The particular image she was looking for was by the alarm clock.

It was the only one of her mother, and yup … just a quick glance at the woman and she was reminded of where she’d gotten her thick black hair and the shape of her face and the set of her shoulders.

Her mother.

What kind of life had the woman lived? How had Darius come to her? From what Wrath had said back in the beginning, the pair of them hadn’t been together for very long before she’d found out what Darius really was—and bolted fast. It wasn’t until she’d discovered she was pregnant that she’d gone back to see him, scared of what she was bringing into the world.

She had died in childbirth.

And Darius had stayed on the sidelines after that, hoping that their daughter wouldn’t take after the vampire side of things.

Some half-breeds never went through the change. Some didn’t survive the transition. And those who did make it through and came out the other side as vampires were subject to different, unpredictable biological rules. Beth, for example, could go out in the daylight as long as she wore sunscreen and sunglasses. Butch, on the other hand, couldn’t dematerialize.

So God only knew about the pregnancy stuff. But if she was lucky, she would go into her needing and Wrath would somehow come around and she’d give birth to …

Well, then again, that was how her mother had died, wasn’t it.

“Crap.”

Sitting down on the mattress, she put her head in her hands. Maybe Wrath had a point. Maybe the whole conception thing really was too dangerous to mess around with. But that didn’t excuse the way he’d treated her, and it didn’t end the discussion.

Christ, as she sat down here, surrounded by pictures Darius had had taken of her, she was even more convinced she wanted a child.

Dropping her arms, she took out her BlackBerry, put her password in, and checked to see if any messages had come through that she hadn’t heard. Nope. Turning the thing over and over in her hands, she idly wished it was an iPhone. V, however, was not just anti-Apple; he was convinced Steve Jobs’s legacy was the root of all evil in the world …

Sometimes couples did better over the phone.

And whereas Wrath hadn’t played nice, that didn’t mean she had to follow the example. If she intended to have some space for the next twelve hours or so, she really needed to pay him the courtesy of telling him herself—not use her brother as a messenger.

The trouble was Wrath didn’t have a cell phone anymore. No need for one—when he’d officially taken over the King duties, he’d been “retired” from the Brotherhood by custom, law, and common f-in’ sense. Not that it had kept him from getting shot.

There were plenty of phones at the mansion, however.

Six a.m. He was probably still working at his desk.

Dialing the digits, she listened to one ring. The next. A third.

There was no voice mail for Wrath anymore because the glymera had so totally abused the number they’d been given. Which was how he’d ended up with the e-mail account from hell.

The next number she tried was for the handset by their bed, the one that was so unpublished, she’d never actually heard it ring before. No answer.

She had several choices at this point. Training Center’s clinic—in case he was injured. But how would that happen? He didn’t leave the house anymore. Kitchen—except Last Meal was almost on the table and Wrath probably wasn’t going to be in all that chaos without her: Even though he’d never said so, she had the feeling that crowded, noisy rooms made him uncomfortable because his senses of hearing and smell got overloaded, making it difficult for him to place people in space.

There was only one other number to try.

As she got the person out of her contacts, another slice of the past came back to her.

She pictured Tohr coming in through the sliding glass door of her old apartment, the Brother looming large as any nightmare should. But he had been, and always was, an ally. That night that they’d shared Sam Adams and oatmeal cookies and Godzilla had been the start of a true friendship.

He was in such a different place now. Losing Wellsie. Finding Autumn.

And Beth wasn’t the same, either.

As the call went through, there was only one ring before things were answered: “Beth.”

She frowned at the odd tone in Tohr’s voice. “You okay?”

“Oh, yeah. Definitely. I’m glad you called.”

“Ah … why?” Had Wrath told the Brotherhood she wasn’t coming home? Probably not. “Never mind. I just … I’m looking for Wrath. Do you know where he is? I tried the study and our rooms and he didn’t pick up.”

“Oh, yeah. Definitely.”

WTF? “Tohr. What’s going on.”

As true fear took root in the center of her chest, her mind got away from her. What if—

“Nothing. Honest—well, we’ve got an unexpected VIP coming into the clinic, so I’m scrambling to get coverage.”

Ah, snap. She was being paranoid. Better than being right, though.

“As for Wrath, last I saw, he was…” There was a pause. Then a shuffle like the guy was switching the phone to his other ear. “He was taking a little breather.”

“Breather as in?”

“He was asleep.”

Beth felt her jaw hinge loosen. “Asleep?”

“Yeah. He was resting.”

“Really.”

Here she was, putting herself through the wringer, confused about what to think and feel, running their entire relationship backwards and forwards, planning conversations, tying herself in knots. Meanwhile, he was just, you know, pulling a siesta.

“Well, that’s great,” she heard herself say. “I’m really happy for him.”

“Beth—”

“Look, I have to go.” Yup, she was busy, busy, busy. “If he wakes up, tell him…”

No, not that she’d called. Men weren’t the only ones allowed to keep their pride; women didn’t have to be the “weaker sex.”

“Actually, I’ll tell him myself. I’ll be at my dad’s, cleaning things up today.” Yeah, ’cuz the house was such a mess. “But I’ll be back at nightfall.”

The honest relief coming through the line was striking. “Oh, that’s good news. I’m really glad.”

“Okay, well…” Somehow she couldn’t bring herself to hang up.

“Beth? You still there?”

“Yeah. I am.” She found herself rubbing her thigh up and down. “Listen, can I ask you something?”

“Sure. Please.”

After all, Wellsie and Tohr had had their arguments—some of which Beth had heard firsthand back before the beautiful redhead had been taken way too soon. Man, Wellsie had been unafraid to say exactly what she thought to anyone, including her hellren. She was never a hothead without a good reason, of course, but you hadn’t necessarily wanted to cross her if you didn’t have to.

People had respected her.

What did they think of me, Beth wondered.

“Beth?”

Certainly if there was anyone who could help her with Wrath, and keep it on the DL, it was Tohr. In fact, he was the one who usually got sent in when people needed help with their King.

“Beth, what’s going on?”

Opening her mouth, she intended to vent, but there was one problem: The person she needed to talk to was Wrath. Anyone else was just filler.

“Do you still root for the monster?”

There was a pause. And then the Brother laughed in his trademark baritone. “Are you telling me there’s another Godzilla marathon on?”

Beth was glad she was alone. Because she had a feeling the smile she was sporting was sadder than any tears.

She just wanted to go back to when things had been simpler. Easier. Closer.

“Just thinking about the good ol’ days,” she blurted.

Instantly, Tohr’s tone tightened. “Yeah. They were … good.”

Oh, shit. Even though he was in love with and mated to Autumn, it had to hurt to remember his first wife … and the baby she’d been carrying.

“I’m sorry, I—”

He recovered quicker than she did. “Don’t feel bad at all. The past is what it is—good and bad, it’s written and unchanging. And there’s solace to be had in that.”