He shook his head, not in denial but as if to clear it, then looked around. “My ship is there.”
She followed his gesture and sighed with relief when she saw that it was close by. Only a couple of ships stood between them.
He blew out a few breaths, then dropped his hand and took two steps back. The rush of cold air almost took her breath away.
“I’m sorry, pet. I need to try and change form one last time, and I can’t do it if I’m touching you.”
“I understand.” She did her best to hide her shivers as she watched. He closed his eyes, and his skin trembled. Once again, blue fought for dominance, and this time he managed to resume a facsimile of his former appearance. The color was not quite right, and his horns were smaller and oddly transparent looking, but from a distance, she thought it would work. His skin glistened, damp with sweat, and she could see his arms shaking.
“Go,” he ordered. “As fast as you can. I’ll follow behind.”
She didn’t try to argue but took off for the ship. Fortunately, the sandals molded to her feet well enough that she didn’t lose her footing. She had never been much of a runner, but she did her best even though her breath was coming in rapid pants by the time she reached the ship. The distance had been further than it appeared. As soon as she reached the shadows beneath the ship, she turned to check on Aidon. He was close behind, striding rather than running, but she saw his horns flicker just as he joined her in the shadows. His breath was coming as quickly as hers, but he raised a shaky hand and manipulated a hidden control panel.
A ramp descended, and she made her way up it as quickly as possible. He was right behind her, and she heard him sniffing the air, followed by another low growl. By the time they were both on board, he was fully Pardorian again. He started to advance toward her, his steps predatory. She scrambled away, searching desperately for the controls. A large chair at the front of the ship looked promising, and she raced for it. He prowled after her, continuous low growls coming from his lips. She had no doubt that he could have caught her at any second, but when she snuck a glance at his face, he was obviously enjoying the chase.
“I can’t fly the ship,” she said breathlessly as he trapped her against the big chair. “You have to get us off the ground.”
Thankfully, her words seem to penetrate. He snatched her into his arms as he sat and quickly manipulated the controls. As they rose into the air, a Hothian voice demanded their identity. Aidon complied, his voice hoarse but legible. As soon as he did, the Hothian granted them permission to leave.
“Go in peace with our gratitude.”
Aidon growled a thank you, his hands—his clawed hands—already busy at the controls. Then they were rising into the dark skies, and he abandoned the instruments to focus on her.
“Autopilot,” he grunted, already reaching for the thin silk of her dress. She heard it rip as a big, hot hand closed over her breasts. “Now you’re mine.”
A tremor of nervous excitement rippled over her, but she wasn’t afraid. She reached up to cup the cheek of this new face, studying him in the dim light of the ship. He had a strong, angular jaw and high cheekbones, but his nose was flattened and almost muzzle-like, and gleaming fangs descended from each side of the wide mouth. They almost made her hesitate, but the black eyes watching her so intently were already so familiar. She lifted herself higher in his arms, brushing her lips softly against his. She heard him groan.
“What is this?” he began, but as he spoke, his mouth parted, and she took the opportunity to stroke her tongue inside. He tasted just as delicious here, and she hummed happily as she explored, carefully avoiding the sharp points of his fangs. She had barely gotten started when he seemed to catch on, and he immediately took over. He buried his hand in her hair, holding her in place as he plundered her mouth, his own much rougher tongue sending waves of excitement through her body as he demanded a response.
She felt a slight prick, then caught the hint of copper and realized he must have nicked her lip. He kissed her even more hungrily, using his other hand to rub her against the massive bar of his erection. The only thing separating her damp pussy from that heated length was the leather of his loincloth, and she tugged at it impatiently. When she finally encountered bare skin, he roared, and a sudden flood of heated liquid bathed her hand. Her immediate flash of disappointment was eased by the fact that he was still rock-hard beneath her hand. But then his body went still.
Could he have fallen asleep so quickly? She raised her head to look at him. His eyes were closed all right, but his head lolled to one side, and she realized that he wasn’t asleep. He was unconscious.
Chapter Ten
Panic assaulted Hanna as she scrambled quickly off Aidon’s lap. What had she done? She had known he was sick. How could she have attacked him that way? Not even a trace of liquor remained in her system to excuse her actions, but even without the alcohol, the attraction burned just as strongly. Pushing that knowledge aside to deal with later, she put a hand on his chest, his heartbeat reassuringly steady, as she tried to decide what to do.
For the first time, she took a good look at the ship. Calling it minimal would be an understatement. One side was lined with lockers, framing a bare desk with a video screen above it. The other side contained some banks of equipment she didn’t recognize. Two closed doors were on the back wall, behind where the landing ramp had folded up into the floor.
With an anxious look at Aidon, she went to explore. The first door opened into a narrow room that was recognizable as a small but functional bathroom. The other door opened into a bedchamber, the large built-in bed stretching the width of the ship. A large window was centered over the bed, and she could see distant stars whirling past. Could she get him back here? He would have to be more comfortable than slumped in the chair.
After returning to the front of the ship, she tried talking to him, shaking him, and even lightly smacking his face, but nothing she did caused a response. She tried lifting him further up in the chair, but after a few minutes of exertion, she had to give up. He was far too heavy to move.
Her next inspiration was to try reviving him with a wet cloth. She found another one of the towels in the bathroom and figured out how to work the controls enough to create a small trickle of water. The damp cloth didn’t work either, but when she flicked water on his face, his eyes finally opened, and she almost cried with relief.
His eyes were dazed, the normal solid black clouded with gray, but he blinked a few times and seemed to focus on her face.
“Saachi,” he murmured, a surprisingly sweet smile crossing his face before his gaze heated again. Her heart sank. He didn’t know who she was. The name he called her—was that his girlfriend? Perhaps even his wife? Everything had happened so quickly she had no idea if he was in a relationship or not. Shoving aside the surprisingly painful disappointment, she reminded herself of her purpose.
“Can you stand up? I think you would be better off in bed.”
The flames in his eyes intensified.
“Bed,” he agreed.
He tried to stand, but his legs wouldn’t hold him, and instead he collapsed forward, his head landing between her breasts as she tried to support him.
He made an odd sound, almost like a purr, and that rough tongue swept out to lick at her naked skin. The silk he had ripped earlier was no barrier as he nuzzled closer. She started to push him away, but then he found her nipple, lapping at it eagerly. The brush of his tongue across the sensitive flesh sent a pulse of desire through her body, and her hands tightened involuntarily on his shoulders. He purred again and drew the aching peak deep into his mouth, each long pull sending a corresponding tingle straight to her clit. She started to tug him closer, but her previous thoughts resurfaced, and the heat of his skin reminded her of his illness. The very fact that she managed to push him away indicated just how much it had affected him.
“Bed,” she reminded him.
He grunted and tried to stand again. This time she managed to we
dge herself under his arm. Her knees almost collapsed with his weight, but somehow, they managed to make it across the cabin and into the bedchamber. He collapsed onto the bed, his weight pulling her down with him so she was half under his big body.
She started to wiggle away, but he tugged her closer until his cock rested between her legs, the heavy weight pressing against her needy center. She half expected, half dreaded that he would resume his pursuit, but instead he buried his nose in her hair and purred again. Despite the rigid heat of his erection, he seemed content simply to hold her. As the minutes passed, she relaxed into his touch, and it wasn’t until she heard a soft rumble next to her ear that she realized he was asleep.
This seemed more natural than his previous unconsciousness, and she carefully wiggled free, trying not to wake him. He muttered something unintelligible as she slipped out of bed, but then he settled back down, and she breathed a sigh of relief.
That sense of relief disappeared as the hours wore on. Aidon never regained consciousness. Brief periods of natural-seeming sleep were the only respite from much longer periods of restlessness. During those times, he tossed back and forth as changes flickered across his skin in rapid succession. Even with what she had seen since she had been taken, she was shocked by the variety of aliens that he briefly transformed into. He even turned into a Derian as she was trying to bathe his forehead. She jumped back with a frightened cry, but his eyes flickered open when she cried out to reveal not that heated red glare but a familiar black gaze. A minute later, they closed again, but she was no longer afraid.
During his brief periods of restful sleep, she explored the rest of the ship. She took a lightning-fast shower, leaving the door open so she could hear him if he needed her, and replaced the torn silk dress with an oversize shirt from one of his storage lockers. His wardrobe seemed to consist entirely of black.
At first she was able to call him back when the spasms were the worst, but it finally reached the point where he no longer responded to the touch of her hand. In desperation, she even tried kissing him. For a brief second, he responded, but before she could feel relieved, his mouth went slack and his restless movements resumed.
One of the machines in the main cabin turned out to be some type of food replicator. Unable to read the instructions, she only succeeded in having it produce a sickly green wafer. Hunger drove her to take a cautious bite, but as soon as she swallowed, her stomach rebelled. Concentrating on her breathing, she finally managed to overcome the nausea, but her stomach felt horrible. As she bent over the sink, trying her best to avoid getting sick, she heard a soft clink as her necklace touched the metal. Her necklace! She opened the vial and put a drop on her tongue, giving a thankful sigh at the immediate relief.
As she replaced the stopper, a thought occurred to her. While it was true that Aidon’s problems didn’t seem to be digestive, Zemma had said only that it was an herbal remedy. She hadn’t restricted it to upset stomachs.
When Hanna returned to the bedroom, Aidon was once again thrashing restlessly. This time his skin had turned deep green, and a second set of arms wavered in and out of view. She looked at the bottle in her hand. What if she made the wrong decision? What if it turned out to be harmful?
But then Aidon gave a tortured cry. Gathering her courage, she collected another drop. His head rolled back and forth, but she kept her hand on his cheek until he finally stilled.
“Open your mouth, Aidon,” she urged. She had to repeat herself twice before the words finally seemed to penetrate and his lips parted. She immediately inserted the dropper between his lips. Her heart pounded as she waited for a response. Then his mouth closed around the slim glass tube, and he sucked eagerly. She pulled it away, afraid to let him have too much, but then his eyes opened, black and clear, and his skin changed from the dark-green scales to the velvety swirl of colors.
“You’re better!” And she burst into tears.
Aidon’s thoughts tumbled over each other as if they were falling a long distance. Memories flickered in and out, but only two things were clear—Hanna saying that she needed him and the feel of her in his arms, her mouth pressed against his, the delicious taste of her blood against his tongue. Her blood? His gaze flew to her mouth, but he saw no sign of damage. Tears were flowing down her cheeks, drowning the saachi blue of her eyes.
“I bit you.” His voice sounded hoarse and unfamiliar.
“What? No, you didn’t.”
“I tasted your blood.”
“You mean when we kissed? You just scraped me with one of your fangs. That’s all.”
“Kiss?” The word meant little to him.
Her cheeks turned pink. It seemed to be her only way of transforming, but it was delightful enough that he could not complain.
“When we pressed our mouths together.”
“And our tongues.” He remembered that as well. Her impossibly soft flesh probing shyly at his.
“Sometimes that’s part of a kiss as well.” The color on her cheeks darkened even further as she glanced at him from under her eyelashes. “Do you not kiss?”
He had never had the opportunity to become intimate with a Pardorian female, but he was quite sure that they did not. Their fangs would make it impossible.
“I do now,” he said firmly and watched as a fresh wave of color swept over her face. His thoughts were beginning to clear, and he wrestled himself into a seated position. She rushed to assist him, but as soon as she touched him, an intense wave of lust flooded his system.
“Don’t,” he said hoarsely.
She flinched away, her eyes wide and hurt.
“I am not myself. The shifting sickness still has me in its grasp, and it’s difficult for me to control my need for you.”
“Oh.” Blunt little teeth worried her lower lip before she burst out, “Who is Saachi?”
“It is a flower, a rare flower that grows on Pardor. Why?”
Her eyes dropped, and she played with the hem of her shirt. No, not her shirt—his. He wanted to roar with satisfaction at the sight of her wrapped in his clothing, but he focused on his question.
“You called me that. I thought perhaps you had confused me with another woman.”
“I could never confuse you with another female,” he said honestly. “Your eyes are the color of the saachi in full bloom, and your scent reminds me of them.”
She looked up and gave him a shy smile. “I like that. It’s prettier than ‘pet.’”
“I seem to remember that you quite enjoyed being my pet.”
Her teeth worried her lip again, but then she took a deep breath and looked straight at him. “I did.”
It took all his self-control not to reach for her, not to reward her for her honesty, and not to show her just how enjoyable it could be between them, but his self-control was still shaky. In fact, it was a miracle that he had any at all. The few times he had encountered the shifting sickness, the only thing that had revived the victims was returning them to Pardor.
“How did you bring me out of the sickness?”
“It was this.” She held up a small crystal bottle dangling from a chain around her neck, and he recognized the necklace the Hothian female had given her. “Zemma offered it to me to help me recover from the aftereffects of that drink, and then she gave me the necklace when we parted. I didn’t know if it would help you, but I didn’t know what else to try.”
He licked his lips and detected a faint herbal taste.
“Sothiti? She gave that to you?”
“Yes. Is that bad?”
“Not at all. It’s a very valuable gift. The Hothians produce it as their main export. No one else has been able to synthesize it, although that was Chotgor’s intention.” He shook his head grimly. “I don’t know how close he was to succeeding before I blew up the lab, but if it is possible, any protection the Hothians currently enjoy from Imperial rule will vanish.”
“Imperial rule?” A startled laugh escaped her lips, and she immediately looked embarrassed. “I’m
sorry. It just sounds like something out of a movie.”
“A movie?”
“Fictional entertainment on a screen,” she explained. “You have those, right?”
“Of course. We call them vids.”
He could feel the sickness still waiting at the back of his brain, like an arslan waiting to pounce, but he had things to do before it emerged. He swung his feet to the ground and forced himself to his feet. His knees shook with an entirely unacceptable weakness, and Hanna started to dart toward him. He growled, and she stopped, immediately twisting her hands together.
“I hate not being able to help you.”
The ache in his chest that he had experienced before when she expressed concern for him returned. No one helped him. He had learned early to help himself.
“It is my job to take care of you,” he muttered, then softened his tone at the look on her face. “It is my privilege as a warrior.”
He spoke the truth—it was a warrior’s privilege to care for his mate—but he had to remember she did not belong to him.
Using the walls to support his body, he made his way first to the sanitary facility and then to the pilot’s console to check their course. Thankfully, although he remembered little about their departure, he had apparently been sufficiently coherent to set the autopilot correctly.
“Could you show me how to use the food machine?” Hanna asked shyly. “It made this green thing before, but it made me feel sick.”
He closed his eyes in horror. “That bar is designed to feed livestock. No wonder it did not suit your system.”
The machine was simple enough, and she picked it up quickly, but before they could eat, a wave of sickness swept over him. When it retreated, Hanna was staring at him.
“You changed again. I thought you were better.”
“I told you the truth before—the only cure is to return to Pardor.” He managed to stand, then started wobbling toward his bed. If he collapsed out here, she would no doubt try and get him back to bed, and he didn’t know if he would be strong enough to resist her touch.
Hanna and the Hitman: A SciFi Alien Romance (Alien Abduction Book 8) Page 7