“What’s wrong?” she asked sharply, coming up to him, but he shook his head.
“Nothing. Tired.”
Her brows went up, and she peered at him as she pushed him gently backward until he sank into the overstuffed chair. Not the couch, he noticed. He rather liked the couch.
Instead, Maria took up position on the low coffee table, regarding him intently as she settled her elbows on her knees. “Demons get tired?”
The question was so unexpected, Warrick barked a laugh, then winced again, hiding the reaction from Maria before she demanded that he strip. His body would heal. It needed time.
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