Tina shrugged. "I don't know. A bedtime story?"
"What is a bedtime story?"
"Never mind."
She started to get ready for bed and realized she didn't have, well, anything.
Like no clothing to put on. No pajamas.
"Well, crap. How's that going to work?" she muttered to herself. There was a wall of drawers, and she started opening them. Inside one, she found some men's shirts. T-shirts, but cut slightly differently. Not cotton, but a similar feel to the fabric. She pulled one out and decided it would be her sleep shirt. She figured she would tell Kolvin that she'd taken one of his shirts later.
That wine-ale stuff must have been getting to her because once she changed, she hardly remembered crawling into the bed before she fell asleep.
Dreams about stars and floating away into the unknown filled her head as she slept. All of them, with this large male with white eyes there, helping her. Guiding her. Protecting her.
And loving her. In all the ways. Even ways she'd never had before.
Intense was not nearly enough to describe it.
She woke with a start, sweating, she guessed from the intense dreams she had about, well it had to be Kolvin because it couldn't be anyone else. But it was powerful.
And it--
A strangled cry came from the apartment.
Tina leaped out of bed and was out the door before she registered what she was doing. While mostly dark, the apartment had some soft ambient light that made a light silvery glow to the room, outlining where many things were.
Except for one thing on the floor.
Kolvin.
Writhing in pain.
Crying out.
"Kolvin," she said and crossed to him.
Had something happened? Was he sick?
Had he eaten something?
Had someone attacked them? She patted her body and felt no wounds. She looked over Kolvin, who had not bothered with a blanket or pillow. He had no signs of an injury either.
He started to shake and twist in pain.
"Kolvin," she whispered. "Kolvin. Here. Listen to my voice."
His body began to relax.
"Shh. I'm here," she said.
He didn't say as much, but he shifted and stretched back out.
She stroked his hair, brushing the damp strands out of his face.
"You are safe. You are cared for. You are loved," she whispered.
She didn't think about what she said, only that she'd heard others tell people in deep states like his such things to get them back to an understanding of the world around them. He'd understand it on a primitive level, a place of security, she assumed.
