The King (Black Dagger Brotherhood #12)(166)

In a hoarse voice, he said, “Welcome to my home.”

As John ducked under the sheet and stood behind Wrath, all he could think was, About f*cking time.

The seven workmen were all kneeling on one knee, their heads bowed, their eyes flipping up and down as if Wrath were the sun and they couldn’t stare at him for very long.

Then the King spoke, and the four simple words that came out of his mouth were transformative, the workmen looking up on a oner with … a kind of love.

Wrath made like he was glancing around. “So, how do you think this is going to go?”

The males glanced back and forth, and then the foreman, the guy who’d introduced the workers one by one while they were patted down, spoke.

“We’re going to take up the floor. And put down a new one.”

More looking back and forth—while Wrath just continued to swing his wraparounds left and right as if he were taking in the view.

“Are you…” The foreman cleared his throat as if he were pained. “Would you prefer another team?”

“What?”

“Have we displeased our lord in some way to bring you herein?”

“God, no. I was just curious. That’s all. I don’t know anything about construction.”

The foreman glanced at each of his males. “Well, that’s because it’s beneath you, my lord.”

Wrath laughed in a harsh burst. “The hell it is. It’s honest work. There’s no shame in that. So what are your names?”

The foreman’s eyes bugged like that was the last thing he’d expected. But then he rose from the floor and jacked up his tool belt. “I’m Elph. This is…” He whipped through the introductions quickly.

“You all have families?” Wrath asked.

“I got a daughter and a mate,” Elph said. “Although my first shellan died in childbirth.”

Wrath put his hand over his heart as if struck by something. “Oh, f*ck. I’m so sorry.”

The foreman blinked at the King. “I … thank you, my lord.”

“How long ago was it that you lost her?”

“Twelve years.” The male cleared his throat. “Twelve years, three months, seventeen days.”

“How’s your daughter?”

The foreman shrugged. Then shook his head. “She’s okay—”

The one in the back, who’d said the holy shit, spoke up. “She’s paralyzed. And she’s an angel.”

The glare he got from his superior was immediate—like the guy didn’t want Wrath bothered. “She’s fine,” he cut in.

“Paralyzed?” Wrath seemed to pale. “From the birthing?”

“Ah … yeah. She was injured. She was delivered without assistance. Other than me who was of sorry aid.”

“Where the f*ck was Havers?”

“We couldn’t get to the clinic.”

Wrath’s nose flared. “You’re lying to me.”

The foreman’s brows lifted in shock. “It was no one’s fault, my lord. Except for mine.”

“I thought you were in construction. Or did you go to medical school?”

“I did not.”

“So how was it your fault?” Wrath shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry. Look, I’m glad your daughter survived.”

“It is my biggest blessing, my lord.”

“No doubt. And I know you have to miss your mate like hell.”

“Every night. All day. Although my second shellan keeps me going.”

Wrath nodded like he knew exactly where the male was at. “I get that. I so totally get that. Something similiar happened to my brother, Tohr.”

There was a long pause. Then the foreman said slowly, “I don’t know what else to say, my lord. Other than you have honored us greatly with your presence.”

“You don’t have to say anything. And I should leave you guys alone. I’m taking up your time.” Wrath lifted his dagger hand in a casual wave. “Later.”

As the plastic sheeting fell back into place behind the King, the workmen were speechless.

“Is he always like that?” the foreman asked numbly.

Rhage nodded. “He truly is a male of worth.”

“I didn’t think he would be … like that.”

“Like what?”

“So approachable.”

“Based on what?”

“The rumors. They say he’s aloof. Untouchable. Uninterested in people like us.” The foreman shook himself like he couldn’t believe he’d said that aloud. “What I mean is—”

“Nah, you’re good. I can imagine where that comes from.”

“He looks like his father,” the older one in the back said. “Spitting image.”

“You knew him? Wrath’s dad, that is?” Rhage asked.

The older male nodded. “And I saw the two of them together once. Wrath the younger was five. He always stood beside his father when the King had audiences with the commoners. I had a property dispute with my landlord who was in the glymera. The King took care of me over that aristocrat, I tell you.” An air of sadness overcame the male’s entire aura. “I remember when the King and queen were killed. We were certain the heir had been slaughtered as well—by the time we learned otherwise … this Wrath was gone.”