A Warm Heart in Winter(21)

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Her smile was so beautiful, the center of his chest ached. “I love you.”

God, those three words covered so much territory, didn’t they: Don’t be sorry. I’m here and going nowhere. I accept you how and where you are. You are not as broken as you’re telling yourself you are, and you’ll talk about it when you’re ready.

Just as he was dropping down to kiss her mouth, there was a knock on the door and Z glared at the wood panels all the way across the room. The fact that their bed, their big, soft, blanket-laden bed, loomed in his peripheral vision, a nirvana that was potentially getting sidetracked, made him . . . what were the right words?

Cranky as fuck.

“What,” he ground out over his shoulder.

Through the closed doors, Tohr’s voice was all business. “Wrath’s called a meeting. I tried your cell phone.”

“Fucking hell,” Z muttered. And then, louder, “Coming.”

Bella ran her hands over his shoulders. “We’ll pick this up where we left off later.”

He shook his head. “I owe you an apology.”

“You can’t control when meetings happen.”

“Not about that.” He ducked his eyes. “I just wish . . . I were easier.”

“Are you kidding me? Compared to the likes of Vishous? Wrath? Wait, how about—”

“Lassiter.”

“—Lassiter.”

They laughed together a little, and then he said, “But I’m really sorry.”

Those three words were like the ones she’d spoken to him, covering more territory than just their Merriam-Webster definitions: As soon as I know what’s bothering me, I’ll come to you first. I’m okay, truly, and I’m so grateful for your patience. I’m trying to get better at relating, but sometimes I still get stuck and I wish I didn’t.

Oh, and one more: Right now, my job requirements are a serious pain in my ass.

And a last one: I can’t wait to be naked with you.

“You don’t have a thing to be sorry about.” Bella stroked his super short skull trim. “And you know where to find me.”

“Tell my Nalla I said hello? And that Daddy loves her.”

“Always.”

Sweeping his arms all the way around his terrycloth-clad mate, he tilted her back so that her weight was his to bear. Then he brought his lips to hers . . . and kissed the ever-loving crap out of her.

When he finally stopped, she was flushed, panting, and fully aroused. “Oh, my . . .” she said in a breathy way.

Well. Didn’t that make a male feel two feet taller.

“I really wish I didn’t have to go,” he growled.

“Yeah. Me, too,” she said with a laugh.

One more kiss and then he left the room walking backwards because he didn’t want to leave her. And yet he sometimes didn’t want to face her, either. After all the time they’d spent together, and the beautiful young they’d created, and all the love there was between them? Sometimes he disappeared even when he was standing in front of her.

Yet she understood him enough to let him go to the spaces he fell into, content to wait for his return.

“Later,” he vowed.

Bella smiled in a way that made him wonder how fast things could happen in Wrath’s little frickin’ meeting. “Later, my male. Maybe I’ll even run away a little just so you can catch me.”

The tips of Z’s fangs started to tingle, and his upper lip curled back. The animal in him loved when he got to chase her, and boy, she loved being caught.

He was still growling deep in the back of his throat as he stepped out into the Hall of Statues. Stalking his way to the open double doors of Wrath’s study, he was surprised to see everyone already crammed into the four-walls-and-a-ceiling.

He’d assumed it would just be him, filling the King and Tohr in on what had happened with the Qhuinn stabbing. But nope. It was standing room only, every fighter in their normal positions on and around the delicate antique French furniture, the big bodies and loud, deep voices sucking up all the air in the room. The King was likewise behind his sire’s giant desk as usual, sitting on his sire’s giant old throne, the golden retriever in his lap like a throw blanket with all that blond fur. George, Wrath’s guide dog, was looking at everyone and offering wags, even as he would never leave his master’s side. Whether he was on the lap, by the feet, or sitting pretty at the dagger hand of the King, George’s friendliness was pervasive, but his love and loyalty singular.

Z went over to the corner he usually stood in. Phury, his twin, was there, along with Xhex.

“How’s by you?” his brother asked quietly. “Do you know what this is about?”

Wrath spoke up around his dog. “Are we all here? What are we doing? I’m not getting any younger.”

The great Blind King, now democratically elected, was already frowning behind his wraparounds like he’d been waiting for twelve hours, his widow’s peak and long black hair making him look more than a little evil, especially as he clipped his words.

Then again, the male could work himself into a lather over the delay of a second and a half.

Tohr, who was at the King’s side, cleared his throat and spoke up over the din. “We’re all here.”