At the sound of that deep voice, she collapsed on the bed, squeezing the phone in her fist, pushing it into her ear as if she could bring her man to her.

“Hi.” Closing her eyes, she didn’t bother fighting the tears. She let them fall. “Hi.”

His voice was as rough as hers was. “Hi.”

There was a long silence, and that was okay: Even though he was at home and she was here, it was as if they were holding each other.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m really sorry.”

She let out a sob. “Thank you…”

“I’m sorry.” He laughed a little. “I’m not real articulate, am I?”

“It’s okay. I’m not feeling very with it, either … I was just dreaming of you, I think.”

“A nightmare?”

“No. Missing you.”

“I don’t deserve it. I was afraid to call your cell in case you didn’t answer it. I thought maybe if someone was with you, they might pick up and … yeah, I’m sorry.”

Beth exhaled and leaned back against the pillows. Crossing her legs at the ankles, she looked around at the pictures of her. “I’m in his bedroom.”

“You are?”

“There isn’t a phone in the one you used.”

“God, it’s been a long time since I’ve been to that house.”

“I know, right? It brings up a lot.”

“I’ll bet.”

“How’s George?”

“Missing you.” There was a muffled thump—the sound of him patting the dog’s flank. “He’s right here with me.”

The good news was that the neutral subjects were the perfect way to dip their toes in the relating pool. But the larger discussion still loomed.

“So John’s head’s okay,” she said, picking at the bottom of her shirt. “But I guess you’ve already heard everything went all right at the medical center.”

“Oh, yeah, no. Actually, I’ve been … kind of out of it.”

“I called.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. Tohr said you were sleeping. Did you finally get some rest?”

“Ah … yeah.”

As he fell quiet, the second silence was the preparation kind, the countdown to the real stuff. And yet she wasn’t sure how to bring it all up, what to say, how to—

“I don’t know if I’ve ever told you much about my parents,” Wrath said. “Other than how they were…”

Killed, she finished for him in her mind.

“They were a match made in heaven, to use a human term. I mean, even though I was young, I remember them together, and the truth is, I figured, when they died, that kind of thing was over with them. Like they were a once-in-a-millennium kind of love or something. But then I met you.”

Beth’s tears were hot as they continued to laze their way down her cheeks, some dropping off softly onto the pillow, others finding her ear. Reaching out, she snagged a Kleenex and mopped up without making a sound.

But he knew she was crying. He had to know.

Wrath’s voice became thin, like he was having trouble keeping it together. “When I got shot that night a couple of months ago, and Tohr and I were hauling ass back from Assail’s house, I wasn’t afraid I was dying or anything. Sure, I knew the wound was bad, but I’ve been in a lot of bad shit before—and I was going to get through it … because no one and nothing was going to take me away from you.”

Bracing the phone on her shoulder, she folded the wet tissue in precise little squares. “Oh, Wrath…”

“When it comes to you having a young…” His voice cracked. “I … I … I … oh for shit’s sake, I keep trying to find the words, but I just don’t have them, Beth. I simply don’t. I know you want to try, I get that. But you haven’t spent four hundred years seeing and hearing about how vampire females die on the birthing bed. I can’t—like, I can’t get that out of my head, you know? And the problem is, I’m a bonded male, so while I’d like to give you what you want? There’s a side of me that isn’t going to listen to reason. It just isn’t—not when it comes to risking your life. I wish I were different because this is killing me, but I can’t change where I’m at.”

Leaning to the side, she pulled another tissue out of the box. “But there’s modern medicine now. We have Doc Jane and—”

“Plus what if the kid’s blind. What if they have my eyes?”

“I will love him or her no less, I can assure you of that.”

“Ask yourself what we’re exposing them to genetically, though. I manage to get along in life, sure. But if you think for an instant I don’t miss my sight every day? I wake up next to the female I love and I can’t see your eyes in the evening. I don’t know what you look like when you dress up for me. I can’t watch your body when I’m inside of you—”

“Wrath, you do so much—”

“And the worst of it? I can’t protect you. I don’t even leave the house—and that’s as much about my fucking job as it is the blindness—oh, and don’t kid yourself. Legally, if we have a male young, he’s going to succeed me. He will not have a choice—just like I didn’t and I hate where I’m at. I hate every night of my life—Jesus Christ, Beth, I hate getting out of bed, I hate that fucking desk, I hate the proclamations and the bullshit and being penned in the cocksucking house. I hate it.”

God, she’d known he wasn’t happy, but she’d had no idea it went this deep.

Then again, when was the last time they’d actually talked like this? The nightly grind coupled with the stress of the Band of Bastards and their bullshit …

“I didn’t know.” She sighed. “I mean, I was aware that you were unhappy, but…”

“I don’t like talking about it. I don’t want you worrying about me.”

“But I do anyway. I know you’ve been stressed—and I wish I could help in some way.”

“That’s my point. There’s no help for it, Beth. There’s nothing anyone can do—and even if I had perfect eyesight and the risks of pregnancy were no BFD? I still wouldn’t want to dump this shit on the next generation. It’s a cruelty I wouldn’t do to someone I hate, much less my own fucking child.” He laughed harshly. “Hell, I should let Xcor have the goddamn throne. Serve him right.”

Beth shook her head. “All I want is for you to be happy.” Actually, that wasn’t true. “But I can’t lie. I love you, and yet I still…”

Boy, did she get an idea of how he felt about the no-words thing.

He’d found a way to talk, though.

“I almost can’t explain it.” She curled a fist over her heart. “It’s like this emptiness in the center of my chest. It has nothing to do with you or how I feel about you. It’s inside of me—it’s like a switch got flipped, you know? And I wish I could be more articulate than that, but it’s hard to describe. I didn’t even know what it was … until one of those nights, when Z took Bella down to our place in Manhattan and I babysat? I was hanging out in that suite of theirs, with Nalla asleep in my lap, and I just kept looking at all of the stuff they had in their room. The changing table, the mobiles, that crib … all the wipes and the bottles and the pacis. And I just thought … I want this. All of it. The Diaper Genie, and the rubber ducks, and the late days. The poop and the sweet bath-time smell, the crying and the cooing, the clichéd pink and the robin’s-egg blue—whatever we get. And listen, I sat on it. I really did. It was such a shock that I thought—it’s a mood, a phase, a rose-colored delusion I was going to snap out of.”

“When did you…” He cleared his throat. “How long ago was this?”

“Over a year.”

“Damn…”

“Like I said, I’ve felt like this for a while. And I thought you’d change your mind. I knew it wasn’t a priority for you.” She was trying to be diplomatic on that one. “I thought … well, now that I’m saying it, I realize I never did talk to you about where I was at. There just hasn’t been time.”

“I’m sorry. I know I already apologized, but … goddamn it.”

“It’s all right.” She closed her eyes. “And I know where you’re coming from. It’s not like I haven’t seen you every night looking like you wanted to be anywhere else but where you were.”

There was another long silence.