Dougie wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Part of him desperately wanted to be wrapped back up in Nikolai’s arms, in Nikolai’s private inner sanctum, borrowing Nikolai’s strength and conviction and basking in his love. But another part of him knew he needed this alone time to think, to process, to deal on his own. He wasn’t helpless. He needed not to feel helpless. Had to know he could cope, at least a little, on his own. Nikolai sat him on the bed with a lingering kiss to the crown of his head and a whispered good-night. He closed the door behind him, but he didn’t lock it. A show of good faith, no doubt. Of trust. Dougie wasn’t sure if Nikolai wanted him to take advantage of his freedom or not, but he suspected there was no wrong answer here. Felt confident enough in that, at least, not to add fresh fuel to the banked fire of his panic. Besides, he was certain as certain could be that all the doors leading up to the ground floor were locked—Nikolai knew better than to trust him that far—and there wasn’t a single thing in the basement he wanted to see.
