which he’d planned.
Tossing the pillow on the bed, he walked to the door and lightly rapped upon it.
Tabitha responded with a growl fierce enough to have given most predators pause.
He couldn’t keep the smile from his face. Tabitha was complicated, and there were still many things about her that he didn’t understand, but he adored her vitality, her spirit. He was grateful that he’d not broken it through his stupidity.
“I’m sorry, Tabitha.” Though his words were nothing but sincere, they felt strangely empty; he knew they could not make up for any of this. “When you are ready, come down to the kitchen.”
She made no further response. Zevris lingered in front of the door, searching for something more to say, but there were no simple words to fix this. He could only hope that she’d come.
Tail coiling around his leg tight enough to hurt, Zevris left the bedroom and went downstairs to await his mate.
Fourteen
“I suppose we’re bonded by being recipients of that glare,” Zevris said, folding his arms across his chest and leaning his backside against the counter. “And we were both deserving.”
Dexter glanced up at Zevris without lifting his head. He was lying on the floor now, chin on his paws, doing his best to look contrite and pathetic. He’d had his paws on the table and was sniffing at the covered plates when Zevris came downstairs only moments ago. The dog and the faloran had exchanged a long, heavy stare before the dog had dropped down on all fours, sauntered away from the table, and assumed his current position.
Zevris sighed and shifted his attention to the table. With all the improvised coverings, the arrangement wasn’t quite as impressive as he’d thought. It looked…haphazard. Sloppy. Like it had been an impulsive decision, executed without any true plan, thrown together on a whim.
Even if that was all true, that was not the image he wanted to present.
He pushed away from the counter and stepped over to Dexter, crouching. The dog turned his eyes up toward Zevris, looking even sadder and more apologetic than ever.
“Stay put,” Zevris commanded. “Do not touch the food.”
Dexter’s tail thumped on the floor once and went still.
Though the answer was not satisfactory, Zevris accepted it. He only needed a minute or two. Rising, he hurried to the back door, deactivated the security field and disengaged the lock, and slid it open.
After a final warning glance at Dexter—who was facing away now but had his ears perked—Zevris stepped out into the back yard. He jogged to the fence, checked for any onlookers, and climbed over into Tabitha’s yard. Her back door was still unlocked. As he slipped inside, he reprimanded himself again.
This place was her home, and the items within were her belongings. It was inconsiderate of him to leave it unsecured and vulnerable. He’d have to remedy that today.
But for now, his goal was simple and clear. He walked into her kitchen, plucked the potted cactus off its windowsill perch, and returned to his dwelling.
As Zevris entered his kitchen, his pace slowed, and he arched a brow. Dexter was still lying on his belly with his head down, but Zevris could’ve sworn the dog was at least a couple feet closer to the table. Eyes narrowed on the animal, Zevris brought the cactus to the table, set it down, and shifted the food-laden plates in an attempt to find a more symmetrical layout.
After a minute or two of fiddling, he stepped back. It was far from perfect, but it would have to do. He was already stretching his limited selection of flatware as far as it could go.
Zevris glanced down at Dexter again. Those big, dark eyes, so sad and sorry, were almost enough to convince Zevris that he’d been the one who’d done wrong and not Dexter.
They were almost enough to convince him the dog hadn’t moved a few inches closer.
Zevris returned to the counter, leaned his backside against it, and propped his hands on the countertop to either side of his hips. He eyed the dog skeptically.
Dexter released a huff that made his lips flap.
With a huff of his own, Zevris turned his gaze to the hallway. Would Tabitha come down? She must’ve been hungry, but she’d also been furious with him. It was quite possible that her anger would outweigh her appetite, and she’d avoid him for the rest of the day.
Not that he’d allow that to happen.
Twenty-nine days…
He understood that she needed space, that she needed time to adjust to this