He switched on the bedside lamp and in its dim, golden glow I could see that his face was troubled.
“I heard you cry out. You had a bad dream—a nightmare I think.”
“I used to have them a lot as a kid.” I ran a shaking hand through my tangled hair. “But I haven’t had one in years. And then I woke up and I thought…I thought you were…” I looked at him, unable to finish the sentence.
“Is all right,” he said quietly.
“It’s not all right,” I said angrily, swiping at my wet eyes. “You should have tried harder to wake me up. You shouldn’t have played along like that. I was crying like a little girl! You let me embarrass myself.”
He spread his hands. “Of what do you have to be embarrassed? You were hurt—I held you. Why is this so bad?”
“Because I’m not a little girl—not anymore,” I snapped.
“Part of you is, perhaps,” he said quietly. “Part is still hurting. It is as Dr. Stevens said—this place is bringing out ‘issues.’”
“No, it’s not!” I denied vehemently. “It’s bringing back memories but that is not the same thing. Not at all.”
“How is different?” Salt asked, raising an eyebrow.
“It’s…it’s…just not the same thing,” I said lamely. “Look, I just need to get back to sleep. We have a long day tomorrow.”
“Do you want me to stay with you? Rock you some more to keep away nightmares?”
At first I thought he was teasing me or making fun of me. But then I looked at his face and saw that he was absolutely serious—he was offering to take me in his arms and rock me like a baby until I fell asleep again.
Just like Daddy used to do, whispered a voice in my head. I pushed it away.
“No, thank you,” I said as coolly as I could. “I can get to sleep just fine on my own.”
“Very well.” Salt started to get up. But as he was preparing to leave, I thought of lying in the darkness again, all alone in the big room and the strange, chilly bed. The night pressed in around me, cold and lonely and scary and I couldn’t help shivering.
Are you…” I cleared my throat and looked away. “Are you coming to bed any time soon?”
“Do you want me to come to bed, mishka?” he asked softly.
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him not to call me that but somehow I couldn’t say the words.
“Well, I mean you don’t have to but it is getting late,” I hedged. “And we need to be on our game tomorrow. You should probably get some rest.”
“Very well.” Salt nodded and went to close the bedroom door. “I will come to bed.”
He slid under the covers and patted the bed beside him.
“Come. Little girls need their sleep.”
“I’m not a little girl,” I reminded him. But I slid under the covers anyway beside him, though I took care to leave some space between us.
The bed had cooled again and the sheets were chilly against my skin. I shivered and tucked my knees up to my chest—my hands and feet were freezing.
“Come here.” I felt Salt’s long arm wrap around me and then he was pulling me close.
“Salt…” I protested halfheartedly. But he was already tucking me against his side, one arm wrapped protectively around my shaking shoulders.
“Hush,” he murmured sternly. “Go to sleep.”
“But—”
“Go to sleep,” he repeated.
There didn’t seem to be anything else to do. It seemed strange and wrong to be pressed from chest to thigh against my partner—strange and wrong but also comforting. The spicy scent of his aftershave and the warmth of his bare chest against me felt wonderful. I could hear his heartbeat again, as I had while he held me in his lap. It was slow and steady in my ear as I pressed my cheek to his chest. Lub-dub, lub-dub…
The soft rhythm lulled me into relaxing against him. I liked the feel of the big, male body pressed against mine, liked the feeling of safety and security I felt when Salt held me close like this. I liked feeling protected…cherished…cared for.
These were feelings I hadn’t had for a very, very long time. Not since childhood. I had forgotten how good it felt to be held in the arms of a man who would kill or die to protect me, as Stevens had said. Forgotten how much I liked feeling cared for and safe.