The King (Black Dagger Brotherhood #12)(154)
Author: J.R. Ward

Dearest Virgin Scribe, was she really—

Down at the base of the rise, a figure presented itself out of thin air—and as the breeze shifted directions, she caught the scent.

It was him. And … something else? Some kind of fragrance that was at once masculine … and delicious.

Xcor took a long time to approach, his strides even and unhurried as he mounted the hill and came up to her, carrying something under his arm. Her body responded instantly to his presence, her heart racing, her palms sweating, her breath going short.

She told herself it was fear. And overwhelmingly, that was true. But there was something else …

His clothes were different, she realized as he arrived before her. More refined. Attractive.

As if mayhap he had dressed for her?

Trying to relieve the burning in her lungs, she inhaled deeply and frowned. “You smell … different.”

“Bad?”

She shook her head. “No. Not at all. And your clothes … you look very well.”

He made no response and his face gave nothing away—so she could not draw any conclusion.

Silence stretched out. Until she couldn’t stand it anymore. “Well …?”

At least he didn’t pretend to misread her prompting. “I have thought over everything that you have offered me.”

And now her heart beat so loud, she could barely hear his deep voice.

“What say you?” she demanded in a hoarse voice.

“I agree to your terms.”

It was what she had expected. And yet even still, she began to shake uncontrollably.

“In exchange for the use of you, I shall call off all of my efforts with regard to the throne.”

At least there was solace to be had in that, except then she knew she had to live up to her end of the bargain.

“Worry not,” he said gruffly. “It shall not be this eve.”

Her relief came out in a very loud exhale—that made his face darken.

“Your reprieve is not indefinite.” He took what he carried out from under his arm. “You will give me what I want sooner or later.”

With a quick flap, he shook free what proved to be a blanket and laid it flat upon the ground.

Staring down at it, Layla didn’t know what to do.

“Sit,” he commanded. “And put this around you.”

As she complied and was handed another wrap, she wondered what he was going to—

Xcor sat beside her and wrapped his arms around his knees. Staring ahead, his expression was inscrutable.

Taking his cue, she did the same. Even mirroring his pose.

At least she had saved Wrath. And provided her young was safe, she would continue to do whatever she had to for her King.

No matter what it cost.

SIXTY-SEVEN

The following evening, Beth lay back in her mated bed and held an extraordinary piece of cloth in her hands. “This was made by someone?”

“Yeah, the foreman’s shellan.”

Squinting, she tried to imagine how the incredibly fine and even weave could have been done by anything other than a machine. “It’s totally amazing.”

“I told them we’d use it for our son when he’s born.”

With a wince, she tried to ignore the spear of pure terror that shot through her. Wrath, who’d been panicked about the whole birthing thing before they’d conceived, seemed to be forgetting about that part for the moment. Her, on the other hand? More than making up the slack.

“Yes, of course,” she murmured. “I love the color.”

“I just had to do something for the two of them. He’s a good guy. I didn’t expect anything in return…”

As Wrath walked out of the closet, he was dressed in his uniform, and she had to take a second to admire the view. His hair was swinging loose, almost to his tight ass. His magnificent arms were showing every muscle they had, thanks to the wife beater. And those leather pants …

“So I guess she’d worked on that for a year—”

“Are you ever going to have sex with me again? Or do I have to wait five months?”

Stopped. Dead.

But at least she knew her husband was paying attention. “Come on, Wrath. Like I said yesterday, I’m pregnant, not broken.”

“Ah…”

She stared at his hips, watching his arousal take shape, wanting that long, hard erection of his.

“Well, at least I know you want me,” she murmured.

“Don’t ever doubt that.”

“So how ’bout now. Because you look … very fine.” Her eyes did another up-and-down. “Did you get bigger all of a sudden? I mean, is that a baseball bat in your pocket or are you just glad to see me? Come over here and let me sample your goods, big guy.”

He let his head fall back. “Beth…”

“Whaaaaaaat. What’s the problem—look, we gotta talk about this. This abstinence thing is not good for you and me.”

“My son’s in there, okay? And it just—it doesn’t seem … right.”

Beth didn’t mean to laugh, but she couldn’t stop herself. “I’m sorry.” She put her hands up as he frowned like he was pissed. “Honestly, I’m not making fun of you.”

“Oh, really.”

“Come here.” She held her arms out. “And no, I’m not going to seduce you. Scout’s honor.”

He walked over in his bare feet, his black socks hanging from his deft hands. It seemed ludicrous to sit the King of the vampires down and give him a pep talk—especially when he was built the way he was. But she was going to go nuts if she couldn’t have that sexual connection. And so was he.

“I’d like to be with you,” she said, “but only if you’re comfortable with it. It’s not going to hurt the baby—you can call the doctor and ask her yourself. Or talk to Z—he and Bella were together while she was pregnant. She told me so. Talk to whoever you need to, but please rethink where you’re at. Being with you has to have a place in all this.”

As he cracked his knuckles like he was considering things, she stared at the tattoos that ran up his inner forearms.

She tried to imagine a son of hers with a set of those and reached out, turning one of his hands over so she could run her fingertips across the symbols.

“Will he get these, too?” So many names, she thought. “Or because I’m his mother, is he not allowed—”

“Fuck that shit. He can abso get them—and I’ll have V do it. But only if he wants them.”