“Oh?”

“Mmm-hmmm. Nalla’s idea of finger painting is more is more. Especially when it’s all over her mahmen. Those were blue jeans when we started.”

When she pointed to the tub, Z glanced down at a wad of Levi’s that belonged at a murder scene. The denim was caked with red. “Wow.”

“Right? And I’ll spare you the fleece I was wearing. All I’ll say about that is Fritz was so excited to take it from me. I swear that doggen loves cleaning up messes like it’s his job.” Bella frowned. “I guess it is his job. That made no sense.”

As she laughed at herself, he leaned against the archway and enjoyed watching his shellan’s hands smooth the Neutrogena over her shoulders, her arms, her elbows. As things began to thicken in his blood, ideas of the naked variety occurred to him.

“Is she there still with Bitty?” he asked as his mate bent down and started working on her legs.

Please, dear God, let that babysitter be with her, he thought as his eyes tracked Bella’s hand going up her calf and over her knee, the two halves of the towel parting to reveal the skin of her thigh.

“Yup, the pair of them are having the best time—Bitty is just so terrific with her. I swear, that girl is a gem.” Abruptly, Bella stopped in mid-application and looked over at him. “What’s wrong?”

Z couldn’t keep himself from smiling slowly. “Well, at the moment, I’m sorely disappointed that I didn’t walk in here ten minutes ago as you were just getting into the shower. But I can work around that setback if I take that towel off of you. With my teeth.”

Bella straightened, and, tragically, lost none of her narrowed eye. “What happened tonight. You’re home early, aren’t you. Is everything okay? Who got hurt—”

“Everyone’s fine.” Z walked forward. “There’s nothing wrong.”

He slipped his hands around his mate’s waist, the softness of the terry cloth nothing compared to her skin. In response, her eyes went over the features of his face, and he let her look to her heart’s content. She was like this. She always knew whatever he didn’t speak, and yet he hadn’t lied. He’d gotten the group text that Qhuinn had come through the operation just fine. So everything was… just fine.

She put her arms around his neck and leaned into him. When she just stared up at him, he knew what she was doing. She was giving him a chance to elaborate, but also letting him have his privacy—and he hated that she had to do the latter. His therapy sessions with Mary were a weekly thing, and they had helped him a lot, but translating his feelings into words, or even just defining them and sorting through them in his own head, was still hard for him.

“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.