The King (Black Dagger Brotherhood #12)(197)

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.

Wrath was sitting in the armchair he favored, the one on the left, the one that Saxton’s desk was behind. Across from him, in the matching chair, a male was sitting with his hands clasped hard on his knees, his shoulders hunched, his face gray. The clothes he was wearing were not fancy, just the kind of stuff you could get at Target, and his watch was nothing like a Rolex, just a matte black rubber–strapped one.

Wrath leaned forward and offered his palm. “What happened?”

The male rocked back and forth in the chair. “She…” All at once he looked at Beth, his face blanching even further.

As she stiffened, she put her hand over her belly.

Oh … hell.

“Talk to me,” Wrath said in a low voice.

“She…” At this point, the male began to whisper so softly that nothing carried.

But it was clear Wrath understood every word. And as she watched her husband’s hands clench, those forearms bunching up, she knew what it was about.

Deaths. From childbearing.

She had heard for so long about how the vampire race suffered on the birthing bed, as they called it, but she’d had no true appreciation for their losses before. Doing this with the commoners now? She was routinely horrified.

So many dead. Mothers and children.

Just as her own mom had died.

It was a tragedy that medical science couldn’t seem to make much of a dent in. Say what you would about Havers: He had a clinic outfitted with all kinds of modern technology, and yet bad things happened. Seemingly all the time.

Wrath reached out his great arms and put his hands on the male’s shoulders. He spoke softly as well, but whatever he was saying, the husband who had lost everything was nodding.

They stayed like that for a very long time.

When the meeting was finally over, the two of them stood up and embraced, the civilian so much smaller than her husband.

Before the male left, he kissed Wrath’s ring.

Abalone escorted the commoner out, talking quietly with him, as Wrath slowly lowered himself back down. His brows were tight, his mouth a grim line.