I try to turn towards him, but my neck is locked in place. “You have a neck brace on,” he explainsfrom just out of sight when I try to thrash against the restraint. “It’s a precaution. You kept throwingyourself around in your sleep, so they strapped you down so you wouldn’t get hurt.”
“Where are you?” My voice is little more than a rasp, but Nikolai hears me. He gets up out of thearmchair he was sitting in and stands next to my bed where I can see him.
He isn’t shirtless or sweaty like he was in my dream, but his facial features are all exactly where theyshould be. I guess that’s a good thing, more or less.
“You hurled yourself down a flight of stairs.” He looks down at the floor. His hands are shoved deepin his pockets, and I wonder if there’s room in there for me to hide. Because I wa
