Instructing the Novice Read online

  “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