"I don't need to lie down," she groused as she stared at the ceiling over their bed. When Wrath didn't reply, she turned her head on the pillow and shot a glare in his direction. He was sitting at the foot of the mattress, shoulders set, jaw locked, huge body still as stone. "I'm fine," she tacked on. "Uh-huh." "This is going to be a really long couple of months if we worry about every little twinge." "You just tried to throw up your liver." "I did not." "So you were working on your pancreas?" She crossed her arms over her chest. "I can feel you glaring at me," Wrath said. "Well, I am. This is ridiculous."