The King(215)

His body was different now, harder, more defined. Larger.

And his expression was not the same. At least, not when this new mood of his settled upon his shoulders.

As if sensing her regard, he looked over at her.

“How long will you be gone?” she asked. “And do not lie. I know for what purpose you are leaving.”

He turned away from her, to the oak table on which clothing she had never seen before had materialized, brought in by the Brotherhood. Everything was black.

“I shall return at dawn.”

His voice was lower than normal, colder than normal. And then she realized that he was putting on a leather strapping o’er his chest. Just as the Brothers wore.

“You are going to fight?” she whispered through a closed throat.

When he finally answered her, it was after he’d put two black daggers, handle down, over his heart. “I shall return at dawn.”

“You’re going to kill them, aren’t you.”

“Do you want me to answer that?”

“Yes.”

Wrath, her mate, her love, the father of her nascent young, approached her where she sat afore her vanity mirror. When he got down upon his knees, it was a relief, because he was almost familiar that way. Especially as he looked into her eyes.

“I shall do what needs doing,” he said.

She put her hands on his face, tracing the features, thinking back to all the dawns he’d come home bloodied and limping, swollen and stiff. But lately he had kept to his schedule with the males, and not returned injured.

So she should have known it was time.

“Be safe?” she implored. “We need you.”

“I will come back unto you. Always.”

At that, he kissed her hard, and then he left through the chamber door. Before it closed behind him, she saw that the Brothers had lined up on either side of the stone corridor, each with a torch.

They bowed to her hellren as he walked out.

Alone …

Dropping her head into her hands, she knew that all she could do … was pray.





SEVENTY-ONE


As Wrath saw the first of his appointments, Beth snuck out into the kitchen and snagged a bowl of fresh strawberries that Fritz had bought for her at the local Hannaford.

Man, after the past number of months, she had gotten used to the spoiling—a benefit Bella had told her to enjoy, but which had taken some time to become chill with: Everyone had been, and was being, so kind, the Brothers and their mates, the staff, John Matthew, the Shadows. It was incredible.

Just like the pregnancy.

By some miracle, she was trending exactly like a normal human pregnancy, well into her eighth month and feeling great. She had plenty of stamina, no swollen ankles, no stretch marks, and a baby that did laps under her rib cage every time she ate. Especially if there was sugar involved.

It was nothing that she had prepared herself for.

Disasters? Shit yeah, she’d been all about them. After that initial shock at the doctor’s, she’d naturally gone right to the Internet and terrified herself stupid with all the different things that could go wrong. The one saving grace had been that, by that point, she’d already gotten herself out of that hairy first trimester when most miscarriages happened—although unfortunately, that needing that had kicked in was a wild card that she hadn’t been able to fully relax about for another month.

But, yeah, the worry had mostly passed now that she was pulling into the final four-week lap. And sure, labor was going to be a bitch—but no, she wasn’t going to try to white-knuckle it with a no-drug birth plan. And anytime she got a little rattly? She just reminded herself that millions upon millions of women and females had done this all before her.

What her birth plan did entail was iAm and Trez both being available at the drop of a hat for the next four weeks. Dr. Sam had promised to make herself free no matter the hour, day or night—a little commitment she suspected iAm had instilled with a mental sleight of hand.

He had worked a number of those, discreetly, of course.

And thus they’d been successful in keeping the race’s identity on the DL.

She was hoping that, like a lot of women, she went into labor at night, so Wrath could be a part of at least some of it. But they’d both agreed—even though it was going to kill him, her safety and the safety of the baby came first.

And that meant she was going to have to go to Dr. Sam—

“Are the berries to your liking, madam?” Fritz asked.

Looking across her father’s kitchen, she nodded. “They’re perfect.”

As the butler beamed like he’d won the lottery, she finished what was in the bowl and allowed him to take the thing from her.

Heading back out into the dining room, she was careful to make no noise as she went across to her padded seat.