Shadowed

  An idea about that began to surface, a way to gain her trust without lying to her…But no, that was crazy. He couldn’t risk—

  “Well, it’s late. I guess…guess I’ll turn in.” Nina’s soft voice broke into his tumultuous thoughts.

  He sighed. “Yeah, you do that sweetheart. Go ahead—there’s a sleeping compartment in the back of the ship. You should be comfortable there.”

  “But…well…” She hesitated, biting her lip. “Is there anything I can do to, uh, make you more comfortable? I mean, do you want a pillow…”

  Reddix barked a laugh. “There you go again—being nice to me when I’m a kidnapping son-of-a-bitch. You ought to stop, Nina. I’m nothing but trouble for you—nothing but pain.”

  She lifted her chin, and a defiant look came into her lovely blue and gold-flecked eyes. “I know that. But I told you—I can’t stand to see anyone hurting. It…bothers me.”

  “Get over it,” Reddix said harshly. The fact that she was still concerned with his comfort while he was plotting to take her to the swamp witch gave him a sharp stab of guilt he couldn’t repress no matter how hard he tried. “Go to bed. Get some sleep.”

  “Fine.” She crossed her arms over her breasts and frowned. “I guess I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Fine. Whatever.” He looked away, forcing himself to keep his eyes off her ass this time as she went to the back of the ship. Why did he feel the need to provoke her? To push her buttons? To warn her that he would cause her nothing but pain?

  She’s sweet and kind and compassionate and brave. She deserves better than this, he thought, sinking his chin to his chest and heaving a sigh. A hell of a lot better. I really am a bastard.

  It wasn’t the first time he’d fallen asleep with thoughts of self-hatred running through his head, but when his guilty conscience finally let him sleep, he had the strangest dream…

  * * * * *

  “Careful with that crate! That’s live cargo, y’know!” A guard with a silver pain prod in one of his three sets of hands nodded warily at the thick, steel-wood slats of the massive cage. It was being lifted by hydro-blasts from the ship’s cargo hold, and the guard holding the controls wasn’t doing a very good job.

  “Yeah, yeah—I know what it is,” the second guard growled, twisting the hover-knob to bring the cage higher and clear the ship’s hull. “Don’t worry—I know her worshipfulness, Lady Pope’nose wants him intact.”

  “You don’t get it,” the first guard protested. “It’s the crate itself I’m worried about—you bash it around too much it’ll bust open. And then we’ll have to deal with the contents, y’know?”

  “So what? It’s just another prisoner from the inner system,” the second one scoffed. “More meat for the Yonnie Six vag-mills.” He scratched his ear tufts with one of his six arms. “Sure am glad these bitches don’t find our kind attractive. I’d rather be dead than let some female subjugate me.”

  “That’s exactly how these prisoners we bring them feel,” the first guard said grimly. “And you will be dead if he gets out. You know how many opponents this son-of-a-bitch put in the ground? One hundred and thirty-seven. More kills than any other slave on the Blood Circuit.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah. They say he was unstoppable. And what’s more, he’s got a few more kills that weren’t sanctioned if you know what I mean. This bastard’s a class eight felon.”

  “Class eight? Never seen a class eight before. The worse I ever transported was a six.” The second guard looked at the wooden cage he was guiding with more respect

  “I did a seven once. Eight’s almost unheard of. That’s also why he’s been drugged to the gills with Ionian cluster juice.” The first guard shook his head. “I’ll be damned glad to drop this one off—just wish we had the Hurkon collar we were promised to deal with him.”

  “I wondered about that,” the second one said. “Whatever happened to it? Thought we weren’t going to transport him without it.”

  The first guard shrugged one of his three sets of shoulders. “Don’t know. Held up somewhere outside the system. Boss said go ahead with the transport anyway. I think Pope’nose must have paid him a shitload of credit to make the deal go through. He was supposed to go to the lockdown, but she wanted him as her personal slave.”

  “Good thing the bastard is knocked out. Probably won’t be too happy when he wakes up and realizes he’s been put out to stud with a bitch like Pope’nose. He—” As the second guard spoke, something moved inside the cage. Spooked by the shifting contents and the flash of bright and angry eyes he saw between the slats, the guard jerked, dropping the hydro-blast controls. The cage immediately began to shift on its bed of closely controlled mist.

  “Hey, watch it!” the first guard shouted, but the cage had already rammed a corner into the side of the cargo hold. The second guard grabbed for the controls with all six hands, fumbled and dropped them, ramming the cage again. The steel-wood slats gave an audible crack as some of them began to splinter and buckle. A massive hand appeared between them, groping for freedom.

  “Goddess of Mercy…” The second guard gasped. “Your blaster—get it ready!”

  “I’ve got it.” The first guard had his weapon trained on the ever-widening hole in the crate. “I’ll put him down for good if he tries anythi—”

  His words were interrupted by a low, angry roar from the crate. Suddenly, the steel-wood slats burst apart as though they were no stronger than sugar sticks one might give to a youngling.

  The prisoner was free.

  “Shoot it!” the second guard screamed. “Shoot it—shoot it!”

  His only answer was a gurgle. Turning his head, he saw a thick stake of steel-wood protruding from the other guard’s neck. Green blood poured from the severed vessels, coating all six hands and the blaster as the first guard sank helplessly to his four knees.

  “The collar,” the second guard muttered wildly, scrambling to pull the blaster from the other guard’s clenched fist. “Never should have agreed to transport this bastard without the Hurkon collar…”

  His muttering was cut off abruptly when a huge hand wrapped around his throat. The last thing he saw were two blazing white-blue eyes glaring into his. Slowly the eyes turned from the palest blue to blood red. And then they began to glow.

  Then, nothing…

  * * * * *

  “What happened to the lights?”

  Reddix blinked, trying to clear his head of the strange dream. What the hell had it been about? Some kind of prisoner being transported but they needed the Hurkon collar and didn’t have it…

  “I said the lights are out—why?” Nina’s voice sounded high and frightened in the dark ship.

  Reddix blinked again and realized it didn’t make a difference whether his eyes were open or closed—everything was still pitch black. He sat up with a groan. His arms and hands felt nearly dead from being cuffed over his head for hours.

  “Reddix?” she said again, and he heard her coming toward him in the darkness.

  “Don’t touch me,” he said sharply. “Stay right where you are—auxiliary power must have cut down to save energy.” At least he hoped that was what it was. If the ship’s generator was dying they were going to be in bad shape very shortly.

  “I was just getting to sleep, and then the lights died.” From the sound of Nina’s voice she was pretty close by—standing right beside him. “And then I thought I heard noises,” she continued. “From outside. Do…do you think there are other, uh, people besides us here on this world?”

  Reddix shrugged. “Could be. Last thing I saw on the console indicated a breathable atmosphere and Earth-normal gravity.”

  “Oh.” Nina sounded more upset than ever. “Do you think…do you think they could get in?”

  “No,” Reddix said shortly. “The ship’s hull is pretty solid, and I don’t think we sustained a breach during the crash.” He shifted around. “You got nothing to worry about sweetheart—although I could protect you
better if something happened if my hands were free.”

  “I don’t think so.” Nina’s voice became firmer. “I’m not going to let you use this situation to scare me into letting you go. For all I know you dimmed the lights on purpose somehow yourself. Maybe they’re voice activated or only respond to you, like the beacon.”

  Reddix sighed. “That’s a nice little paranoia you’ve got going there. Look—forget about it. Just go back to be, and we’ll see what we can do in the morning.”

  “Okay,” she said, but he could tell that she hadn’t moved a bit. She was still standing there right beside him in the dark. He could smell her warm, feminine scent and hear her soft breathing.

  “Nina?” he said at last. “You all right?”

  “I can’t sleep in there, okay?” she burst out. “It’s too big and dark and quiet, and I can hear every single noise outside the ship. And it’s cold—really cold. Even with all the blankets on I’m freezing.”

  “Yeah, because without auxiliary power the ship doesn’t have much in the way of climate control. It’s on straight life-support now which means we get breathable air and not much else.”

  “Oh,” she said again in a small voice. She still wasn’t budging, and without being able to feel her emotions, Reddix couldn’t figure out what she wanted. Then something occurred to him.

  “You want to stay out here with me?” he asked.

  “Yes!” She sounded infinitely relieved. “And I promise I won’t touch you—your skin, anyway. But I thought if I could sit beside you and cover both of us with a blanket it would be a lot warmer.”

  Reddix wasn’t sure how to feel about this. On one hand, he knew he ought to keep her at an arm’s length—he was already way more involved with her than he ought to be. On the other, he wanted nothing more in the universe than to have her pressed close against him. He opened his mouth to send her away and heard himself say,

  “Sure. Come on,”

  “Oh, good.” There were some slow, careful scuffling noises, and then Nina was beside him on the floor. She threw a warm blanket over both of them and then cuddled against his side. “Is this all right?” she asked softly. “I’m not touching you, am I?”

  “No,” Reddix said and it was true—she wasn’t touching his skin. But he could still feel the warmth of her soft, curvy body pressed against his chest. He got instantly hard, his shaft straining insistently against his flight trousers. He tried to will away his erection, but his body wasn’t listening—not that Reddix could blame it. Having her so close to him seemed to short-circuit his brain somehow.

  Nina seemed oblivious to the problem she was causing. She leaned her head against his shoulder close enough that he could dip his face down and smell her hair if he wanted to. He knew he shouldn’t—that he should resist the temptation—but he couldn’t help himself. He bent his head and sniffed, inhaling deeply, breathing her in. She smelled like flowers and some other warm, sweet scent he couldn’t identify.

  Nina shifted against him. “Um…are you smelling me?”

  “Just your hair.” His voice sounded hoarse in his own ears. “It has a scent I’ve never smelled before. I thought it might be an Earth plant or—”

  “It’s vanilla—Tahitian vanilla, my favorite shampoo.” She shifted again and pressed her face to his chest. “You smell good too. Really good. It…reminds me of all those dreams I had of you. I don’t know why, but it does.”

  “I know why,” Reddix muttered. It was hard to believe, but it must be his mating scent. Though he had technically been dream sharing with Nina, he had never imagined his body would continue down that road, reacting to her as though she was his chosen mate. It ought to be impossible—his biology was all screwed up. He had an inverted Touch Sense—he could never bond a female to him even if he could stand to touch her skin-to-skin. Why was his body reacting this way to Nina, and how could he make it stop?

  Well, you could ask her to get the fuck away from you, a sarcastic little voice in his head informed him. Yes, that would be a good start…but somehow he couldn’t make himself do it. This was the closest he had been to any female in over ten years—the closest he had wanted to be to any female. Nina was soft and warm, and she smelled amazing. Despite his uncomfortable position with his wrists bound above his head and the way his shaft was almost painfully hard from her proximity, it was wonderful. Reddix couldn’t bear to end it.

  “Why?” she asked. “Why does your scent remind me of the dreams? And why were the dreams so…disturbing?”

  “Why do you think they were disturbing?” he murmured, answering her question with a question. “You said they were nightmares. Was that just because you were afraid of me? Or that you thought I was hurting, in pain?”

  “Well…” She shifted against him again. “Not exactly. They were also…”

  “Yes?” he prompted, intrigued now.

  “They were…arousing.” Her voice was so low he wouldn’t have heard it if she hadn’t been right up against him. “I mean, after I woke up from those dreams I was so…”

  “Wet?” he finished for her in a low growl. His shaft throbbed painfully inside his trousers. Gods, she was killing him here.

  “Yes,” Nina whispered. She shifted again and sat up. “I shouldn’t be doing this. Shouldn’t be talking like this with you,” she said, and he wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince herself or him.

  “Why not?” he asked, though he was thinking the exact same thing.

  “Because you kidnapped me—I can’t trust you. You’re my captor for God’s sake…”

  “I was,” Reddix said mildly. “But it looks like you’re the captor now, sweetheart.”

  “Still,” she insisted. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me—I should hate you…fear you. Instead, it’s like I’ve got the worst case of Stockholm syndrome ever.”

  “Stockholm syndrome?” He frowned, wishing he could see her face.

  “It’s where the person who’s been kidnapped begins to identify with their kidnapper,” she explained. “Begins to feel for them, to…”

  “To care for them?” Reddix asked softly.

  She sighed. “Maybe I should go sleep in the other room after all.”

  “If you want to.” He tried to make his voice noncommittal, as though he didn’t care what she did. But he couldn’t help wanting her to stay. To stay and lay her head on his shoulder again so he could smell her warm scent and feel her softness against him. Goddess, what was wrong with him? He shouldn’t let himself feel this way. Nina had talked about Stockholm syndrome—what was the opposite case? Where the kidnapper started feeling for the person he’d kidnapped?

  “You really don’t care if I go?” Her voice was small and hurt in the darkness. When Reddix didn’t answer she sighed. “I’m an idiot. I’ll go.” She started to get up.

  “Don’t,” he said, unable to help himself. “I mean…it’s warmer with you here. Don’t go.”

  She seemed to hesitate—in the darkness he could sense her indecision.

  “I’ll stay,” she said at last. “If you’ll talk to me.”

  “We ought to be sleeping,” he objected.

  “I can’t sleep. I want to talk. I want you to tell me why you took me.”

  “I won’t do that. Forget it—go sleep in the other room,” he growled.

  “Fine.” She sighed, ignoring his order to leave. “But at least tell me about yourself. Tell me about your problem…your RTS. Why does it keep you from touching people?”

  “That’s none of your Goddess damned business,” he snarled, feeling suddenly put on the defensive.

  “But I’m asking anyway.” In the darkness, her voice was calm and steady…and completely relentless. “Come on, Reddix—you owe me some answers.”

  Reddix felt himself breaking. She was right, and he couldn’t deny it—or her—any longer. If he was going to keep her and if he was ever going to win her trust, he had to give—at least a little.

  He sighed. “Damn it…all right. All ri
ght, I’ll tell you…some.”

  “Good. That’s better than nothing.” She leaned against him again, snuggling close so that her head was right under his chin. “Start talking.”

  Reddix sighed. He didn’t want to talk about his RTS but not for the usual reasons—the humiliation of admitting what he was, and even worse, what he was lacking. No, the reason he didn’t want to talk about it was because he had a superstitious fear that the minute he explained his condition to Nina the blessed numbness that seemed to have enveloped him would end.

  He knew it was ridiculous, but he was beginning to like this Earth girl he’d kidnapped—more than like her if he was honest with himself. In the short time he’d spent with her he’d had the longest, most complex conversations he’d had in a decade. He didn’t want that to end. Didn’t want to start trying to shield himself from her feelings. Didn’t want to start hating her for something she couldn’t help—the simple act of having emotions.

  Still, she was listening expectantly, and he knew he had to go on. She was right—he owed her at least a partial explanation of why he had taken her, even if he couldn’t tell her what he had planned for her. The swamp witch…Goddess, could he really hand Nina over to that evil bitch? Reddix tried to push the idea out of his mind. Instead, he concentrated on telling her just enough…without telling too much.

  “RTS…Reverse Touch Syndrome…only affects males of the Touch Kindred and usually only those with the Star Clan lineage,” he began. “I had no idea I had it until about ten years ago…”

  He went through the whole explanation—skimming some over the more painful parts—but enough to give her a general idea of why he was the way he was. Nina listened quietly, asking the occasional question, and he wondered again what she was thinking—what she was feeling. It was still strange to have to wonder that about anyone. Though he didn’t miss being prodded and poked by someone else’s emotions, Reddix found that in Nina’s case at least, he desperately wanted to know.