My closed eyelids in the dark room.
In the dark hotel room.
In Spain.
I pushed out a ragged breath as I opened my eyes. The room was mostly dark, not pitch black like my bedroom would be. Because we were in a hotel room. Our hotel room in Córdoba. Thousands of miles and years removed from the horrors that still haunted me.
The air conditioner alternately rattled and hummed, further separating this place from my bedroom in Sanlúcar, but firmly settling me into this room.
Alex’s warmth oriented me. Grounded me. His fingers carded through my hair again, and I shivered as I closed my eyes. My mouth was parched, but I managed, “Sorry.”
The arm around me loosened a little. “Don’t be sorry. Are you okay?”
I nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see me and murmured, “I will be.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really.” I swallowed bile. “I don’t know if that’s healthy, but… no.”
“It’s okay.” Those fingers through my hair were the most soothing thing ever. “Whatever you need. We don’t have to talk about anything.”
I closed my eyes and pressed into him. My jaw still ached and my teeth hurt. I must’ve been clenching them for real while I’d been dreaming; that happened sometimes.
The cold blood I’d felt soaking through my clothes turned out to be sweat making the sheets stick to my skin.
“Ugh.” I peeled them away. “I’m sweating like crazy. I need a damn shower.”
“Do you want me to join you?”
It wasn’t a come-on. If anything, his voice was laced with concern. As if he wasn’t sure he should let me out of his sight.
“I’m okay,” I whispered as I started to sit up. “I’ve already woken you up. Go back to sleep; I’ll be quiet.”
“I’m not worried about that. I’m worried about you.” He got up. “And I’m sweaty too.”
“Shit. Sorry about?—”
He touched my waist in the darkness. “It’s okay. Come on.” He gently steered me toward the bathroom. “Shower.”
The shower helped. Having him in there with me, even though the stall was tight for two people, also helped. Nothing brought me back into the here and now like his affectionate hands soaping up my body while I did the same for him. This stark white bathroom could not be further from anything I ever showered in over there, and there’d never been water this hot or with this much pressure. I didn’t have that constant hypervigilance and crippling fatigue. No sand in my boots or under my clothes. I was naked and didn’t feel the least bit vulnerable or exposed. I was wrapped up in someone’s arms like I never could’ve been in a warzone.
I was safe. I was here. I was in Spain. In Córdoba. In a hotel. In this shower.
In Alex’s arms.
I was safe.
Though the dream had long since dissipated, the metallic tang of blood remained in my mouth.
I drew back a little and touched my lip, and the salt of my finger stung. “Shit. I think I bit my lip.”
“You okay?” Alex studied me. “I don’t see anything.”
“Yeah.” I felt around with my tongue. “Yeah, just… It’s not bad. It’s on the inside, I think. Just stings a little.”
He grimaced. “I’ve done that. It sucks.”
I grunted in agreement. “It’ll be fine, though.”