Black Dagger Brotherhood 11 - Lover at Last (46 page)

was a strobe-light effect of bright, dark, bright, dark. Every time the illumination made an appearance, it looked like his brother had a halo around his whole body.

Trez cursed. “I just need them to leave me alone.”

“I know.” iAm rubbed his head. “And I honestly don’t know what the fuck to do about it. I can’t

imagine living without you, and I don’t want to go back there, either. I’m not coming up with any other options, though.”

“Those women…you know, the ones I…” Trez hesitated. “Don’t you think they’d get me off?”

“If they aren’t,” iAm said dryly, “I can’t see why you’re bothering with them.”

Trez had to smile a little. “No, I mean with the s’Hisbe. I’m as far from a virgin as you can get at this point.” Although at least he hadn’t sunk to farm animal level. “And what’s worse? They’ve all

been UKs—mostly humans, too. That has to nasty them out. We’re talking about the queen’s

daughter.”

As iAm frowned like he hadn’t fully considered the idea, Trez felt a ray of hope.

“I don’t know,” came the response. “Maybe that would work—but you’ve still cheated Her

Majesty out of what she wants and needs. If they consider you compromised, they might just decide to kill you as a punishment.”

Whatever. They’d have to bring him down first.

On a wave of aggression, Trez dipped his chin and glared out from beneath his brows. “If that’s

the case, they’ll have to fight me. And I guarantee that won’t go well for them.”

Back at the Brotherhood mansion, Wrath knew that his queen was upset the moment she came through

the doors of his study. Her luscious scent was tinged with a sharp, acidic overhang: anxiety.

“What is it,
leelan
?” he demanded, holding out his arms.

Even though he couldn’t see, his memories provided him with a mental picture of her crossing the

Aubusson rug, her long, athletic body moving with grace, her dark hair loose over her shoulders, her beautiful face marked with tension.

Naturally, the bonded male in him wanted to hunt down and kill whatever had upset her.

“Hi, George,” she said to his dog. Going by the
thump-thump-thump
on the floor, the retriever got some love first.

And then it was the master’s turn.

Beth climbed right up onto Wrath’s lap, her weight next to nothing, her body warm and alive as he

wrapped his arms around her and kissed her on either side of the neck and then on the mouth.

“Jesus,” he growled, feeling the stiffness in her body, “you really are upset. What the fuck is going on?”

Goddamn it, she was shivering. His queen was actually trembling.

“Talk to me,
leelan
,” he said as he rubbed her back. And prepared to get armed and head out into broad fucking daylight if he had to.

“Well, you know about Layla,” she said in a rough voice.

Ahhhhh. “Yeah, I do. Phury told me.”

As her head shifted onto his shoulder, he repositioned her, holding her cradled against his chest

—and it was good. There were times—not often, but every once in a while—when he felt like less of

a male because of his lack of sight: Once a fighter, he was now stuck behind this desk. Once free to roam wherever he wanted, he now relied on a canine for navigation. Once utterly self-sufficient, he now needed help.

Not exactly good for a male’s ball sac.

But in a moment like this, when this amazing female was off-kilter and seeking him and only him

for comfort and reassurance, he felt strong as a motherfucking mountain. After all, bonded males

protected their mates with everything they had, and even with the burden of his birthright and this throne he was obligated to sit on, he remained at his core a
hellren
to this female.

She was his first priority, even above the king shit. His Beth was the heart behind his ribs, the

marrow in his bones, the soul in his physical body.

“It’s just so sad,” she said. “So damned sad.”

“You’ve been to see her?”

“Just now. She’s resting. I mean…on some level, I can’t believe there’s nothing that can be done.”

“You talk to Doc Jane?”

“As soon as they all got back from the clinic.”

As his
shellan
cried a little, the fresh-rain scent of his beloved’s tears was like a knife in the chest—and he was not surprised at her reaction. He’d heard that females dealt with the loss of

another’s pregnancy badly—then again, how could they not relate? He sure as shit could put himself

in Qhuinn’s boots.

And oh, God…the idea of Beth suffering like that? Or worse, if she were to carry to term and—

Great. Now he had a case of the quakes.

Wrath put his face in his Beth’s hair, breathing in, calming himself. The good news was that they

were never going to have young, so he wouldn’t have to worry about that.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Me, too. I hate this for both of them.”

Well, actually, he was apologizing for something else entirely.

It wasn’t that he wanted anything shitty to happen to Qhuinn or Layla or their young. But maybe if

Beth saw this sad reality, she’d be reminded of all the risks that presented themselves every step of the way when it came to pregnancy.

Fuck. That sounded horrible. That
was
horrible. For chrissakes, he honestly didn’t want this for Qhuinn, and he really didn’t want his
shellan
upset, either. Unfortunately, however, the sad truth was that he had absolutely no interest in placing his seed within her like that—
ever
.

And that kind of desperation made a guy think unforgivable things.

In a surge of paranoia, he mentally calculated the number of years since her transition—just over

two. From what he understood, the average vampire female had her first needing about five years

after the change, and then every ten years or so thereafter. So by all accounts, they had some time before they had to worry about all this….

Then again, as a half-breed, there was no way to be sure in Beth’s case. When humans and

vampires mixed, anything could happen—and he did have some reason to be conerned. She had, after

all, mentioned kids once or twice before.

But surely that had to be in the hypothetical.

“So are you going to hold off on Qhuinn’s induction?” she said.

“Yeah. Saxton is done updating the laws, but with Layla being where she’s at? Not the right time

to bring him into the Brotherhood.”

“That’s what I thought.”

The two of them fell silent, and as Wrath took the moment to heart, he couldn’t possibly imagine

his life without her.

“Do you know something?” he said.

“What?” There was a smile in her voice, the kind that told him she had a clue about what he was

going to say.

“I love you more than anything.”

His queen laughed a little, and stroked his face. “I would never have guessed.”

Hell, even he caught the surge of his bonding scent.

In response, Wrath cupped her face and leaned in, finding her lips and taking them in a soft kiss—

that didn’t stay that way. Man, it was always like this with her. Any contact at all and before he knew it, he was hard and ready.

God, he didn’t know how human men handled it. From what he understood, they had to wonder

whether their mates were fertile every single damn time they had sex—evidently, they couldn’t pick

up on the subtle changes of their females’ scents.

He’d go fucking insane. At least when a female vampire was in her needing, everyone knew it.

Beth shifted in his lap, compressing his hard-on, making him groan. And usually, this was the cue

for George to be led across to the double doors and temporarily banished. But not tonight. As much as Wrath wanted her, the pall in the house was putting a damper on even his libido.

And then there was Autumn’s needing. Now Layla’s.

He wasn’t going to lie; the shit was making him tetchy. Hormones in the air had been known to

have a ricochet effect in a house full of females, influencing one and then another and then a third into her needing, assuming she was fairly close to her time.

Wrath stroked Beth’s hair and retucked his queen’s head into his shoulder.

“You don’t want to…”

As she let the sentence drift, he took her hand and lifted it up, feeling the heavy Saturnine Ruby

that the queen of the race had always worn.

“I just want to hold you,” he said. “It’s enough for me right now.”

Nestling in, she fit herself even more closely to him. “Well, this is nice, too.”

Yeah. It was.

And curiously terrifying.

“Wrath?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

It was a little while before he could answer, before he trusted his voice to be calm, and level, and no BFD. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Just fine.”

As he smoothed her arm, running his hand up and down her biceps, he prayed that she believed

it…and vowed that what was happening just one door down the hall would never, ever happen to

them.

Nope. That crisis was not anything the pair of them were going to have to deal with.

Thanks be to the Scribe Virgin.

FORTY-TWO

Layla wasn’t sleeping, of course.

When she’d told Qhuinn to go, she had meant the things she’d said about not wanting to

keep up a front with him around. But the funny thing was, even with nobody in the room with

her, she didn’t get hysterical. No tears. No cursing.

She just lay on her side with her arms and legs curled up, her mind receding deep into her body,

the constant monitoring of every ache and cramp a compulsion that was making her crazy. There was

no changing that, however. It was as if some part of her was convinced that if she could only know

what stage she was in, she could somehow have some control over the process.

Which was, of course, bullshit. As Qhuinn would say.

The image of him in the clinic, with his dagger at the healer’s throat, was like something out of

one of the books in the Sanctuary’s library—a dramatic episode that was part of someone else’s life.

Her vantage point on the bed, however, reminded her that that was not the case….

The knock on her door was soft, which suggested it was a female.

Layla closed her eyes. As much as she appreciated whatever kindness was awaiting a response,

she would have so much preferred that whoever it was stayed out in the hall. The queen’s brief visit had been taxing, even though she’d appreciated it.

“Yes.” When her voice didn’t carry farther than her own ears, she cleared her throat. “Yes?”

The door opened, and at first she didn’t recognize who it was from the shadow that filled the

space between the jambs. Tall. Strong. Not a male, though…

“Payne?” she said.

“May I come in?”

“Yes, of course.”

As Layla went to sit up, the warrior female motioned her to lie down, and then shut them both in

together. “No, no, please…be at ease.”

One lamp had been left on over at the bureau, and in the gentle light, the blooded sister of the

Black Dagger Brother Vishous was quite fearsome, her diamond eyes seeming to sparkle out of the

strong angles of her face.

“How ever are you?” the female asked softly.

“I am very well, thank you. And yourself?”

The fighter came forward. “I’m very sorry about…your condition.”

Oh, how Layla wished this was something Phury or the others had not shared with anyone. Then

again, her exit from the house had been rather dramatic, the sort of thing that would be cause for

concerned questioning. Still, her privacy would have had her avoid this unwelcome, though

compassionate, intrusion.

“I thank you for your kind words,” she whispered.

“May I sit down?”

“But of course.”

She expected the female to rest upon one of the chairs that had been arranged with a sense of

decorum. Payne did not. She came over to the bed and lowered her weight beside Layla.