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It wasn’t that he didn’t understand why she’d gotten upset with him. And it wasn’t that he didn’t think he deserved some kind of punishment. He just hated the fact that Beth wasn’t sleeping at home and he had to text his shellan for permission to call her.

The fact that he hadn’t slept in days had to be part of the pissed-off as well.

And he probably needed to feed. But like sex, it had been so long since he’d done it, he could barely remember what it was.

He glanced around the study and wished he could self-medicate the urge to scream by going out and fighting something: His only other options were hitting the gym or getting drunk, and he was just back from the former and not all that interested in the latter.

He checked his phone again. Beth hadn’t returned his text, and he’d left it three hours ago. Which was fine. She was probably just busy, or sleeping.

The hell it was fine.

He got to his feet, slipped his RAZR into the back pocket of his leathers, and headed for the double doors. The doggen just outside in the hall was putting a ton of elbow grease into the buff-and-polish routine, and the fresh smell of lemon that rose from his efforts was thick.

“My lord,” the doggen said, bowing low.

“You’re doing great work.”

“As is my pleasure.” The male beamed. “It is my joy to serve you and your household.”

Wrath clapped a palm on the servant’s shoulder and then jogged down the stairs. When he got to the foyer’s mosaic floor, he went left, toward the kitchen, and he was glad that there was nobody inside. Opening up the refrigerator, he confronted all manner of leftovers and took out a half-eaten turkey with no enthusiasm whatsoever.

Turning toward the cabinets—

“Hi.”

He jerked his head over his shoulder. “Beth? What are…I thought you were at Safe Place.”

“I was. But I came back just now.”

He frowned. As a half-breed, Beth was able to tolerate sunlight, but he stressed the fuck out every time she traveled during the day. Not that he went into it now. She knew how he felt, and besides, she was home, and that was all that mattered.

“I was making something to eat,” he said, even though the turkey sitting on the butcher-block table was a dead giveaway. “You want to join me?”

God, he loved the way she smelled. Night-blooming roses. Homier to him than any lemon polish, more gorgeous than any perfume.

“How about I make something for both of us?” she said. “You look like you’re about to fall down.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to say, Nah, I’m tight, when he stopped. Even the smallest of half-truths was going to underscore the issues between them—and the fact that he was utterly exhausted wasn’t even a little lie.

“That would be great. Thank you.”

“Have a seat,” she said, coming over to him.

He wanted to hug her.

He did.

Wrath’s arms just snapped out, latched onto her, and pulled her against his chest. Realizing what he’d done, he went to let her go, but she stayed with him, keeping their bodies together. With a shudder, he dropped his head down into her fragrant, silky hair and gathered her up, molding her softness to the contours of his hard muscles.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he said.

“I’ve missed you, too.”

As she sagged against him, he wasn’t a fool to think this moment was an instant cure-all, but he would take what he had been given.

Pulling back, he moved his wraparounds up onto the top of his head so she could see his useless eyes. To him, her face was blurry and beautiful, though the fresh-rain scent of tears didn’t please him. He brushed both her cheeks with his thumbs.

“Will you let me kiss you?” he asked.

When she nodded, he cradled her face in his palms and brought his mouth down to hers. The cushioned contact was at once utterly, heartbreakingly familiar and yet something from the past. It seemed like forever since they had done more than peck—and that separation wasn’t just what he’d done. It was everything. The war. The Brothers. The glymera. John and Tohr. This household.

Shaking his head, he said, “Life has gotten in the way of our life.”

“You