"Sela—"
"You're bleeding. I'm a trauma nurse. Shirt. Off."
He complies. The wound on his left arm is a graze, angry red and bleeding sluggishly, but the bullet passed through without hitting anything vital. Could have been worse. Could have hit the brachial artery.
I grab the first aid supplies Finn mentioned and clean the wound with steady movements. I apply antibiotic ointment and dress it properly. My hands know this work, familiar motions that ground me.
"You'll live."
"Thanks for the professional assessment."
My fingers are shaking now. The post-adrenaline crash is hitting full force. The steady control I had during the firefight is gone, replaced by tremors I can't stop.
Marc's palm covers mine. "Sela."
"We almost died."
"But we didn't."
"We almost died and I shot someone and men are hunting us and?—"
He pulls me to him. His arms come around me. Solid. Warm. Real. Alive.
I don't cry. Don't fall apart. Just stand there and let someone else hold the weight for a minute.
When I pull back, his eyes are dark and intent. Looking at me like I'm the only thing in the world that matters.
Something shifts in my chest. Recognition maybe. Want definitely.
"If this is a bad idea," my voice comes out rough, "say so now."
His jaw tightens. "Worst possible idea. You're a civilian under my protection. I should walk out that door."
"You won't though."
"No." He reaches up. Cups my face. Thumb brushes across my cheekbone. "Haven't been able to think straight since I pulled you out of that parking garage."
I lean into his touch. "Then shut up and kiss me."
He does.
Hard and demanding and everything I need right now. I kiss him back with equal intensity. He's already reaching for me. Hands on my hips. Drawing me in.
We break apart. Both gasping. His pupils are blown wide. Mouth already swollen from the kiss.
"Wait," nurse brain kicking in even now. "I need to know you're safe."
"I'm clean. Last physical. Haven't been with anyone since."
"I've got an implant. Tested clean at Palmer onboarding." I meet his eyes. "You sure?"
"I'm sure."
He reaches for the hem of my shirt. Pulls it over my head. His eyes darken as he looks at me. The way he's looking at me makes heat pool low in my belly.
I reach for his belt. Fingers work the buckle. "Bed."
We shed clothes between kisses. His mouth on my neck. Teeth scraping. My nails dragging down his back. Hands learning each other with urgent need. No hesitation. No second thoughts. Just want and heat and the desperate need to feel alive after almost dying.
