"When did I get you?"
Marc shrugged out of the gun belts and laid them on the stand near the bed as Dog curled up under the front corner. "First few shots. It's just a trim."
Angela rolled her eyes at the crusted, three-inch furrow along the underside of his arm, "I'm always hurting you, Brady. I'm sorry."
He noticed that she had cleaned herself up and put on the jeans and black shirt from her emergency bag. They'd gotten lucky to have them close by when the wolves attacked. "Mistakes happen."
"I could have killed you."
Marc tensed as she cleaned the wound with alcohol pads, and Angela found herself watching the way his muscles flexed.
"This world is full of chaos. It was your first real fight. I think you did great."
She met his eye, needing to know how true it was. "Really?"
"Yes," Marc said, his tone revealing that he wasn't blowing smoke and Angela smiled, fighting the urge to reach out and run a soft hand along his lightly-bearded jaw.
"You learned well."
Her eyes darkened, and she looked down at his injury, letting the Doctor take over. "Hope it's enough."
Marc twitched at the needle as it sank into his skin, and Angela moved faster. It occurred to her that she now had stitching in both of his big arms. How many more times would he be put in the line of fire for her? The wind outside picked up suddenly as if responding, and Angela shivered.
"Damn. It got colder. How would they keep warm in these back rooms?" Marc mused.
Angela kept her tone light, but flushed at the pictures running through her mind. "They don't use them. They all share one bed for body heat."
Marc's eyes showed understanding: that explained all the people in one sloppy tangle in that center room, and it made him think of how the big woman had held his arm as she led him through, fingers caressing. Lenore had whispered of being a good master if he was unhappy with his current one.
Angela turned to look at him, anger making the demon's red eyes bleed through. "She made a move on you when she brought you back here?"
Marc said nothing and Angela moved to her side of the bed as she dried her hands and controlled her rage. She had no real claim to him. If he wanted to sleep with the woman, he could.
"I don't."