Instructing the Novice Read online

  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.

  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