Shadowed Page 10

  “Hey,” he shouted. “Easy with the water, sweetheart. We don’t know if the reclamation unit’s been damaged or not. We won’t last a solar week out here if you use up all the available resources.”

  The water shut off, and he was certain she was probably standing in the next room fuming silently. Probably, she wouldn’t talk to him for the rest of the night—or day—or whatever time it was here. But then, to his surprise, she came back after all. She was carrying a bowl of steaming water and a white washing cloth she must have found among the ship’s linens.

  Reddix eyed her mistrustfully. “What are you planning to do with that?”

  “You said you wanted to be ugly—well, you’re making a pretty good start,” Nina said tartly. She sat the steaming bowl down on the floor and crouched beside him. “That gash on your forehead is going to leave a nasty scar, and it’ll probably get infected if I don’t wash it out.” She wrung out the cloth and held it in one hand while she reached for his face with the other. “Now just hold still—”

  “Don’t.” Reddix felt a surge of panic. He might be numb to her emotions now, but he was sure he would be able to feel them the minute she touched his bare skin. He didn’t want that—didn’t want the comforting numbness to go away, only to be replaced by the horrible crawling sensation of her feelings worming their way over his body. The very idea made him nauseous.

  “But—” Nina looked confused, but her hand still hovered in the air, right in front of his face.

  “Don’t fucking touch me,” he growled at her. “I mean it!”

  Nina drew back. “Okay, okay, I get it—you think I want to hurt you because you hurt me. An eye for an eye, right? Well, that’s probably what you deserve, but I’m not that kind of person. I’m into healing—not hurting. I want to go back to school and become a PA—a physician’s assistant. So you don’t have to worry that I’ll try to harm you.”

  “It’s not that.” Reddix’s voice sounded harsh, even in his own ears. “I remember what I saw in the dreams we shared—I know you’re a healer.”

  “Then you know I won’t hurt you.” She dipped the cloth in the steaming water again and wrung it out. “So if you’ll just hold still—”

  “No,” he snapped, evading her hand.

  She frowned. “Look, I worked my way through massage therapy school as an aide in a nursing home. I’ve seen some nasty injuries, and I can tell when a cut looks bad. I can promise you that’s going to get infected if I don’t clean it out. Is that what you want?”

  “No,” Reddix admitted grudgingly. “But why don’t you just let me loose and let me clean it out myself? I’ll swear not to hurt you.”

  “Fat chance, buddy.” Nina crossed her arms over her chest, apparently heedless of the dripping cloth. “You’re not going anywhere. So you have two options—let me clean the cut, or get a nasty infection and possibly die of it while we’re out here marooned on an alien planet. Your choice.”

  Reddix considered her for a long moment. It was true that the area above his left eyebrow ached and stung, and he could feel the tackiness of dried blood across his forehead and down his cheek. The last thing he needed was to be undermined by an infection—especially now when he would probably need all his strength to fix the ship—if it was even fixable.

  “Well?” Nina raised an eyebrow at him. “The water’s getting cold. Make up your mind.”

  “Fine,” he said at last, grudgingly. “But only if you can clean it without touching my skin.” Seeing her uncomprehending look, he continued. “Just use the cloth—don’t put your hand on me, don’t touch your bare skin to mine in any way. Got it?”

  Nina looked offended. “Are you some kind of germaphobe? You’re afraid I’ll contaminate you with my Earth germs or something?”

  “No,” Reddix said shortly. “With your feelings. Can you clean it without touching me or not?”

  “Sure, I guess.” Still frowning, she shrugged and dipped the cloth in the water a third time. “If that’s the way you want it.”

  “That’s the only way I want it,” Reddix growled. “Just don’t touch me, and I’ll be fine.”

  “All right, all right.” She still looked offended as she began to wipe the stinging cut carefully. “You didn’t seem to have any problem with bare skin contact when you grabbed me.”

  “That was different,” Reddix muttered, closing his eyes as she continued to dab at the wound. “An exception. I usually never touch anyone.”

  “What—never?” She sounded surprised. “Is that some kind of an OCD thing?”

  He frowned. “OCD? I don’t know that word.”

  “Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Sometimes people who have it feel the need to wash their hands over and over or—”

  “No, nothing like that.” Reddix shook his head. “It’s an RTS thing.”

  “RTS? What’s that?”

  “Reverse Touch Syndrome,” he said and was immediately irritated with himself for revealing another personal detail to her when he ought to be keeping her at an arm’s length.

  “Reverse Touch Syndrome? I’ve worked with a lot of clients that have different problems, but I’ve never heard of that. What is it? Like Fibromyalgia or something?”

  “It’s nothing—nothing that concerns you.” He jerked his head away from the dabbing cloth. “Are you almost done?”

  “Just need to clean off the blood on your face.” She dipped the cloth again and wrung it out. “You’re not very grateful, you know. In fact, you’re a grumpy bastard.”

  “Yeah, well, I—” he began, and then his stomach growled loudly.

  Nina looked amused. “Okay, that explains it—at least partially.”

  Reddix frowned, angry at his body for showing weakness.

  “Explains what?”

  “You’re hungry. Mehoo always says hunger turns a man into a bear.”

  “Thought I was already a bear,” he said. “What in the Seven Hells is a bear, anyway?”

  Nina frowned as she wiped his face, being careful not to touch his skin.

  “A big, shaggy, solitary animal that lives by itself in the forest. As long as you leave them alone, they’re harmless. But if you make one angry…” She shook her head and shivered.

  “What?” Reddix was interested despite himself. “Tell me—what’s so bad about a bear?”

  Nina sighed and put the cloth back in the water.

  “My dad had a friend once who liked to go hunting—Uncle Jerry we called him. Dad went with him on a trip to Alaska to do some photography. I was little at the time, only eight, but I still remember when my father came home he hugged me so hard it hurt…and he cried. My dad never cries, but that one time he did.”

  “Because…?” Reddix nodded for her to go on.

  “Basically because during the trip, he thought he was never going to see me again.”

  “What happened?”

  “Dad and Uncle Jerry were attacked by a Kodiak bear up there—a kind of really big grizzly. They can get over nine feet tall on their hind legs, and they’re massive.” She shivered again. “I heard my dad telling my mom about it later. He got up into a tree in time, but his friend wasn’t fast enough and neither one of them had their rifles. Dad saw the whole thing. I can still remember him saying, ‘It ripped his fucking head off, baby. I sat up there in that tree while it gnawed on Jerry like a dog with a chew toy, and I couldn’t do a Goddamn thing to stop it.’” Nina shook her head. “I was just a kid, and I really liked Uncle Jerry. I used to have these nightmares about what happened to him, and later I had dreams about a talking bear. Maybe that’s why Mehoo-Jimmy says the bear is my spirit animal.”

  She wiped her face with her free hand, and Reddix realized she was crying a little. Normally he hated to be around anyone having emotional trauma—sorrow and grief pierced him like knives and made his stomach feel like it was filled with sharp, pointy rocks. His first reaction when someone started crying was to get away. But sitting here with Nina, still unable to feel her emotions, he
was able to have emotions of his own other than just the need to make a quick escape. He felt…sympathy for her. Empathy, even.

  “It’s hard to lose someone you love violently,” he offered in a low voice. “One of my favorite uncles died in a duel when I was eleven cycles old. It was…difficult to say goodbye to him.”

  “Yeah, well…” Nina sniffed. “Sorry, it’s crazy to get all emotional about it now. I think it’s just all the stress I’ve been through today.”

  “You mean all the stress from being kidnapped and flown through a wormhole and crashed on an alien world?” Reddix said dryly.

  “Well…yeah.” She gave a short, surprised laugh. “You know, now that you’re not being all dark and mysterious and scary and grumpy, you’re actually pretty easy to talk to.”

  “Now that you’ve got me where you want me, you mean.” Reddix raised an eyebrow at her and rattled the restraints against the metal bar. “Isn’t that right?”

  “Yes.” Nina sounded completely unrepentant as she finished cleaning his face and dropped the cloth back into the bowl of water. “And that’s where you’re going to stay.” She rose, holding the bowl of water. “I’m going to dump this and then come back and make some supper—providing we have anything to make.”

  “The ship is fully stocked,” Reddix assured her. “I made certain of that before I stole it.”

  Her eyes widened, and then she nodded as though nothing he did would surprise her.

  “All right then. I’ll come back and make us some supper. Maybe with a full stomach, you’ll stop being such a bear.”

  “Maybe,” Reddix said noncommittally. “But I wouldn’t count on it, Nina. We have a saying on my home planet of Tarsia—a vishneer can’t change its colorations.”

  She nodded thoughtfully. “Considering I have no idea what a vishneer is, that still makes a lot of sense.”

  “It’s the Tarsian version of a bear, and it’s just as deadly as your Kodiak,” Reddix told her quietly. “Think about that, Nina. Think carefully before you decide I’m friendly and ‘easy to talk to.’ I took you from Earth for my own selfish purposes, and I have no intention of letting you go until I get what I need.”

  He didn’t know why he felt the need to warn her—maybe because she was getting too close, getting under his skin. But he couldn’t let her believe he was harmless—not when he still desperately needed what only her sacrifice could get him. No matter how lovely or compassionate she was, he still had every intention of taking her to the swamp witch to get his cure. It wouldn’t be honorable or right to let her think otherwise.

  Nina turned pale for a moment but then simply nodded.

  “I won’t forget,” she said and walked away, carrying the bowl of water carefully.

  Chapter Twelve

  Stop letting him get to you! Mehoo-Jimmy’s voice lectured as Nina poured the cloudy water down the bathroom sink and stared at herself in the weird digital mirror. He’s not a nice guy, eecho. He admitted it himself—he still wants to hurt you.

  Well, at least he wasn’t trying to pretend he was her friend to get her off her guard. Nina respected his honesty despite his blunt admission that he still intended to carry out his plans for her—whatever they were—if he could.

  It should put me off. I should hate him—fear him—want nothing to do with him. But the way he smelled, that warm, seductive scent that reminded her of all her dreams…and the way he looked at her when he’d said he liked a woman with a heart-shaped ass…

  Snap out of it, Nina! she scolded herself. Remember Ted Bundy. Remember that this guy wants to hurt you, and he will if you give him half a chance. Do not let him get under your skin. And no matter what he says, no matter how interesting or attractive he makes himself, do not under any circumstances uncuff him. No matter what!

  She nodded firmly at her reflection in the strange mirror. That was a promise—she wouldn’t let Reddix go even if he begged and pleaded. No matter how good he smelled or how hot he looked or how intriguing she found him, the big Kindred was going to stay right where he was—cuffed to the metal bar in the kitchen.

  Nina left the little bathroom filled with resolve…and saw Reddix trying to flex his shoulders and wincing in obvious pain. Immediately, she felt a stab of guilt. Her training as a massage therapist kicked in and she longed to go to work on his broad shoulders where she was sure the muscles must be knotted and aching from the time he’d spent in such an uncomfortable position.

  He’s a kidnapper, she reminded herself. And who knows what else. Maybe a murderer or a rapist… But she didn’t really believe that. Reddix had said he had no interest in forcing her, and she was sure he was telling the truth. He didn’t even want her to touch him, let alone do anything else.

  He still deserves everything he gets, Nina told herself firmly. She bustled up to the counter, making sure to keep some distance between herself and the big Kindred, and reached for the cabinets.

  But she couldn’t keep herself from looking down at him from the corner of her eye. He didn’t say a word, but he was still trying to loosen the muscles in his neck and arms, and the look of pain in his silver eyes hurt Nina. She had never been able to stand seeing anything or anyone in pain. She had too much compassion—too much empathy—to be able to stand idly by while there was suffering she could somehow alleviate. Even if the man who was suffering meant her harm.

  “Here,” she said, crouching beside him and reaching for his shoulders.

  “What are you going to do?” Reddix drew back, a wary look on his face.

  “Just going to loosen you up a little,” Nina said soothingly. “Don’t worry—I can manage without touching your skin.”

  Aside from his black flight trousers, he was wearing a long-sleeved shirt and a jacket with a hood, which must have been hell to wear in Florida when he had kidnapped her. Working by feel, Nina pushed her hands under the thick material and found the knotted muscles of his shoulders. Then she went to work.

  It was a big job because Reddix was bigger than anyone she’d ever massaged before—and she’d done a few of the Tampa Bay Bucks linemen and a professional wrestler or two in her time. She wondered how big he was standing up. It was hard to estimate given the short time she’d seen him before he grabbed her, but if she had to guess, she would have bet he was six foot seven or eight at least. In other words, huge.

  Being this close to him was awkward—his face was only inches from her own—but she did her best to ignore it and keep working. His warm masculine scent invaded her senses, distracting her until she had to close her eyes and force herself to concentrate on easing his tension. Just when she could feel him finally beginning to loosen up, he spoke in that deep, harsh voice of his—the only part of him that wasn’t perfect.

  “What are you feeling?”

  “What?” It was such a strange question that Nina’s eyes flew open. She realized their faces were even closer—almost close enough to kiss—but Reddix wasn’t pulling away from her. Instead, he was staring at her with a quizzical look in his silver eyes.

  “I said, what are you feeling right now?” he repeated. “I can’t tell from looking at you, and I’m still numb so…”

  “Numb?” Nina frowned. “Did I pinch a nerve?”

  “No, nothing like that.” He shook his head. “I just don’t know why you’re doing this for me. I want to know why.”

  “Because…” Nina sat back on her heels. “You’re in pain.”

  “Yes.” He nodded, frowning. “But why should you care? I kidnapped you. Took you from your home.”

  Nina shrugged uneasily. “I don’t know. I can’t stand to see someone in pain—not if I can help.”

  “Of course.” He laughed harshly. “I’m like an animal in a cage—a bear you’re too compassionate to watch suffer.”

  “Something like that, I guess,” Nina said uneasily. “Speaking of which…” She gave his shoulders one last squeeze. “Feeling better now?”

  Reddix flexed his arms and shoulders and nodded g
rudgingly.

  “I am. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” She rose a little unsteadily and reached for the cabinets again. “Okay, let’s see what we’re having for dinner. Looks like…” She frowned as she regarded the contents of the cabinets. “Sugar?”

  “What is sugar?” Reddix asked, craning his neck to see what she was looking at. “Some kind of Earth food?”

  “More like a seasoning or a condiment,” Nina said. “You put it in your drink to sweeten it up.” She spoke distractedly, staring at the contents of the cabinet. Stacks and stacks of little white cubes, all individually wrapped with tiny strange letters printed across their little wrappers, were stacked in the first cabinet she had opened. And the second, and the third. And then she was out of cabinets. “I just don’t understand why there are so many of them,” she muttered.

  “So many of what?” Reddix asked, sounding impatient.

  “Sugar cubes. This doesn’t make sense,” Nina said. She looked down at Reddix. “Hope you’re not diabetic.”

  “Let me see one.”

  Nina picked several of the cubes off the shelf and held them out to him, at eye-level.

  Reddix scanned the miniscule writing on the cubes, which appeared to be in some foreign language. Then he laughed—a much nicer sound than the harsh bark he’d given earlier when he accused her of seeing him as a caged bear. This was a deep rumbling sound that held genuine amusement—Nina felt it in her bones.

  “Those cubes aren’t sugar or any other kind of Earth food, sweetheart,” he said. “They’re just dehydrated rations—that’s how Kindred store food for long trips.”

  “Oh.” Nina examined the cubes more closely herself. “They look exactly like sugar cubes. That’s weird.” She juggled the cubes in her hand. “So what…is one of them carrots and one peas and one beef stew or what?”

  Reddix shook his shaggy head. “I don’t know what any of those foods are, but the cubes are not just one particular component of the meal. Each single cube is an entire meal in and of itself.”

  “Really?” Nina was even more intrigued. “And can you tell what kind of meal is in each?”