Hanna and the Hitman: A SciFi Alien Romance (Alien Abduction Book 8)

by Honey Phillips

  At one point, she woke up enough to realize that the fountain had been replaced by a stone circle and two males were fighting. Still dazed, she watched as one of them tore out the other’s throat. Underneath her stupor, horror awaited, but she let the liquor overtake her once more. As she slipped into golden darkness, she realized that Aidon had given her the drink deliberately to make this easier for her.

  The next time she was aware of her surroundings, two silvery aliens were dancing in the center circle. No, not dancing. They were fucking, but their moves were so slow and graceful that it was easy not to notice it at first. As she watched the male twirling the female gracefully on his cock, she felt an answering flush of desire. Aidon’s cock was still beneath her hand, and she squeezed it. He jerked at her touch, and his hand tightened over hers warningly, but she ignored him.

  Enough of the liquor remained in her system to give her the courage to slide her hand beneath the leather of his loincloth. Hot flesh filled her hand, rock-hard yet cloaked in velvety smoothness. She ran her fingers up and down, exploring. Unlike a human penis, his didn’t have a single smooth column of flesh. Instead, thick veins formed a tantalizing pattern. What would that feel like inside her? she wondered dreamily and wiggled closer, trying to rub her breasts against the hard muscles of his thigh.

  “Looks like your pet is finally feeling the effects.” The booming voice was muffled by the aftereffects of the liquor, but she felt Aidon tense.

  She tried to give him a soothing pat but accidentally brushed against his cockhead, and her fingers came away damp. Curiosity drove her to lick one, and she hummed happily as the sweet liquid coated her tongue. Determined to taste more of him, she buried her head beneath the leather and took him in her mouth. Oh yes, that was even better.

  His girth stretched her mouth wide, but she ignored the slight ache, sucking eagerly, determined to get more of that delicious taste. His hand clenched in her hair, and even though his voice urged her on, she suspected he was trying to pull her away. She ignored his efforts, delighting in the way he quivered beneath her touch as she did her best to take more of him. As he reached the back of her throat, she hummed again and swallowed around him. He erupted in her mouth, filling her with his delicious taste as she gulped him down.

  With one last lick, she emerged from under the leather flap and smiled up at him. To her dismay, his face was harsh and strained. She bit her lip uncertainly, but he gave her head a gentle stroke, and she relaxed.

  A loud roar came from next to them, and she looked over to see Zemma mimicking her position. As Chotgor withdrew from her mouth, he too gave her an approving pat. Zemma nestled into his touch, but Hanna could see her face, and the other female didn’t look happy.

  The full impact of their position rushed over her as the last of the golden haze vanished. Her pleasure disappeared, and she had the sudden desire to burst into tears. Aidon’s fingers tightened in her hair again, and she welcomed the slight tug, the reminder that she was not here alone in this terrible place.

  “She might not be trained, but she’s got good instincts.” Chotgor laughed, and Aidon forced an answering grin. Every instinct he possessed was screaming at him to take Hanna out of this place. To his shame, he had been unable to resist her sweet mouth closing around him and had given in to temptation. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had allowed his body to control his behavior. But even coming in her mouth hadn’t been enough. Thousands of years of predatory instinct urged him to flip her over and bury his cock in her sweet little cunt, to prove that she belonged to him, to plant his seed—plant his seed? What the fuck was he thinking? He had no intention of ever fathering a child, of subjecting an innocent to the rejection that had haunted him.

  Hanna seemed to sense his tension, her eyes worried as she looked up at him, but when he stroked her head, she gave him a shaky smile and settled back against him. Her face was nestled on his thigh, and he could feel the heat of her breath through his loincloth. His cock started to stiffen again, but this time he managed to keep it under control.

  Chotgor yawned and stretched. “Let’s talk. I have a proposition for you.”

  Aidon suppressed a groan and nodded encouragingly. After three hours of listening to the bastard talk, of watching his depraved floor show, all Aidon really wanted to do was plunge his knife into that grinning face. But he had a mission, and perhaps this would give him an opportunity to get the male alone. He had seen enough over the past few hours to be convinced that Zemma wanted out. She smiled and nodded and acted appropriately submissive, but he could see the frustrated rage in her eyes.

  “What do you have in mind?”

  Chotgor looked around, then shook his head. “Not here. Come with me.”

  As he rose to his feet, Chotgor pushed Zemma to one side, not roughly but with the casual dismissal of an unwanted pet. Once again, Zemma’s eyes flared before she ducked her head.

  Aidon rose to his feet as well, but he drew Hanna up next to him.

  “No need to bring the females along,” Chotgor said dismissively.

  Aidon raised an eyebrow, looking around the room that had dissolved into an open orgy with the last show.

  “I have no desire for someone to make the mistake of thinking my property is available.”

  “Perhaps you’re right. She can’t fight them off the way my pet can.” Chotgor summoned a guard. “Take these two back to my room. If anyone lays a hand on them, remove it.”

  He could feel Hanna trembling against his side, and he tried to think of a reason to object, but before he could speak, she straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. She brushed her fingers lightly against his back before stepping closer to Zemma.

  His fists clenched involuntarily as he watched the two females leave with the guard, Hanna’s head still held high. He hated letting her out of his sight, but for all their faults, Bukharans had a reputation for obedience. The guard would look after both females. And getting them away from the rest of the crowd would make it easier to get them both out.

  Chotgor had already turned his back on the trio and was heading for a concealed door at the back of the dais. On the other side, a surprisingly businesslike office waited. It lacked both the overblown gaudiness of the outer part of the residence and the over-the-top luxury of the fountain room.

  Chotgor settled into a well-worn chair behind a big, scarred desk and folded his hands together, studying him thoughtfully. The jovial drunk of the previous few hours had disappeared, replaced by a cold, sober businessman.

  “Now. Why don’t you tell me who you really are?”

  Chapter Seven

  Hanna felt like a child as she followed Zemma and the guard. The other female must be well over six feet and the guard another foot taller. As much as she had bemoaned her height growing up, she suddenly understood why her shorter friends had been equally dissatisfied.

  Her head ached, and her stomach churned, partially from the aftereffects of the liquor but also from embarrassment. Everything about this situation, not just finding herself in this alien universe, was new to her. She had never felt such an intense and overwhelmingly sexual attraction to a man before. She had dated, of course, and had had a few mild relationships. She had even been considering marrying her aunt’s accountant. John was a kind older man who had shepherded her through the miserable days after her aunt’s death and who wanted nothing more than to take care of her. But she had never wanted to throw herself at him, never wanted to climb his body or take his cock in her mouth with a desperate hunger. She couldn’t even honestly blame the liquor. By the time she had gone down on him, her inhibitions might have been loosened, but she’d known very well what she’d been doing.

  Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t notice another alien approach until a furred hand grabbed her arm. She gasped, and the guard whirled, a sword appearing in his hand. A second later, there was a yowl of anguish, and the hand lay twitching on the ground. The guard had taken Chotgor’s order literally. Her stomach churned, b
ut then Zemma grasped her hand and tugged her quickly away.

  “Don’t react,” Zemma whispered. “Don’t show any sign of weakness.”

  Thick saliva filled Hanna’s mouth, but she managed to choke down the sickness and keep pace with Zemma as she moved on without a backward look. They passed through a maze of corridors before the guard opened a set of double doors and ushered them inside.

  Another quietly luxurious room, but she couldn’t help noticing the massive bed dominating the rear of the room—and the chains dangling from its posts. Zemma moved to a built-in bar area and took off one of her necklaces. It looked as if it was simply a big blue crystal dangling from a chain, but Zemma twisted it open to reveal a small vial. She let a drop fall into a small glass of liquid, then returned and handed the glass to Hanna.

  “Drink this. It will help.”

  “What is it?”

  “Just a healing remedy. It won’t harm you.”

  Hanna studied the strange, white-furred face but saw only concern in the other woman’s eyes. With a shaky smile, she lifted the glass and drank. The cool liquid had a faint herbal taste, and it flowed easily down her throat, calming her still unhappy stomach.

  “Oh, that’s much better, thank you. I’m Hanna. Are you—”

  “Strax, would it be all right if I showed Hanna the garden?” Zemma interrupted, shooting Hanna a quick warning look.

  “Yes, Mistress.” The guard bowed his head, then opened another set of doors that led to a small garden. Like the fountain room, it appeared to be open to the starry sky above, but the temperature was as warm as the bedroom. A high wall surrounded the space, and small decorative lights indicated a path through the greenery. After a brief inspection, the guard bowed his head again and let them enter. He gave Zemma a quick, almost longing look, then closed the doors quietly behind them.

  “Mistress?” Hanna asked, wondering if she had misinterpreted Zemma’s desires after all.

  “It is a courtesy that the guards offer me. Chotgor allows it because it amuses him.” The bitterness in Zemma’s words was only too clear despite her low voice. “As long as you keep your voice down, you may speak freely out here. I suspect the bedroom is monitored.”

  “Njkall sent us,” she whispered. “To see if you want to leave?”

  “Leave? Of course I want to leave! But one fighter and his slave aren’t going to be enough to get me out of here. I’m such a fool.”

  “Aidon is more than he appears,” she said as confidently as possible, although she couldn’t help but wonder what he had in mind. Guards were everywhere in the mansion. “How did you end up here?”

  “Like I said, I am a fool.”

  Zemma started pacing along the path leading through the garden, and Hanna fell into step beside her. Despite her concern for the other woman, part of her couldn’t help noticing the graceful design of the garden and the delicate beauty of the plant life.

  “I met Chotgor at a party he gave—not one of these parties, but one designed to appeal to some of the more respectable merchants. Can you believe I actually sought him out? I was trying to find out what happened to my brother. He went off world many years ago, and we recently heard that he was a fighter. Chotgor knows everyone on the circuit, and I thought he could help.”

  “You went to him for information?”

  “Yes. In my naivety, I thought perhaps I could seduce some answers out of him. Instead, he seduced me.” A wry smile twisted her lips. “I actually thought he was exciting. He can be very charming, you know.”

  Hanna thought back over the part of the evening she remembered and the male’s booming laugh. She supposed it was possible.

  “Did you get the information you were looking for?”

  “Yes and no. I know my brother is alive and that he is still fighting. I don’t know if he doesn’t want to return—or if he’s not permitted to return.” Zemma sighed. “There was a terrible argument when he left, but if there’s a chance that he is being held against his will, perhaps I can convince our Elders to investigate. If I get a chance to see them again.”

  “You will,” Hanna said quickly, but the other female simply bowed her head and kept walking.

  “Where are you from?” Zemma asked suddenly.

  “From a planet called Earth.”

  “Do they allow females their freedom there?”

  “I suppose so, although it varies.”

  “The Hothians don’t,” Zemma said bitterly. “Females are rare and precious and treated like these flowers—enclosed by walls and protected from all strangers. It took two years of pleading to be allowed to visit Port Eyeja. Chotgor was the first male I ever met who didn’t act as though I was too precious to touch, and I liked it. He could—and he still can when he chooses to—bring me great pleasure. It wasn’t until after he brought me here that I realized the reason he didn’t treat me as someone special was because he didn’t value me. He’s simply amused by the thought that he has a rare Hothian female in his bed.”

  They had made a complete circuit of the small garden, and Zemma slumped down on a decorative bench outside the bedroom doors. Hanna sat down next to her and waited silently.

  “He won’t let me talk to anyone outside the compound, and he’s made it pretty clear that I can’t leave,” Zemma finally continued. “I tried to play along, hoping that he’d get tired of me and let me go, but he’s begun talking about taking me with him when he leaves.” She shuddered. “I have to get away from him!”

  “We’ll get you out,” Hanna said, trying to sound confident.

  Zemma snorted. “How?”

  That was when the sky lit up.

  Chapter Eight

  “Why do you think I am anything other than what I am?”

  Aidon kept his voice calm, but inside his boots, his natural claws started to extend. Fuck. He forced his body back under control before he could rend the leather, barely managing to prevent a shift back to his natural form. His time was running out.

  “You’re no more a dumb aging fighter than I am. Remember that I’ve seen you fight. You can learn a lot about someone from how he fights.”

  Aidon wondered if Chotgor realized the irony of that statement. He had seen the other male fight as well. He was strong, fast, and brutal—and he fought dirty, using any trick necessary to win the match.

  “You used your wits as well as your strength,” Chotgor continued. “So tell me the real reason you’re here.”

  He abandoned his own pretense of drunkenness and said calmly, “Retirement has not been as interesting as I had hoped. I am, quite frankly, bored. I did come here looking for entertainment, but I’m also looking for an…investment opportunity.”

  “I see.” Chotgor tapped his claws on the desk. “Tell me. What did you think of my companions tonight?”

  Aidon hesitated, then went with honesty. “Half of them are devoted to you, and half of them hate your guts.”

  “Half?” Chotgor tilted his head. “I would have guessed one-third, but perhaps you are right. Sometimes I miss the fight pits. Life was much simpler then—kill your opponent before he killed you.”

  “You don’t seem to have suffered from hanging up your weapons,” he said dryly.

  Chotgor laughed and abandoned his attempt at nostalgia. “Perhaps not. Let me show you something.”

  Chotgor’s hand disappeared beneath his desk, and a moment later, the wall behind him slid open. Interesting. That had not been on the plans. Aidon kept his face impassive as he followed Chotgor through into what could only be a laboratory. Tables cluttered with equipment were scattered about the room, an assortment of liquids bubbling quietly. It must have been the original ballroom, he decided, but the tall, arched windows that lined one wall had been covered with black paint, and the inlaid floor was marred with scratches and chemical stains.

  “Drugs?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “They can be profitable, but the production and distribution is quite tedious.”

  Chotgor barked a laugh. “You are
partially right, but you need to think more expansively. What is Hothrest’s number one export?”

  “Sothiti,” he said immediately. The healing drug had an almost miraculous ability to work on a wide variety of species. “But no one has ever been able to synthesize it.”

  “No. And as a result, the Hothians have been permitted a great deal of independence from the Empire. If that were no longer the case, that protection could be withdrawn and there would be an entire planet of fighters ripe for the pits.”

  “Not to mention the value of the drug itself,” Aidon said dryly.

  “Of course. The possibilities are almost limitless, but the supply would need to be controlled. If it were too easily available, it would lose its value.”

  “Agreed. But why are you telling me this?”

  “I believe we are close to succeeding in reproducing it. It was always theorized that sothiti was derived from plants. Instead, it appears to be created from a parasite. We managed to obtain a very small sample at great cost. If our testing proceeds as my scholars anticipate, we could be only a few months away from experimenting on live subjects.”

  “Congratulations.” He forced his face to remain calm even though the male’s words horrified him. “I’m still not sure how I come into this?”

  “It has been an expensive process, and I don’t expect to be able to reap the rewards for some time. I need to return home for the next fight season to make sure that the fights provide sufficient income to continue the project, but someone must remain here to oversee.”

  “You’re asking me?” Aidon didn’t bother to conceal his astonishment. “You have a room full of males.”

  “As you pointed out, only half of them are loyal, and the loyal half lack intelligence. Unfortunately, it’s the intelligent ones who hate me.” Chotgor bared his teeth. “You are intelligent and you have no reason to hate me. And loyalty can be bought.”