The King(165)

In recognition of my failure, I have resigned from the Council. I will continue working with the commoners, as they need a champion—and although I am sorely remiss in that role, I must try to do some good in this world or I shan’t be able to e’er sleep again.
I wish I had done more for you. You and your shellan shall be in my thoughts and prayers.
This is all so wrong.
Sincerely, Abalone, son of Abalone
What a lovely guy, Beth thought as she got out of Outlook. And he probably needed to ditch the guilt. Given the aristocracy’s steamroller approach to everything, he hadn’t stood a damn chance.
The glymera had ways of ruining lives that had nothing to do with coffins.
Checking the clock on the wall, she figured Wrath would be along any minute. And then they would … well, she had no clue. Usually at this time, they were heading up to bed, but that didn’t hold any appeal.
Maybe they could switch bedrooms today. She didn’t think she could handle even seeing that bejeweled suite of rooms.
Idly heading over to Internet Explorer, she stared at the Google screen, shaking her head at the I’m feeling lucky line.
Yeah. Right.
God, if only V didn’t hate everything about the Apple company, she could have had an iPhone in her hand and asked Siri what to do.
She so appreciated Wrath standing by their marriage, but jeez …
For absolutely no reason, that scene from The Princess Bride flashed through her mind—the one where they were getting married at the altar in front of that priest.
Meeeewidge, a dweam wifin a dweam—
Beth froze.
Then typed fast and hit that frickin’ lucky button.
What came up was—
“Hey, you ready to head up?”
Beth slowly lifted her eyes to her husband. “I know what we have to do.”
Wrath recoiled like someone had dropped a piano on his foot. And then promptly looked like his head was pounding. “Beth. For the love of fucking God—”
“Do you love me, all of me?”
He let his huge body fall back against the office’s glass door as George curled in for a lie-down—like he expected this to be another long one. “Beth—”
“Well, do you?”
“Yes,” her hellren groaned.
“All of me, human and vampire.”
“Yes.”
“And you don’t discriminate one side versus the other, right?”
“No.”
“So it’s like Christmas. I mean, you don’t celebrate the holiday, but because it’s what Butch and I are used to, you, like, let us put up Christmas trees and decorations, and now everyone in the household does the present thing, right?”
“Right,” he muttered.
“And when it comes to the winter solstice, I mean, if you were going to ever do one of those balls, you wouldn’t think it was any more or less important or significant than Christmas, right.”
“Right.” This was spoken in a tone that suggested in his head, he was answering the question, If I put the gun right here, and pulled the trigger, I could get myself out of this misery, right?
“No difference. At all.”
“None. Can we stop now?”
“My beliefs, my customs, just as important as yours, no difference, right?”
“Right.”
“At all.”
“Right.”
She burst up from the computer. “Meet me in the front foyer in two hours. Wear something nice.”
“What—what the fuck are you doing?”
“Something we’d talked about a while ago and never followed through on.”
“Beth, what’s going on?”
“Nothing.” She ran for the closet so she could get into the tunnel ahead of him. “Everything.”
“Why aren’t you telling me?”
She hesitated before disappearing. “Because I’m afraid you’ll argue with me. Two hours. The foyer.”
As she bolted out the hidden panel, she heard her hellren cursing, but she didn’t have any time to go into this with her man.
She had to find Lassiter. And John Matthew.
Now.
Selena experienced her first true lockup that morning.
Sitting at the kitchen table of Rehvenge’s great camp, she was nursing a cup of coffee and a homemade scone when her mind began to agitate over the King’s fate, Trez’s kisses, iAm’s hard stare, her own uncertain future …
Most especially Trez’s kisses.
She hadn’t seen him in public or private since they’d left that bathroom and proceeded downstairs to find his brother in the kitchen.
She was kind of glad.
The unfinished business between them—the sexual unfinished business—was too intense for her right now. When she’d been in the moment, it had all seemed so natural, so predestined even—but with a clear head and wide-open eyes in the aftermath, she wondered what she had been thinking.