Page 11 of His Little Hessonite

Papi slides his hands to my back. “More years, Little one. We live longer. Dankin has been a doctor for over a hundred years.”

I gasp. “You have to be kidding. You look younger than me.” So does Kalbrac.

Dankin chuckles. “I assure you I am not. I’m one hundred and twenty-nine.”

My breath hitches. I jerk my attention to Papi. “How old are you?”

“One hundred and twenty-six.”

“My God…” I stare at him. “I look ten years older than you. I assumed you were in your mid-twenties.”

“I saw on your identification that you’re thirty-five. I also know today is your birthday. Happy birthday.” He smiles.

I ignore his birthday wishes and address the more important thing. “So, in fifty years when I’m old and dying, you’ll still look like you’re in your mid-twenties?” That thought makes me uneasy.

He shakes his head. “No, Baby girl. You will age much slower, too, once we get home. You will live centuries with me.”

I stop breathing. “Centuries?” That’s impossible to believe.

“Yes, Little one. We don’t know exactly how long any of us will live, but our scientists predict centuries.”

“Why don’t you know?”

“There was a disturbance in our airfield a century ago. Afterward, everything changed. Our females and elderly aged and died. Our young males survived, seemingly suspended in time. There are no Eleadian females in existence. That’s why we come to Earth to find a mate.”

My head is spinning. It’s a lot to take in.

Dankin hands Papi a blanket.

Papi wraps it around me and lifts me into his arms as though I weigh nothing. I suppose to him I’m nothing but a feather.

“So this pituitary tumor. It’s not life threatening?” I ask Dankin.

He shakes his head. “Not immediately. It’s slow growing. It’s simply making you tired. It’s causing your body to produce hormones that caused some weight gain and lactation. It’s not an immediate threat to your life.”

“But you’ll remove it.”

“Yes.”

“When will you operate?” Papi asks Dankin.

“I’ll take a bit of time to study the tumor in the scan and prepare for the surgery. Why don’t you take Clara to the room across the hall. Bathe her. Feed her. Keep her calm. Prepare her so she’ll know what to expect in her future. It won’t hurt if she has a nap. When she wakes up, I’ll do the surgery. I’ll want to monitor her for a few days before you put her into stasis for transport.”

“Okay.” Papi pulls me closer and kisses the top of my head. “Thank you.”

I don’t have time to ask more questions because Papi carries me from the room and across the hall. He opens another door and steps into a strange room. It looks like…a nursery. But all the furniture is huge.

Papi carries me to a giant crib, lowers me to the mattress, and lifts the side.

I immediately push to sitting, glancing around. My heartrate increases. I’m sort of trapped in what amounts to a cage with four slatted sides. It’s definitely a giant crib.

“It’s okay to sit up, Little one, but stay on your bottom.”

I stare at him as he removes his suit jacket.

“I want to change into more comfortable clothes, Baby girl. Then I’ll give you a bath and feed you.”

“I had a shower before I came to the club. I don’t need a bath,” I argue as I pull the blanket around me. “Why did you put me in this prison?”