The King (Black Dagger Brotherhood #12)(130)

For truth, lack of knowledge of that female’s existence, of her scent and the taste of her blood, of those shattering, stolen moments in that car, would have been such a boon to him.

Instead, it was as if he had taken a saw to his own leg and cut it off.

He had unwittingly volunteered to cross her path.

Staring at the edge of the mist, he braced himself and crossed into the barrier. His skin registered an instant warning, his inner instincts activated by the force field, teased by a rootless feeling of terror. Proceeding forth, his boots crunched through the ground cover, only a slight rise informing him that he was, in fact, beginning the ascent up the mountain.

In this moment of triumph, the only place he wanted to be was with the female he could not have.





FORTY-TWO


Generally speaking, if your husband refused to say a word until the pair of you were behind closed doors and alone?

Shit was not going well.

As Beth heard the double doors of the study shut behind them, she went over to the banked fire and put her palms out to the heat. She was suddenly feeling very cold … especially as Wrath did not go behind the desk and sit down on his father’s throne.

Her hellren settled into one of the two French-blue sofas, and the effeminate little thing let out a very unlady-like protest as his weight landed.

George settled at his master’s feet, the dog staring up as if he, too, were waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Wrath just stared straight ahead even though he couldn’t see a thing, his brow tight behind the bridge of his wraparounds, his aura black as his hair.

Turning, she backed her butt into the heat source and crossed her arms. “You’re scaring me.”

Silence.

“Why aren’t you sitting behind the desk,” she said roughly.

“It’s not mine anymore.”

Beth felt all the blood leave her head. “What are you … I’m sorry, what?”

Wrath took off his sunglasses and braced an elbow on his knee as he rubbed his eyes. “The Council has removed me.”

“What the … f*ck. How? What did they do?”

“It doesn’t matter. But they got me.” He laughed in a short burst. “Listen, at least now all that paperwork over there? Not my problem. They can govern themselves—have a ball infighting and arguing about stupid bullshit—”

“What were the grounds?”

“You know what’s really f*cked-up? I hated doing the job, and yet now that it’s gone…” He rubbed his face again. “Anyway.”

“I don’t get it. You’re the King by blood and the race is ruled by the monarchy. How did they do this?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Beth narrowed her stare. “What are you not telling me?”

He burst up and walked around, having memorized the furniture layout long ago. “This’ll give us more time together. Not a bad thing, especially if you’re pregnant. And hell, if you have a young now, part of what I was all up in my head about is a non-issue—”

“I’m going to find out, you realize. If you don’t tell me, I’ll get someone who will.”

Wrath went over to the desk and ran his hands down the carved edges. Then he fingered the top of the throne, caressing the ins and outs of the wood.

“Wrath. Talk. Now.”

Even with her laying it down like that, it was a long while before he spoke. And when he finally did, his reply was nothing she expected … and as devastating as any piece of it all.

“They based it on … you.”

Okay, time to have a little sit-down.

Going to the same sofa he’d sat in, she all but fell into the soft cushions. “Why? How? What did I do?”

God, the idea that she’d cost him the throne because of something she’d—

“It’s not anything you’ve done. It’s … who you are.”

“That’s ridiculous! They don’t even know me.”

“You’re half-human.”

Well, that shut her up.

Wrath came over and knelt down in front of her. Taking her hands, he held them in his so-much-larger palms. “Listen to me, and you have to be clear on this—I love you, all of you, each and every part of you. You are perfect in every way—”

“Except for the fact that my mother was human.”

“That’s their f*cking problem,” he snapped. “I don’t give a f*ck about their goddamn prejudice. It doesn’t affect me at all—”

“Noooooot exactly true, is it. Because of me you’re not sitting on that throne anymore, right?”

“You know what? The shit’s not worth it to me. You’re what’s important. You’re what matters. Everything else—everyone else can f*ck off.”

She glanced over at the throne. “You mean to tell me you don’t care that your father’s seat is no longer your own?”

“I hated the job.”

“That’s not my point.”

“The past is the past and my parents have been dead for centuries.”

She shook her head. “Does that really matter, though. I know why you stuck with it all—it’s for them. Don’t lie to me—more important, don’t lie to yourself.”