Hanna and the Hitman - Honey Phillips Page 0,12

at least one way—he would be sick unless he returned to Pardor—but that planet had never been his home.

They continued down the street in silence, with Hanna darting interested glances around at the variety of wares on display. Despite its undesirable aspects, a lot of credits flew through Port Eyeja, and almost everything was for sale. Her eyes widened at the sight of a naked Tatvar reclining in an open window, a male drinking from each of her four nipples, their faces lost in ecstasy. The Tatvar, on the other hand, simply looked bored. A line of males waited their turn in front of the establishment.

Two blocks later, Hanna almost stumbled to a halt when a snake-like male undulated his head out of another window.

“Care for a bite, pretty lady? Guaranteed to bring pleasant dreams.”

Aidon knocked the male’s head away and drew her closer.

“What was that?” she asked, looking back over her shoulder.

“Mogrol,” he said briefly. “Their bite is addictive.”

More questions erupted as they continued down the street, but he found her wide-eyed curiosity entertaining. The short day was already turning to afternoon, but the pale sun had broken through the clouds, the air was crisp and cold, and he felt almost normal. Like any male escorting his female through town.

That pleasant illusion disappeared as soon as they turned down the street leading to Chotgor’s opulent residence. He might only be renting the place, but he had already marked it with his presence. Large video screens on either side of the entrance gate displayed a continuous loop of famous fights. Hanna gasped as she watched a huge dark-skinned Sardoran launch himself through the air and bury a knife in the back of an even larger Chulun.

Aidon turned to her and unwrapped one of the delicate gold chains from around her waist before fastening it to his cuff.

“In here, you are my slave. Can you do that?” He heard her breath catch, but she nodded. “It’s not too late,” he added. “I can take you back to Njkall.”

She took a deep breath, then lowered her eyes and bowed her head. “No, Master.”

Even though he knew it was an act, her submissive posture called to all his innate dominance. His cock throbbed, and this time he didn’t attempt to force it down. Instead, he curved an arm around her slender waist and yanked her up against him, deliberately rubbing his erection against her soft body. Her eyes widened, and he waited for her to pull away.

“Are you sure, pet?” he growled.

“Yes, Master,” she repeated, and he caught the sweet tang of arousal deepening her already luscious scent. Fuck. His instincts urged him to carry her away from this wretched place and explore her interest in private, but he had made a commitment. He refused to think about the fact that this was the first time he had ever been tempted to break a contract.

“Follow me,” he ordered, “but stay close. Tug on the chain if someone attempts to bother you.”

She bit her lip and nodded, falling into place behind him, her fingers clenched in the fur of his cloak.

Two guards waited outside the entrance. Both of them were Bukharan—big, brown-furred warriors with impressive horns and deadly hooves.

“State your business,” one guard demanded, surveying Aidon rapidly, his eyes lingering on his expensive adornments.

“Just looking for a little entertainment. So far, Port Eyeja has been somewhat of a disappointment.” He flipped a credit to each of them. “I heard that things are livelier here.”

“Are you armed?”

“Just a little knife.” He flipped back the cloak to show the large ceremonial dagger holstered around his waist. It was not, of course, his only weapon, but it was large and gaudy enough to divert attention.

“No blaster?” the second guard asked suspiciously.

“Never saw the need for them myself. I prefer to take care of things up close and personal.” He bared his teeth and took a step forward. The second guard bristled, but the first one laughed and shoved his companion back.

“I think you’ll fit right in.” He flicked an appreciative glance at Hanna. “Is your slave armed?”

“Of course not.”

“Maybe I should examine her to make sure,” the second guard said, still giving Aidon a resentful glare.

“No one touches my property,” he growled.

The tension thickened between them, and this time the first guard didn’t seem inclined to intervene. Aidon’s hand dropped to the hilt of his knife, but before he could challenge the guard, Hanna stepped forward and threw back her cloak. Her slender body, barely covered with