“So I’m supposed to lie about how I feel?”
“No, but you can talk about it, for God’s sake. We’re partners and this affects us both.”
“Discussion is not going to change where I’m at. If you want to keep wasting time with the Chosen, that’s your decision. But if the gossip is true, and it does bring on your needing, know that you’ll be drugged to get you through it. I’m not going to service you.”
“Jesus … like I’m some kind of animal who needs to go to the vet?”
“You have no idea what those hormones are like.”
“This. Coming from a male.”
He shrugged. “It’s a verifiable fact of biology. When Layla was in hers, we all felt it throughout the house—even a night and a half after she was over it. Marissa was drugged for years. It’s what’s done.’”
“Yeah, maybe when a female isn’t married. But last time I checked, my name was in your back.”
“Just because you’re mated doesn’t mean you have to have children.”
She was silent for a time. “Does it not even occur to you for a second this might be important to me? And not as in, ‘Oh, I need a new car,’ or … ‘I want to go back to school.’ Or even, ‘How about we have a fucking date once in a while in between you getting shot at and doing a job you hate.’ Wrath, this is the foundation of life.”
And the gateway to death—for her. So many females died on the birthing bed, and if he lost her—
Fuck. He couldn’t even go there in the hypothetical. “I will not give you a young. I could doctor up the truth with a lot of meaningless bullshit and soothing words, but sooner or later, you are going to have to accept—”
“Accept it? Like I got sneezed on by someone with a cold and I just have to resign myself to coughing for a couple of days?” The astonishment in her voice rang out clear as that anger of hers. “Do you even hear yourself?”
“I’m really fucking aware of every word I choose. Trust me.”
“Okay. Fine. Why don’t we put the shoe on the other foot. How about I say … how about this—you’re going to give me the child I want, and that’s just something you’re going to have to get used to. Period.”
He shrugged again. “You can’t force me to be with you.”
As Beth gasped, he had some sense they’d entered a new dimension in their relationship—and not a good one. But there was no going back.
Cursing under his breath, he shook his head. “Do yourself a favor and stop sitting with that female for hours every night. If you’re lucky, it hasn’t worked and we can just forget about all this—”
“Forget about—wait. Are you—are you—have you lost your fucking mind?”
Shit. His shellan didn’t stutter or stumble, and she rarely swore. What a trifecta.
But it didn’t change anything. “When were you going to tell me?” he demanded.
“Tell you what? That you can be a real asshole? How about right now.”
“No, that you were deliberately trying to start your needing. Talk about things that affect us both.”
What would have happened if she’d suddenly gone into her time when they’d been alone together during the day? He might have given in and then …
Not good. Especially if he later found out she’d been marking time with the Chosen for specifically that purpose.
He glared at her. “Yeah, when exactly was that going to come up in conversation? It wasn’t going to tonight, right? Were you saving it for tomorrow? No?” He leaned into his desk. “You knew I didn’t want this. I told you so.”
More pacing: He could hear her every footfall. It was a while before they stopped.
“You know what, I’m going to leave right now,” she said, “and not just because I have to go out tonight. I need to not be around you for a while. And then, when I come back, we’re going to talk this through—both sides of the issue—no!” she ordered as he went to open his mouth. “You don’t say another goddamn word. If you do, I have a feeling I’ll be packing my bags and taking off permanently.”
“Where are you going?”
“Contrary to popular belief, you do not have a right to know where I am every second of the day and night. Especially after this diatribe.”
Cursing again, he popped his wraparounds off and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Beth, listen, I’m just—”
“Oh, I’ve listened to you quite enough for the time being. So do us both a favor and stay right where you are. At the rate you’re going, that desk and that hard chair are all you’re going to have, anyway. You might as well get used to them.”
He closed his mouth. Listened to her walk off. Heard the doors slam shut in her wake.
He was about to jump up and go after her, but then he remembered Doc Jane saying something about John Matthew’s MRI at that human hospital. Had to be where she was going—she’d said it was important for her to go with him.
Abruptly, he remembered the seizure, and what had gone down in the middle of it. He’d confronted Qhuinn afterward about what John had tried to communicate to Beth—if something was being said to his shellan, he was going to know the details, thank you very much.
I will keep you safe. I will take care of you.
Okay, file that under WTF. Normally, Wrath had no beef with John Matthew. In fact, he’d always liked the kid—to the point where it was kind of creepy how easily the mute fighter had entered all their lives—and stayed there.
Great solider. Good head on those shoulders. And the lack of a voice wasn’t a problem except for with Wrath because obviously he couldn’t see to read ASL.
Oh, and as for the blood test that said he was Darius’s son? The more time you spent around the kid, the more obvious the connection was there.
But he drew the motherfucking line when any male tried to come between him and his mate, blooded brother or not. He was the one who was going to keep Beth safe and cared for. Nobody else. And he would have confronted John afterward … except the oddest thing was, the kid didn’t seem to know what he’d said either: John wasn’t well versed in the Old Language enough to hold a conversation in it, and yet Blay and Qhuinn had both confirmed that that was what he’d appeared to be mouthing.
But whatever. John was going for some treatment, and on the Beth front, he was ultimately not going to be a problem. This baby stuff, however …
It was a long while before Wrath peeled his clawed hands free of the throne’s armrests, and as he fanned them out, the joints burned.
At the rate you’re going, that desk and that hard chair are all you’re going to have.
What a mess. But the bottom line, granite truth was … he just couldn’t lose her in pregnancy. And as bad as it was to have this rift between them, at least they were both still on the planet and going to stay that way: There was no way in hell he was going to voluntarily risk her life just for some hypothetical son or daughter—who, by the way, assuming they survived into adulthood, was liable to suffer under this royal legacy as much as he did.
And that was the other big part for him. He wasn’t in a hurry to condemn an innocent to all this King crap. It had ruined his life—and that was not an inheritance he wanted to share with someone he would undoubtedly love almost as much as his shellan—
Shifting in the throne, he looked down at himself—and frowned.
Even though he couldn’t see anything, he realized … he had an erection. A throbbing, straining arousal was pushing against the fly of his leathers.
As if it had somewhere to go. Like, now.
Putting his head in his hand, he knew exactly what that meant.
“Oh … God … no.”
“Would you like to feed?”
As the Chosen Selena waited for a response to her question, she did her best to ignore the fact that the incredible dark-skinned male in the bed before her was naked. He had to be. With the sheeting rolled down to his waist, his chest was bare, his chiseled pecs and his roped shoulders illuminated by the soft light in the corner.