Her eyes flew to his in time to see him grimace as he tried to pull on his shirt.
"You sure?"
Marc's eyes were amused, and it calmed her. "Yes."
He began trying to button the emergency shirt, but with only one arm and pain shooting through the other, it was slow going.
Angela waved a hand at him. "Leave it open or you're gonna rip out those stitches."
"You could do it for me," he suggested, feeling the throbbing increase.
She frowned, thinking he wouldn't ask for a painkiller, but he'd take it if she said to. What was it with men and their pride?
"There's Vicodin in my bag, top left side. Take two, leave the shirt as it is, and go to bed, will ya?"
Marc raised a brow at the curtness and Angela sighed. "Damn. I'm sorry, Brady."
He moved slowly towards her bag. "You wanna tell me what's got you on edge?"
Angela turned toward the window, glad for the bars on it as she spotted shadows padding restlessly outside. "Besides the wolves out there? I'm not sure. "
Marc saw the V on the bottle and dry swallowed two of the tiny blue pills without really looking at them, thinking she sounded restless.
"Nerves from today. You wanna talk it out, play some cards? Both?"
She shook her head, shivering. She wasn't anywhere near ready for that bed, either. "No."
Marc sat in the chair and began working on their guns, hands always sure and steady.
He was right, it was just nerves from the battle, Angela agreed, starting her own nightly rituals, but she was very aware of the man pretending not to watch her. This was their first time in a real bed together since they'd made a baby, and the old Angela was harassing her with memories of how good their time together had been. The mating had been sweet, soft and beautiful, and she'd forgotten none of it.
Marc knew she was thinking about him, but kept quiet, sure he was out of time. If she said her man was close, then he was and that meant this was their last night alone together. His heart was already breaking, missing her, and Marc burned to remind her of what it was like to be made love to, instead of being taken.
The sparks in the room thickened, and Angie felt him tense when she unbraided her long, black hair and began to brush it.
"Can I do that for you?" he heard himself asking, thinking his heart was pounding harder than it should be.