Hanna and the Hitman - Honey Phillips Page 0,33

remnants of his seed. “I don’t have to worry about getting pregnant.”

His hand froze, his whole body seized with longing at the idea of her ripe with his child. The longing was immediately replaced by sorrow. It would never happen. He could never allow it to happen.

“That is not necessarily a barrier,” he said as calmly as possible. Her eyes went wide, and a look he couldn’t read flashed across her face. “But in this case, you don’t have to worry. I cannot father children.”

“Why not? Did something happen to you?”

“After I left Pardor, I had a procedure to prevent it as soon as I had enough money to cover it.”

“You mean you decided you didn’t want to have kids? Ever?”

To subject another to the pain of his childhood? The fleeting image of Hanna pregnant with his child danced across his vision again, but he shook his head.

“No,” he said firmly and pretended he didn’t see the questions in her eyes as he stood.

“Come. A shower will help to ease you.” He lifted her into his arms, glad that his strength had returned to the point where her slight weight didn’t trouble him. She didn’t protest but relaxed against him with a contented sigh. He knew that he would pay for what he had done, but for now he allowed himself to enjoy the feel of her sweet body in his arms and the pleasure of caring for his mate.

Chapter Thirteen

By the time Pardor came into sight on the ship’s viewport, Hanna could have sobbed with relief. The trip had grown increasingly stressful as Aidon’s condition deteriorated.

For a full day after they had made love, he had seemed to be his normal self. Well, as normal as a seven-foot-tall, shape-shifting alien could be. They had spent a lot of time just talking, and he had, reluctantly, told her more about Pardor. Despite his initial hesitation, the way he described the planet was not that of a male who hated the place.

He had been telling her about some of the more terrifying wildlife that occupied one of the great rivers of his world, but he sounded knowledgeable and admiring rather than concerned. He had been looking off into the distance as he described a vine-like plant that concealed most of its body beneath the water when he looked down to find her watching him.

“What is it?”

“You sound like you’re very at home on the planet.”

He shifted beneath her. She was perched in his lap—his previous warnings to stay away from him apparently forgotten—and she could see that he looked uncomfortable with her observation.

“It’s not my home.” Then he sighed. “And yet it is. I grew up there.”

“When did you leave?”

“As soon as I could change my form.”

“How old were you?”

“Too old.” At her inquiring look, he sighed again. “Pardorians naturally begin to change form in minor ways even as children. I did not. It was…difficult. Because we are forbidden from revealing our true forms, I didn’t even have the option of leaving. As soon as my abilities appeared, I took a job on the next freighter out of there.”

“Didn’t your parents object?”

“They were both gone by then.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. I barely knew them. My mother…died when I was a child, and my father didn’t last long after that.”

“But who raised you? Who took care of you?”

“My grandfather. It was a…difficult relationship.”

“I understand. My aunt raised me—my great-aunt actually. She was very kind to me, but she had an old-fashioned way of looking at the world, and I always felt a little out of place with the other kids.” She fingered the hem of his shirt and gave him a rueful smile. “I’m sure she would have been shocked at my unladylike behavior recently.”

“The age difference was not the problem with my grandfather. I was simply a disappointment to him.”

“Because you couldn’t shift?”

“Among other things. I wasn’t big enough or fast enough or ruthless enough for him. I think I failed most of his tests.”

“No wonder you wanted to leave.” She gave him a quick, sympathetic hug. “What did you do then?”

“Hired on as a fighter. I may not have been good enough for my grandfather, but I won most of my matches. I stayed away for almost two years before the sickness hit me and I had to return.”

“What did your grandfather say when you came back?”

“Nothing,” he said shortly. “I didn’t talk to him. After that, I stayed in the city when I had to return until I