Jesus … Christ.
She inched back. “Honestly, I noticed my clothes were getting tight about a month ago. Maybe a little longer? I thought it was stress eating, or because I wasn’t making time for exercise? And then my moods starting getting wonky—and now that I look back on it … my breasts were sore, too. But I never got a period or anything. So I just don’t know? Oh, God, what if I harmed the baby by being with Layla? What if—”
“Beth, shh—Beth, listen to me. What did the doctor say about the young?”
“She said…” His mate sniffled. “She said he was beautiful. He’s perfect. He’s got the heart of a lion—”
At this, Beth collapsed in a fit of sobs, the kind of thing that was a release of emotion more than anything else. And as he held her, he stared out over her head.
“A son?” he said roughly.
“The doctor says he’s big and strong. And I saw him move,” she said through tears. “I didn’t know it was a baby, I thought it was indigestion—”
“So you were pregnant before the needing.”
“That’s the only explanation I have,” she wailed.
Wrath held her even closer, right to his beating chest. “…a son?”
“Yes. A son.”
All of a sudden, he felt the biggest, widest, happiest grin hit his face, the goddamn thing stretching his cheeks until they hurt, making his eyes water from the strain, pulling at his temples until they burned. And the joy wasn’t just on his puss. A flush so great it burned him alive flooded through his body, cleansing him in places he didn’t know were dirty, washing out cobwebs that had crept into his corners, making him feel alive in a way he hadn’t been in a very, very long time.
Before he knew what he was doing, he burst to his feet with Beth in his arms, leaned back, and hollered at the top of his lungs, with more pride than his six-foot-nine frame could hold.
“A soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooon! I’m having a soooooooooooooooooooooooon!”
SIXTY-FIVE
Beth fell in love with her son at that moment.
As Wrath howled at the moon with fatherly pride, she smiled through her tears and worry. It had been so long since she’d seen him well and truly happy—and yet here he was, in the midst of news she’d expected him to freak out about, shining like the sun.
And their son was the cause of it.
“Where the hell is everybody,” he bitched as he glared up the stairs.
“You just called them about two seconds ago—”
People came at a dead run, a traffic jam forming at the top of the stairs in spite of the fact that the thing was huge, the sound of big feet thundering down to the foyer as the Brothers came with their mates in tow.
“Here,” she said, taking out a flimsy slip of paper. “Show them this—it’s a picture from the ultrasound.”
Wrath shifted her around so he was holding her with one arm—and he took that pic and thrust it out like it was billboard size and made of gold.
“Look!” he barked. “Look! My son! My son!”
Beth had to laugh even as her tears ran harder.
“Look!”
His Brothers formed a circle around what he was holding out, and she was astonished … every one of them had a sheen across their eyes, their manly, tight smiles proof they were holding their emotions in check.
And then she looked at Tohr. He was hanging back, with Autumn close to his side. As his mate glanced up in concern, he seemed to brace himself to come forward.
“I’m so happy for you,” the Brother said roughly to both of them.
“Oh, Tohr,” she blurted, reaching out her hands.
As the Brother clasped them, Wrath dropped his arm as if hiding the picture.
“No,” Tohr cut in. “You keep that up, you feel that pride. I have a good feeling about this, and I’m rejoicing with you—all the way.”
“Ah, fuck,” Wrath said, yanking the Brother in for a hard embrace. “Thanks, my man.”
There were so many voices, and people congratulating them, but there was one other face she wanted to see.
John was also staying on the periphery, but as he caught her eye, he started to smile—although it wasn’t like Wrath’s. He was worried.
I’m going to be fine, she mouthed.
Even though she wasn’t sure she believed that. She blamed herself for not knowing she was pregnant, for trying to get that needing of hers started falsely—and especially for succeeding. What if that violent nausea had been a miscarriage in the making? What if—
Pulling herself back from the brink, she held on to two things—one, she’d heard that heartbeat, nice and strong; and two, the doctor had raved about the baby.