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 right, 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.
“Wow,” she said at last when he finished. “So you feel everything everyone else feels but in a physical way, not just inside?”
“Normally. I’m numb right now—don’t know why. But I can’t ‘feel’ you,” Reddix admitted. And hope I never do, he added silently. It was foolish to voice that hope aloud—tempting fate—so he kept it to himself.
“I guess that’s a good thing. But…what if I was feeling happy? Aren’t positive emotions—?”
“It’s all bad—fucking invasive and miserable,” he said. “And even if it wasn’t—would you want to wear somebody else’s happiness all day like a hot, itchy coat you couldn’t take off?”
“I guess not,” Nina said thoughtfully. “And so…that’s why you didn’t want me to touch you?”
“It’s not that I don’t want you to,” he said gruffly. “It’s that I can’t stand it. If the numbness wears off…when it wears off, touching makes it worse. So much fucking worse.”
“But…not to be touched, even casually, for ten years. To hide yourself away, avoiding everyone, even the people you love because you can’t stand to be around them. That’s so…”
“Sad? Pathetic?” he asked harshly.
“Lonely.” Nina cuddled closer to him, nestling against his side. “So terribly lonely. Oh, Reddix…”