Instructing the Novice Read online

  “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 a