The King (Black Dagger Brotherhood #12)(167)
Author: J.R. Ward

“I’m so happy to be retired,” Rehv cut in. “For real.”

Wrath looked in Beth’s direction. “It’s the best thing for us. For L.W. And who knows—maybe he’ll decide to run. But it will be his choice. Not a burden—and no one, from any segment of any society, will be able to tell him that the female he chooses isn’t worthy. Ever.”

At that, Wrath shoved his hand in the pocket of the black combat pants he was wearing … and took out a handful of … shavings?

No, they were fragments of parchment.

As he sprinkled them onto the floor, he said, “Oh, and I tore up that fake-ass divorce decree, too. Human ceremony’s absolutely legal. But I figure our son has two kinds of blood in him, and I wanted both traditions to count.”

Beth opened her mouth to say something. In the end, though, all she could do was step in against her husband’s hard body and hold on.

Naturally, there wasn’t a dry eye in the training center.

But that was what happened when an ordinary mortal … did something worthy of a superhero.

SEVENTY-SIX

It was a good month later when Wrath realized what V’s vision had been all about. The face in the heavens, the future in his hands …

L.W. was already on a schedule, sleeping during the day, up all night—which was just perfect. Beth had bounced back from the C-section like a rocket, feeding well, eating well, and being the best damn mother on the planet.

Talk about your total natural. She was incredible … and so happy, so damned happy.

The reality of having a son was better even than the dream had been.

And oh, yeah, L.W. was taking to the on-the-planet stuff like a total trooper. Eating, pooping, sleeping, pooping, eating. He rarely fussed or cried, and had no problem being passed around at meals so each member of the household got a chance to hold him.

Even the dog and the cat liked him. The kid slept in a crib in the First Family suite, and apparently, George and Boo both thought of it as a guard station. When the retriever wasn’t helping Wrath get around, he was right with the kid, lying in front of the damn thing, on guard twenty-four/seven. And when George was on duty with his other master? That feline was on shift as the baby slept.

So yup, it was on a blissfully normal night in June that Beth said she was going for a run after First Meal, and Wrath decided to take L.W. and his dog and the cat on a promenade around the first floor. The kid always seemed to like that, and as usual, the minute they started walking, his head began to crane around as if he were checking out the real estate.

They were in the library, going by the French doors, when L.W. let out a squawk and strained as if something had caught his eye.

“What is it, big man?”

Wrath repositioned his son—God, he loved that word, son—and then did the math.

“Is that the moon you’re looking at? Must be—yeah, I think it is.”

Unlatching the door, he opened the way out and took a deep breath. Summer was coming big time, the night warm as bathwater, and as L.W. stretched his arms up, Dads thought, yup. He was checking out the old man in the sky.

Or … the face.

With a feeling that reality was coalescing in some specific, magical way, Wrath turned his son upright and faced him outward.

Lifting him high.

Holding the future … in his hands.

As his son saw the moon for the very first time—with eyes that were as perfect as the rest of him.

“I’m going to give you everything I can,” Wrath said gruffly, glad no one else was around. “Anything you need, I shall provide. And I’m going to love you until my last dying breath.”

All at once, he realized he was not alone.

People were streaming out of the doors of the house. A great crowd.

Pivoting around, he held his son protectively, bracing himself for bad news. “What.”

They came for Beth when she was on the treadmill. All of them. The whole membership of the Brotherhood.

But it wasn’t Tohr who did the talking. It was Saxton.

And when he was finished, she went numb and nearly fell out of her Nikes.

Her trip back through the tunnel, heading for the house, had the same kind of dreamscape removal that she’d suffered from when she’d gotten into trouble giving birth. She didn’t remember anything about the rush, not all the people with her, not anything that was said.

And when she came up to the foyer, and saw the others in the household gathered once again, every single one of them had the same expression she felt on her own face.

Destiny had taken the reins again.

And all they could do was go in the new direction.

She was leading the charge as they went around the first floor of the house, expecting at each turn to see Wrath and L.W.

The open door out onto the terrace provided the clue as to where they were.

As she stepped out into the night, she saw her husband holding her son up to the fullest moon of the season, the brilliant shining orb like the sun, the landscape bathed in white light.

It was as if he were making a sacred offering—

With a quick shift, Wrath turned on a dime, shielding their son with his massive arms. “What.”

Even though Saxton had brought the information home, everyone looked at her.

Stepping forward, she wished she was in something other than workout gear. A ball gown, maybe.

“Beth, what the f**k is going on?”

She tried to get the words right, frantically stringing nouns and verbs together at random in her head. In the end, though, she kept it short and sweet.

Dropping down on one knee, she lowered her head. “Long live the King.”

On a oner, the crowd behind her did the same, a chorus of those four words rising up into the night as their bodies lowered to the flagstone.

“I’m sorry.” Wrath shook his head. “I’m not hearing that?”

She got up. But she was the only one.

“You were unanimously elected for life. King of the race. Abalone led the effort, and all those commoners you helped cast the votes. Every single one of them. You have been chosen by your people to lead. You are the King.”

As the chanting started, Wrath seemed to have no idea how to respond. And it was such joyful chanting, female and male voices lifting up to the night sky, a celebration of the present and the future.

“And who knows,” Beth said as she looked at their son. “Maybe if he grows up to be like his father, he’ll be chosen, too. But it’s up to the people—you put the right to vote in their hands, and they gave the throne to you.”