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He crouches in front of her, looking as though he's choosing his words with the same care he uses during Council negotiations. “It's a word grownups sometimes say when they're upset. But there are better words to use.”

Darlene thinks about that. “Like oh no?”

“Yes. Exactly like oh no.”

“Or goodness?”

“Goodness is excellent.”

She nods, apparently pleased with the explanation. “Okay. I'll say goodness.”

“Thank you.”

Darlene turns toward Arlene. “Can I go play now?”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

She skips toward the door, then stops and looks back at Rylan.

“Goodness, Uncle Rylan.”

Arlene bends over laughing.

I cover my mouth, but it's useless. Rylan remains crouched beside the bed, staring at Darlene as she disappears into the hallway.

When the door closes, I finally let myself laugh.

He stands slowly. “You enjoyed that.”

“Immensely.”

Arlene wipes beneath one eye. “I'm sorry, Alpha. I really am.”

“No, you're not.”

“No,” she admits, laughing again. “I'm really not.”

I lean back and look at my mate. “So. What did we learn today?”

Rylan sighs. “Watch my language around the pups.”

“Goodness,” I say.

He points at me. “Don't start.”

Arlene laughs again, and I decide that whatever Rylan came upstairs to tell us can wait another minute.

38

Arlene’s POV

Arian makes the smallest sound against Darian’s chest, somewhere between a sigh and a squeak, and all five of us freeze like he’s just made some grand announcement.

Darian looks down first. Our son is curled against him, one tiny fist tucked beneath his chin, his cheek pressed to the center of his father’s bare chest. His little mouth moves once before settling again. Still asleep. Damian and Darlene lean over the back of the couch, staring at their baby brother as if they expect him to perform a trick if they watch long enough.

“He smiled,” Darlene whispers.

“He has gas,” Damian whispers back.