Instructing the Novice Read online

  Instructing the Novice

  A Kindred Tales Novel

  Evangeline Anderson

  www.evangelineanderson.com

  Instructing the Novice, 1st Edition,

  A Kindred Tales Novel

  Copyright © 2018 by Evangeline Anderson

  All rights reserved.

  Cover Art Design © 2018 by Reese Dante

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writers’ imagination or have been used factiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to a retailer of your choice or evangelineanderson.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

  Cover content is for illustrative purposes only.

  Any person depicted on the cover is a model.

  Contents

  Instructing the Novice

  Author’s Note

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  The End?

  Awakened by the Giant

  Chapter 1

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  Also by Evangeline Anderson

  About the Author

  Instructing the Novice

  A Kindred Tales Novel

  A successful older woman determined to forgo love

  A younger warrior who desires her desperately

  When the two of them are sent to the sinister Tower of the Higher Mind

  Where Lizabeth is Mistress and Lone is her Novice

  Will it bring them together... or tear them apart?

  You’ll have to read Instructing the Novice to find out.

  Lizabeth Paige is mortified. Ever since a terrorist introduced the Xi-46 lust compound into the air ducts of the Mother Ship, she had been experiencing attacks of sexual needing that leave her helpless to resist her lustful urges. Much to her embarrassment, her assistant Lone helped her with the first attack, but she’s been managing on her own (though not very well) ever since. She feels drawn to Lone, but he’s much too young for her. Lizabeth tells herself it’s better if they keep their distance.

  Lone has been in love with his boss from day one. As a Twin Kindred who lost his twin at birth, he doesn’t think he can call a mate but he wants Lizabeth with his whole heart. Helping her through her first needing attack was like a fantasy come true but now, for some reason, Lizabeth is trying to cut him out of her life. Desperate to bring her closer, he is elated when the Kindred High Council decides to send the two of them to The Tower of the Higher Mind for some extra training.

  But there are dangers lurking at the Tower, which is located at the top of the Sacred Mountain. At its base live the Friezens—a tribe of savage, misogynistic natives who believe women are only useful for sexual-sacrifice. And in the Tower itself, some very strange customs hold sway. Lizabeth is now a “Mistress” and Lone must be her “Novice,” serving her in every possible way. Pulled between two extremes, will the terrors of the Tower draw them together…or kill them?

  You’ll have to read Instructing the Novice to find out.

  Author’s Note

  Please be aware that there is a scene in this book that readers who have suffered attacks or abuse may find triggering. Please read with caution. I promise it all turns out okay in the end!

  Evangeline :)

  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 protecti
vely. “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.