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.”