“Forgive me,” she said quietly. “But I thought…if there’s any way I can help…” She didn’t finish with words. Instead, she put one hand tentatively on the back of his neck.
The moment her cool, soft fingertips brushed his skin, Reddix had instant relief. The stabbing grief, the acid tears, the dark despair that had been creeping into his lungs with every breath suddenly vanished. He still felt sorrow but only his own—he sympathized with his little sister, but the emotional storm around her no longer felt like a personal, physical attack.
He sighed in relief and looked at Nina gratefully.
“Thank you,” he said hoarsely. “If you could just stand there…”
“Of course,” she murmured. “Go ahead—I won’t let go of you.”
Reddix turned back to his little sister.
“It’s all right,” he told Minda quietly. “This is Nina—she shuts off the RTS when she touches me. So now, come on …let me hold you.”
“Oh, Reddix…” Minda held up her arms, no longer refusing his comfort.
Reddix enfolded her gently, holding her just as he had when they were younger and she hurt herself and came crying to him because their parents were too busy to be bothered. He held her close and let her sob against his chest, cherishing this moment even though it hurt—loving Minda with all his heart and praying to the Goddess that she would live and be all right. That she would recover from this loss and not leave him.
And through it all, he felt Nina’s soft, gentle fingers on his neck. She stood there quietly, not speaking, guarding him, standing between him and the disease that had eaten his life and made such simple, physical contact impossible for so many years.
He was beyond grateful. Maybe she does care, whispered a little voice in his brain. Maybe she feels for you the way you feel for her.
Maybe.
* * * * *
Nina stood there quietly, making sure to keep skin-to-skin contact with Reddix while he held his sister and trying not to intrude on their reunion. Still, she couldn’t help watching the gentle way he held Minda or hearing the soothing, comforting words he whispered to her as he stroked her hair.
And as she watched, she felt her heart melting.
She’d been trying so hard to keep herself from falling for the big Kindred completely, reminding herself of how he’d kidnapped her, intending to offer her as a sacrifice to the witch. She’d told herself to remember every harsh word he’d ever said, every time he warned her away and told her to leave him alone because he would bring her nothing but pain.
But somehow, watching him hold his frail little sister in his arms and beg her to live, Nina couldn’t remember any of that. All she saw was a man filled with love and compassion—a man who only needed a little help to let those qualities out.
I could give him that help. I am giving him that help, she couldn’t help thinking. I could be there for him always. We could go somewhere deserted without many people. We could make a life together…
It was just a silly pipe dream, and she knew it. But still, she couldn’t get it out of her head.
At last Reddix murmured something in his sister’s ear, and she whispered, “All right.” When he sat up on the edge of the bed, still holding her hand, her face looked sad but serene. It was as though she had found a measure of peace in his arms she couldn’t find anywhere else.
“It’ll be all right,” Reddix said hoarsely, and Nina wasn’t sure if he was talking to his little sister or himself. “Everything is going to be all right. You’ll make it through this, Minda—the same way you helped me through when I was first diagnosed.”
“The doctor did say I could…could try again eventually,” she whispered. “But Reddix, I wanted this one so much.”
“I know,” he murmured, squeezing her hand.
“Not just for me, though,” Minda continued earnestly. “I wanted him for you, big brother.”
“For me?” Reddix looked confused. “Why?”
“I thought maybe you could name him your heir—you know, so you wouldn’t have to become OverChief after all.”
“The lineage wouldn’t be strong enough,” Reddix said gently, stroking her fingers with his thumb. “I know you mean well, little sister, but the clans won’t accept a ruler with such weak ties to the blood.”
“I suppose you’re right. Which is exactly the reason our mother and father didn’t want me to marry Sterx in the first place.” She sighed. “That’s why they’re not here now, you know. Sterx wanted to call them, but I wouldn’t let him. They barely speak to me anymore, and I didn’t…didn’t want them here after what happened. I didn’t want anyone but you, Reddix.”
He smiled. “I’m here, aren’t I? Forget about our parents and have the life you want. Someone in this family should, after all.”
“Poor Reddix.” Minda squeezed his hand sympathetically. “You really are dreading stepping up to become the OverChief, aren’t you?”
“He won’t have to step up after all. I’m back.” Saber stepped in the doorway. “Is it all right to come in?”
Minda smiled at him wanly. “Saber—of course you can come in. It was good of you to bring back my brother when I called for him.”
“Of course. And you know I think of you as a little sister, too.”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “Speaking of little sisters, is Lissa here?”
“I am.” Lissa came into the room too, which was beginning to seem a bit crowded. “Saber and I are together now, Minda. I hope you understand.”
Minda nodded. “I do, but I’m afraid most people won’t. I’m glad for your happiness, but the situation is very hard on Reddix. He has no wish to rule, even if he didn’t have RTS. And I don’t see how the people will accept a male as OverChief who is married to his own sister.”
“Um, what?” Nina asked before she thought. Up until now she’d been trying to blend into the background and just be unobtrusive, but this was too weird to be ignored.
Lissa shot Reddix a look. “She doesn’t know?”
“It didn’t exactly come up,” he growled. “We talked more about our pasts—I didn’t want to think about the future.”
“What future?” Nina asked. “What do you mean? I’m sorry, but I’m completely lost here.”
“The future where I have to agree to become the ruling OverChief of all the Touch Kindred clans because the rightful ruler, Saber, has decided to marry his own sister,” Reddix said.
“In our defense, there isn’t any real blood tie between Saber and myself,” Lissa said quickly. “We just come from the same clan. Here on Tarsia that’s considered, um, incest.”
“Incest?” Nina was still shocked.
“I’m afraid so,” Minda said weakly. “The thought of Lissa and Saber getting joined is as repulsive to our people as if Reddix and I had decided to become mates.”
Reddix made a face. “Ugh. I love you, little sister but…”
“Right.” She gave him a ghost of a smile. “The feeling’s mutual.”
“The laws here on Tarsia concerning who one is allowed to join with are very strict,” Lissa said quietly. “And strictly enforced. They even inject infants with a kinship compound at birth to make members of the same clan repugnant to each other.”
“Wow, that’s…harsh.” Nina shook her head and looked at Reddix. “So after Saber, you’re next in line for the throne? You never said you were royalty.”
“I’m not,” he growled. “I mean, it’s not like that. I just have the right blood to rule. And if the line of succession is broken this whole damn planet will erupt into civil war.”
“There’s not going to be any war,” Saber said firmly. “I’ve already spoken to my father. He’s convening a public meeting of the clan leaders tomorrow evening. Lissa and I will announce our relationship to them and any of the clansmen and women who care to come. At that time, I will tell everyone that I fully intend to take my father’s place when he steps down.”
“You’d better have an exit str
ategy planned then,” Reddix said grimly. “And a ship waiting to take you far, far away.”
“We’ll be fine,” Lissa said, but Nina noticed that her voice quivered. “Everything will be all right—you’ll see.”
“I hope you’re right.” Reddix sighed doubtfully. “I hope to the Goddess you’re right.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
“I just want to thank you for everything you did for me today.” Reddix stood in the doorway of his second guestroom awkwardly. Saber and Lissa were in the first guestroom since Saber’s parents hated their new daughter-in-law for “perverting” their son, but the two of them had already gone to bed.
Reddix was ready for bed himself—he’d already changed into a pair of dark blue sleep trousers and taken off his shirt. He and Nina had the rest of the house to themselves, and he wished he could ask her to share his bed instead of putting her across the house from him. But he had no legitimate reason to ask her to sleep with him—not now that the Hurkon collar had been removed. It felt wrong to sleep without her in his arms, but what else could he do? So he lingered in the doorway, talking, unwilling to say goodnight and go back to his own lonely bedchamber by himself.
“You don’t have to thank me.” Nina seemed to be feeling awkward and uncertain as well. She had taken a bath and changed too, from her fur dress into a silky gown Lissa had loaned her. It was deep blue which emphasized her eyes, and the thin material seemed to cling to every one of her generous curves. In fact, Reddix could have sworn he could see the tight peaks of her nipples just under the silky blue top of the gown…Realizing he was ogling her like a horny adolescent, he snapped his eyes back up to her face guiltily.
“Yes, I do have to thank you,” he protested. “The force of Minda’s grief was so strong…nearly overwhelming. I was close to passing out. If it hadn’t been for you being there, touching me…” He cleared his throat and looked down. “I haven’t hugged her like that in years,” he said gruffly. “Haven’t been able to stand it though the Goddess knows I wanted to. She’s so precious to me. Being able to comfort her today meant a lot.”
“I’m glad I could help,” Nina said softly. “More than I can say. Do you think she’ll be all right?”
Reddix nodded. “Minda’s a fighter,” he said grimly. “Goddess knows she fought for me, even when I didn’t want to fight for myself. I know how awful a loss like this must be for her, but I hope in time she’ll try again.”
“She’s going to make a wonderful mother someday,” Nina said softly. “It sounds like she got plenty of practice taking care of you when the two of you were growing up.”
“We took care of each other,” Reddix admitted. “Even before my RTS manifested, our parents were always off doing the political thing. The OverChief and his second rule by blood but they still have to keep the goodwill of the people by going out and visiting all over Tarsia.” He made a face. “It’s one reason I don’t want the fucking job.”
“Maybe you won’t have to take it,” she suggested.
“Maybe.” Reddix wasn’t very hopeful on that score. “I guess we’ll see after tomorrow night’s gathering.”
“Do you have to attend it?” Nina asked.
He nodded ruefully. “As second in the line of succession I’m afraid there’s no way to get out of it.”
She frowned. “But if there’s a big crowd of people…all those emotions…”
“It won’t be fun, but I can handle it.” Privately, he wasn’t sure he could, but he didn’t want to admit that to Nina. And besides, there were other things he had to worry about besides the crowd he would face tomorrow night. For instance, the lthss on his wrist had suddenly grown again since their landing on Tarsia. It was as though the small, evil creature knew he was home and was reminding him of his obligation to Xandra. Soon he would have to go and offer his blood to pay the bargain he had made. No doubt the witch would be disappointed to learn he hadn’t brought her the sacrifice of innocent blood she had demanded, but there was no way in hell he was letting Nina anywhere near that evil bitch’s hut.
“You won’t have to,” Nina said, pulling him out of his silent contemplation.
“Have to what?” Reddix asked, realizing he had missed something.
“I said, you won’t have to handle it alone,” Nina said softly. “I’ll be there with you the whole time. I’ll help you.”
“No.” Reddix frowned. “No, you can’t—it’ll be way too dangerous. Once Saber makes his announcement the crowd is going to get ugly—they’ll be calling for blood.”
“Let them—I’m not afraid.” Nina lifted her chin. “I know Lissa is going to be there.”
“That’s between her and Saber,” Reddix growled. “I don’t know why he’s letting her be there, but I sure as hell don’t intend to let you risk yourself for me like that.”
“It doesn’t have to be a risk,” she argued. “Didn’t you say there would be an escape plan and a ship waiting in case things got out of hand?”
“There will be,” Reddix said. “Mostly because I insisted on it. But I want you waiting inside the ship—ready to take off if the crowd goes against us. Tarsians aren’t known for their tolerance.”
“And Earthlings aren’t known for their weakness.” Nina frowned. “I will be there.”
Reddix opened his mouth to contradict her and then shut it and shook his head. The truth was, he needed her. Facing the emotional output of an angry crowd would be worse than his encounters with the children of the Feeling People as Nina had called them. So many intense feelings might knock him out or even kill him.
But it wasn’t just as a shield from emotion that he needed Nina. I want her by my side, he thought longingly. Always by my side. Still, he didn’t want to risk her.
“I don’t like it,” he growled at last. “It’s dangerous for you. And it’s not a good move politically, either. Think about it, the clans don’t want to hear that their future OverChief is committing what they consider incest and that the second who’s set to take his place is in love with an outsider they’ll never accept.”
“In love?” Nina’s eyes flew wide, and Reddix cursed himself for saying too much.
“Damn it, I didn’t mean…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he said lamely.
“That’s okay.” She looked away for a moment, her cheeks getting pink. “And I’m sorry if it doesn’t look good for me to be by your side, but I still need to be able to touch you during the gathering. What if I stood right behind you with one foot out the door, ready to run if thing go bad? I mean, you’re really big and tall—who would even know?”
Reddix considered. “That sounds reasonable,” he said at last. “But I still don’t understand why you’re so intent on risking yourself for me.”
“Maybe…maybe because I feel the same way you do,” Nina murmured, taking a step toward him. “Maybe because I care.”
Reddix’s shaft was painfully hard, and he had to curl his hands into fists to keep from reaching for her. Goddess, she was beautiful! He wanted her so badly it was like a physical ache that consumed him.
“You’ve already done so much for me,” he said hoarsely. “And I don’t deserve any of it. I don’t…don’t know how I can repay you.” He took a step toward her, wishing he could take her in his arms.
“There’s no charge,” Nina said quietly. “Unless…”
“Unless what?” He raised an eyebrow at her.
“Well, there’s an old Seminole tradition—it’s almost forgotten now, but Mehoo-Jimmy told me about it. When someone gives you something or does something for you that you can’t possibly repay, you give them a token of affection in return. Kind of…acknowledging what they did for you and how much it meant.”
“A token of affection?” Reddix asked, taking another step toward her. “Like what, exactly?”
“Oh, you know…” Nina’s cheeks got pink again, and she looked down, as though she couldn’t meet his eyes. “A hug or maybe…maybe a kiss.”
&n
bsp; He couldn’t stay away anymore. He closed the distance between them and took Nina in his arms. She flowed to him naturally, eagerly, winding her arms around his neck and pressing her body against his as though she didn’t want even the tiniest bit of space between them.
Reddix felt the same way. He kissed her fiercely—hungrily—as though he could claim her as his own by simply tasting her lips. But that wasn’t all he longed to taste tonight.
* * * * *
Nina’s heart was thumping so loudly she was sure Reddix could hear it—it seemed to shake her whole body. His arms felt so good around her—so right. And she loved the feel of his big, hard body pressed against hers. His mouth was tender but demanding at the same time, and he pulled her against him as though he never wanted to let her go.
The feeling was completely mutual. Nina threaded her fingers through his hair and gave what he was asking for freely. Somewhere inside she could hear a little voice whispering that she shouldn’t do this—that it would end badly. But she didn’t want to listen. Didn’t want to do anything but give herself completely to the intense sensation of the big Kindred’s body surrounding hers as he kissed her senseless.
But just as she was about to melt completely, Reddix pulled away.
“No,” he growled. “We shouldn’t. I shouldn’t. There’s still a lot you don’t know about me. Limitations…obligations…”
“I know enough,” Nina said quietly. “I know you feel that you have to take Saber’s place if the clans reject him and Lissa as their next leaders. I know you can’t have an outsider as a wife because your people wouldn’t stand for it.”
Reddix nodded. “That’s true. But there are other reasons too.”
Nina put a hand on his shoulder and looked into his eyes. “All I know is that we have tonight. And it may… may be the last night we’ll have together. Ever.”
It was hard to get the words out, but she had to acknowledge they were true. This might be her last chance to show Reddix how much she cared for him. And though she knew it would hurt to give herself completely, she thought it would hurt more to pass on this last chance and regret it afterward.
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