was done, the switch simply stopped the nervous impulses from the brain to the heart and lungs. The heart stopped beating and the lungs stopped drawing breath. Termination was almost instantaneous and entirely painless—or so Calden had been assured by the Mentats.

It will be fine, he told himself as he walked to his work station and logged in. He seated himself and began to work. To his right, growing in a little pot beside the 3-D monitor cube which hovered over the hand-board, was a small, green bush—a bonding fruit plant.

Calden still didn’t know why he had planted the seed and grown it in the first place. Maybe to remind him of his home world and the Kindred Brothers he had left behind. Though he found his work here fulfilling, he still missed Ren and Bram and the rest of his friends aboard the Jor’gen Kindred Mother Ship. He wondered if they had ever found a new race of females to bond with. Had they also planted bonding fruit seeds in the hope of finding new mates?

“Well if they did, I hope their seeds worked better than mine,” Calden muttered to himself as he studied the holo-cube of the 3-D monitor which glowed softly in the air in front of him. The seeds he had planted had resulted in a sickly, stunted piece of vegetation which had never bourn a single piece of fruit. It was almost as though the plant knew it wasn’t needed, so why bother to grow properly?

Which was a silly thought, Calden told himself. You couldn’t go around anthropomorphizing plants or getting attached to specimens like the tiny, fluffy branthas with their big eyes and their affectionate way of rubbing their heads against your hand as though begging to be petted and stroked. His heart fisted in his chest as he remembered the way the last of the little specimens—his favorite if he was being honest—had collapsed in his hands as he held it and stroked its lithe body, waiting for the inevitable end. His throat got tight at the memory and his eyes seemed to burn.

But that was emotion he was feeling—unnecessary emotion. He tried to push it away and concentrate on the task at hand.

Calling up the controls to the nutrient tank where he had already planted the DNA for his new specimen, he gave it the command to start the growth sequence. Luckily, the subject’s brain had been preserved, though the body had been frozen solid and mangled by some heavy machinery aboard the ship—she must have died of shock and been instantly frozen the moment her ship was torn in two and the vacuum of space found her.

Not a pleasant way to die but it was lucky for Calden. Her body was of no use since he intended to grow a new one anyway. But an undamaged brain meant that the clone he would grow in the nutrient tanks would have all of the original owner’s knowledge and the personality should be intact. It might take a little while for the memories to come back but that was just as well—it wouldn’t do to have her wake up in the tanks remembering the moment of her death. Such traumatic recollections could be emotionally scarring and were best left for later in the acclimation process.

She’s going to be perfect, Calden thought as he entered the command to begin accelerated clone growth. Perfect inside and out and I’m going to learn so much from her…

He had no idea how right he was…or how painful that knowledge would be.

Want more? Of course you do! Awakened by the Giant will be available in early February 2019. If you haven't joined my newsletter yet, be sure to scroll down and do so. That way you'll never miss a new book.

Hugs and Happy Reading!

Evangeline

Also by Evangeline Anderson

Brides of the Kindred series (Sci-fi /Action-Adventure /Romance)

Claimed     (Also available in Audio)

Hunted       (Also available in Audio)

Sought       (Also Available in Audio)

Found        (Also Available in Audio )

Revealed    (Also Available in Audio)

Pursued      (Also Available in Audio)

Exiled         (Also Available in Audio)

Shadowed  (Also Available in Audio)

Chained     (Also Available in Audio)

Divided     (Also Available in Audio)

Devoured    (Coming soon to Audio)

Enhanced

Cursed

Enslaved

Targeted

Forgotten

Switched

Uncharted

Unbound

Surrendered

Vanished

Imprisoned

Kindred Tales series (side stories in the Brides of the Kindred which are outside the main story arc. These can be read as STAND ALONE novels.)

Mastering the Mistress

Bonding with the Beast (Also available in Audio)

Seeing with the Heart

Freeing the Prisoner

Healing the Broken (a Kindred Christmas novel)  (Also available in Audio)

Taming the Giant

Bridging the Distance

Loving a Stranger

Finding the Jewel

Bonded by Accident

Releasing the Dragon

Sharing a Mate

Instructing the Novice

Awakened by the Giant (coming Feb 2019)

Born to Darkness series (Paranormal/Action-Adventure/Romance)

Crimson Debt (Also available in Audio)

Scarlet Heat    (Also available in Audio)

Ruby Shadows (Also available in Audio)

Cardinal Sins (Coming Soon)

Dessert (short novella following Scarlet Heat) (Also in Audio)

Alien Mate Index series (Sci-fi /Action-Adventure /Romance)

Abducted (Also available in Print and Audio)

Protected (Also available in Print and Audio)

Descended (Also available in Print and Audio)

Severed (Also available in Print and Audio )

The Cougarville Series

(Paranormal/Action-Adventure/Romance/)

(Older woman/Younger Man)

Buck Naked  (Also available in Audio)

Cougar Bait (Also available in Audio)

Stone Cold Fox (Also available in Audio)

Big Bad Wolf (coming soon)

The Institute series (Daddy-Dom/Age Play Romance)

The Institute: Daddy Issues(Also available in Audio)

The Institute: Mishka's Spanking

The CyBRG Files with Mina Carter

(Sci-fi /Action-Adventure /Romance)

Unit 77: Broken

Unit 78: Bred

The Swann Sisters Chronicles

(Contemporary Fairy/Funny/ Fantasy/Romance)

Wishful Thinking (Also available in Audio)

Be Careful What You Wish For (Also available in Audio)

Compendiums and Box Sets

Brides of the Kindred Volume One

Contains Claimed, Hunted, Sought and Found

Brides of the Kindred Volume Two

Contains Revealed, Pursued, and Exiled

Brides of the Kindred Volume Three

Contains Shadowed, Chained, and Divided

Brides of the Kindred Volume Four

Contains Devoured, Enhanced, and Cursed

Brides of the Kindred Volume Five

Contains Enslaved, Targeted, and Forgotten

Brides of the Kindred Volume Six

Contains Switched, Uncharted, and Unbound

Kindred Tales Volume One

Contains Mastering the Mistress, Bonding with the Beast, Seeing with the Heart

Kindred Tales Volume Two

Contains Freeing the Prisoner, Healing the Broken, Taming the Giant

Kindred Tales Volume Three

Contains Bridging the Distance, Loving a Stranger, Finding the Jewel

Alien Mate Index Volume One

Contains Abducted, Protected, Descended, and Severed

Born to Darkness Box Set

Contains Crimson Debt, Scarlet Heat, and Ruby Shadows

*One Hot Halloween

Contains Red and the Wolf, Gypsy Moon, and Taming the Beast

*Have Yourself a Sexy Little Christmas

Contains Kidnapped for Christmas, Cougar Christmas, and Seasons's Spankings

*Bound and Determined

Contains The Punishment of Nicolett and His Ward

Stand Alone Novels

(Sci-fi OR Paranormal Action-Adventure/Romance)

Purity (Now available in Audio)

Stress Relief

The Last Man on Earth

Anyone U Want

Shadow Dreams

Hunger Moon Rising

Cougar Christmas

Planet X (Also available in Audio)

Deal with the Devil (Also available in Audio)

The Sacrifice (Also available in Audio)

Blood Kiss

Take Two

The Pleasure Palace

The Last Man on Earth

Blind Date with a Vampire

Eyes Like a Wolf (Foster Brother romance)

*Defiled

*Ceremony of Three

*Str8te Boys (M/M romance)

* Forever Broken (M/M romance)

* Red and the Wolf

*Gypsy Moon

*The Last Bite (M/M romance)

*The Assignment (M/M romance)

* denotes books that are only available at Evangeline's Aliens and Alphas Bookstore

Naughty Tales (Short Reads to get you Hot and Bothered)

*Sin Eater

Confessions of a Lingerie Model

When Mr. Black Comes Home

Speeding Ticket

*Putting on a Show

YA Novels

The Academy(Now available in Audio)

*1. All Kindred novels are now available in PRINT just follow the links below to find both e-book and print formats on Amazon.

*2. Also, all Kindred and Kindred Tales novels are on their way to Audio, join my Audiobook Newsletter to be notified when they come out.

*3. Please note--these are Amazon/Kindle links. If you have a Nook or other reading device, please check my website for links to all other formats

*4. The books without links are exclusive to my own webstore--I can't put the links here or I'll get in trouble with the big A but if you go to my website http://evangelineanderson.com/you can find the webstore link where the exclusive books are kept. Just look for the logo! : )

About the Author

Evangeline Anderson is the New York Times and USA Today Best Selling Author of the Brides of the Kindred, Alien Mate Index, Cougarville, and Born to Darkness series. She is forty-something and lives in Florida with a husband, a son, and two cats. She had been writing erotic fiction for her own gratification for a number of years before it occurred to her to try and get paid for it. To her delight, she found that it was actually possible to get money for having a dirty mind and she has been writing paranormal and Sci-fi erotica steadily ever since.

You can find her online at her website www.evangelineanderson.com

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