Hanna and the Hitman - Honey Phillips Page 0,27
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