a Pleasure Rites, #1 by Ines Johnson (reader novel .TXT) 📕

Elder Gerry must've seen the confusion that rested on Jian's face because he continued to clarify his lesson.

"You are still carrying the wounds of the incident from years ago."

Jian knew Elder Gerry no longer spoke of the wound from the dog's bite. He spoke of Jian's ill-fated love affair

"What would happen if you looked past the scar she left? Past the blame? Past the inward growling and snapping you do to yourself? What would you find?"

Elder Gerry didn't wait for Jian to answer. With one more squeeze and a nod, his open expression disappeared. It morphed once more into serenity, and the old man walked on.

Jian carried heavy feet over to a waterfall installation within the communal sanctuary. He reached a hand into the soft transparency of the fall, marveling that something so soft had the power to wear down vast lands. Much of the original continent of the north was under water, unable to withstand the power of water's insistence.

Jian folded his wet hand into his lap. He entwined his fingers, wet overlapping dry, and closed his eyes. Elder Gerry thought Jian should pause. And so he did. Tapping into the energy around him, Jian began to center his mind. He settled himself and peeled back the layers of that time five years ago.

In an instant, Jian felt drenched with sweat. The wound, though old, had never been treated. Beneath the surface, it festered. His heart became heavy. His hands began to shake. He could not go and do his duty to Lady Chanyn in such a condition. He would have to tend to this matter another time. He quickly packed the wound once more and focused on emptying his mind of all thought and feeling.

An hour later, he felt strong in body and spirit. Jian left the temple and headed towards his duty. But coming upon the home of Lord Dain brought to mind the memory of the last big house he'd been in before this one. He hadn't packed the old wound tightly enough, and it broke free and surfaced like a geyser.

Five years ago he'd come to a home like this one, prepared to offer for the woman he loved. Dressed in a regular man's clothes of slacks and a cotton shirt, Jian knocked on the door. When the door opened he was met by a number of men. They'd thrown him to the ground.

It had been raining earlier and he landed in the mud. His fine clothes ruined, but worse, when he glanced up he'd seen her in the second story window, watching. Her eyes looked at him as though she'd never known him. As though the sweet nothings she’d boldly whispered never passed her lips. With one final glance at Jian covered in the refuse of the street, she turned from the window and back to the luxuries within her home.

It was the second time Jian had been thrown out of a home. The first had been his mother's. Jian blinked back the memory, trying to stuff the old hurt down once more.

Though Lord Dain had invited him back, Jian took the steps warily. What would he feel if he looked past the blame? Jian knew the answer to that. He didn't need to unpack the wound from five years ago; there was a wound that preceded it. Beneath the second wound of rejection lay a foundation of hurt, of grief. The knowledge that he was not worthy of love. Not even from his own mother.

Jian took another moment to call to the Goddess for peace. And then he rang the doorbell.

A manservant answered the door to Lord Dain's home and Jian was admitted without ceremony. He found his own way to Lady Chanyn's room. He raised his hand to knock, but before his knuckles met wood, the door was thrown open.

Lady Chanyn stood on the other side. Eyes wide, a bit breathless, completely lovely.

"Lady Chanyn." Jian lowered his gaze and bowed.

When he rose she was frowning at him. She gave a barely perceptible nod of what seemed like acceptance and then stepped aside to allow him in.

The door closed them in and Jian had a moment of panic. She was barely covered. Her scent caught his nose and he swallowed. Big mistake. Her sweet taste now rolled on his tongue and down his throat.

Jian made a sound to clear his throat. Before he could speak, Lady Chanyn beat him to it.

"I'm really sorry, Jian. I see now that I have so much to learn."

As she spoke, Jian noticed something different about her. There was a determined set to her jaw, a steely resolve in the way she held her shoulders. The eyes that had been so innocent only a day before looked aged with some new knowledge.

"Please allow me to take the full weight of the blame," he said. "As your instructor, I should have informed you of the rules and expectations before beginning the lesson."

She smiled up at him, relieved. It was so easy to get lost in the pool of churning gold and bronze that were her eyes. Captivated by her gaze, Jian felt fullness settle in his body.

"I'll listen to you this time," she said. "I promise."

Jian nodded, still held in her gaze. A calming motion slowly crept up his arm. He realized it was his doing. Her hands were in his. He didn't remember reaching for them. His thumb traced a circular pattern in her palm. It was an erogenous zone. The zone connected directly to a woman's core.

Jian also noticed they stood thigh to thigh. Though he didn't remember stepping into her. With one of his thighs placed between hers, he could feel the heat emanating from her.

"I have something for you." Chanyn withdrew a package from the side table and handed it to him. Jian began to protest as she placed the package in his hands. It was improper for hounds to receive gifts directly. They were a communal lot and shared