He was trying to talk, but his mouth was so dry, his tongue was thick.
"Shhh." She gripped his hand. Put her face in his line of vision in case he opened his eyes. "I'm right here."
His fingers twitched in hers. And then he faded away again.
God, he looked like hell. Pale as the ceramic tiles on the OR's floor. Eyes sunk deep into his skull.
He had a thick bandage on his throat. His belly was wrapped in gauze and cotton pads, with drains leading out of the wound. There was an IV pumping fluids and painkillers into his arm and a catheter bag hanging off the bedside. A tangle of EKG wires were stuck on his chest, and an oxygen sensor was clipped onto his middle finger.
But he was alive. For now.
And he'd stirred to consciousness, even if it was just for a moment.
It was like that for the next two days. He would surface and sink, surface and sink, as if he had to keep checking that she was with him before he went back to the herculean job of healing his body.
Eventually, she had to sleep, so the brothers brought in a more comfortable chair, and someone gave her a pillow and a blanket. She woke up an hour later, still clutching Wrath's hand.
She ate when she was forced to, because Tohrment or Wellsie demanded that she did. And she took a shower in the anteroom. Quickly. When she got back, Wrath's legs and arms were flailing wildly and Wellsie had called for Havers.
The instant Beth took Wrath's hand, he calmed right down. She didn't know how long the waiting would go on. But every time he came back to her, she drew a little strength. She could wait. For an eternity, she could wait for him.
Wrath's mind came back online in a rush of activity. One minute he wasn't aware of anything; the next, his circuits started firing again. He didn't know where he was, and his eyelids were too heavy to open, so he did a quick scan of his body. Lower half felt okay, toes moved, legs were still attached. Whoa, ouch. His stomach felt like it had been punched with a tire iron. But his chest was solid. Neck was burning. Head was achy. Arms were good. Hands -
Beth.
He was used to feeling her palm against his. Where was she?
His eyes flipped open.
She was right beside him, sitting in a chair, her head down on the bed as if she were asleep. His first thought was that he shouldn't wake her up. She was obviously exhausted.
But he wanted to touch her. Needed to.
He tried to reach out with his free hand, but his arm felt like it weighed four hundred pounds. He struggled, willing the limb across his body, dragging it over the bedcovers inch by inch. He didn't know how long it took. Maybe hours.
But then he finally touched a lock of her hair. The silken feel of it was a miracle.
He was alive, and so was she.
Wrath started to cry.
The instant Beth felt the bed shudder, she woke up in a panic. The first thing she saw was Wrath's hand. His fingers were wrapped around a long strand of her hair.
She looked up at his face. Tears were rolling out of his eyes.
"Wrath! Oh, love." She leaned up to him, smoothed his hair back. He was totally distressed. "Are you hurting?"
He opened his mouth. Nothing came out. He started to panic, his eyes peeling open until the whites showed.
"Easy, love, take it easy. Just relax," she said. "I want you to squeeze my hand, once for yes, twice for no. Are you in pain?"
No.
She gently stroked the tears from his whiskered cheeks. "Are you sure?"
Yes.
"Do you want me to get Havers?"
No.
"Do you need anything?"
Yes.
"Food? Drink? Blood?"
No.
He began to get agitated, his pale, wild eyes imploring her.
"Shhh, it's okay." She kissed his forehead. "Just calm down. We'll figure out what you need. We've got plenty of time."
His eyes fixated on their linked hands and came back to her face. Then his gaze locked on their hands and returned again.
"Me?" she whispered. "You need me?"
He squeezed and wouldn't stop.
"Oh, Wrath... You have me. We're together, love."
Tears poured out of him in a mad rush, his chest quaking from the sobs, his breathing jagged and raw.
She took his face in his hands, trying to soothe him. "It's