Drifting back to consciousness takes time. It happens piece by piece. First, I become aware that Tristan is holding me. Then I realise my face is pressed against his naked chest. Finally, I notice that we are in the bath.
Tristan is sitting on the low seat. I’m sideways on his lap with my head resting on his pec. The warm water is up to my neck. And we are both utterly naked.
Gentle fingers tuck my hair behind my ear and I snuggle closer to the broad plains of his body.
“Hey, you are awake,” says Tristan, and he sounds greatly relieved.
How long was I out for? The only window in here is frosted, and I can’t tell if it is natural or artificial light that is seeping through. I don’t even know if it is day or night. I could have been passed out for minutes or days. I have no idea, and my eyes flutter closed against the disorientation.
Something cold presses against my lips. Its hardness startles me and I flinch, but I don’t open my eyes.
“Drink,” orders Tristan.
Oh, it is water. I gulp it down. Cold, cleansing, and refreshing.
“All of it,” Tristan says, but I don’t need any encouragement.
I drain the glass in no time at all. It disappears from my lips and I hear a soft clink as Tristan places it down on the tiled edge of the bath.
“Good boy,”
His fingers are cool from the glass when he places them under my chin and tilts my head up.
“Look at me,” he says softly.
I open my eyes and his striking face swims into focus. His ruby eyes peer at me intently, and he frowns. Then the world shifts and tilts. We are moving. He is standing up and carrying me out of the bath as if I weigh nothing.
He places my feet on the warm tiles and then proceeds to dry me thoroughly and vigorously with a very soft and fluffy towel.
Then everything spins again as he swoops me back up into his arms. He strides, both of us buck naked, out of the bathroom and to the bedroom. The curtains are drawn, so I still have no idea if it is day or night.
He gently lays me down on the soft furs of the bed. He climbs in beside me and puts his arms over me.
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
I ponder the question for a moment. How am I feeling? Empty, I think. Hollow. Like a husk. As if I have used up all my emotions and don’t have any left. I’m so numb, I don’t think I am feeling anything.
I give Tristan a shrug for an answer.
He makes a strange noise and tightens his arms around me. Being held is such an unusual experience. Granny was never one for hugs. My mum certainly wasn’t. I guess being a prickly bastard runs in the family.
“Go to sleep, Nisny. You will feel better in the morning.”
It seems as good an idea as any, so I close my eyes and let sleep take me.
“Eat something.”
I blink and try to gather my thoughts. It feels like coming back from an intense daydream, except I can’t for the life of me recall what I was just thinking about.
I look down at the huge array spread out on the table. There is porridge, and soup. As well as roasted meats. Grapes and a shit ton of cheese.
What the hell is this? Breakfast, lunch or dinner? I glance out of the window. Grey and overcast daylight looks back at me. Breakfast or lunch then because this time of year it would be dark at dinner time.
I look over at Tristan to see if I can pick up any clues. To my surprise, his cheeks flush with colour.
“It is all the food you seemed to enjoy before.”
Oh. Is it? I look back down at it all. None of it is taking my fancy. I’m not hungry.
