17FeliciaWhen I wake up, groggy and rising out of a nightmare in which Barinov’s slug-like hands were literally slugs, their slime trails crawling all over me, I reach across the bed for Lance. I want to feel the solidness of him. The solidness which tells of safety and security. The solidness which tells me that he’s here and nobody can hurt me. The solidness of a man protecting his woman. It’s something I’ve never sought before. Something I’ve never needed. I didn’t need a hero to protect me. A Knight in Shining Armor, Mr. Right, etc., etc. I never needed any of that. But circumstances have changed and I’m more adaptable than I thought.
I reach across, longing for his solid arm, the firm muscle of it . . .
But he’s not there.
I listen, trying to hear if he’s walking down the hallway,
