The King (Black Dagger Brotherhood #12)(21)
Author: J.R. Ward

The instant she heard what she’d said, she cursed. Now was hardly the time. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to ask that—”

Was I saying something? he signed.

“Let’s give him some space,” Wrath said. “Xhex, you wanna take your man to your room.”

“Amen to that.” The broad-shouldered female stepped in, hooking a hold around John’s waist and marching him off down the hall of statues.

Doc Jane put her equipment back in her little black bag. “It’s time to find out what’s causing those.”

Wrath cursed softly. “Does he have medical clearance to fight?”

She got to her feet, her smart eyes narrowing. “He’s going to hate me, but no. I want to do an MRI on him first. Unfortunately, for that, we’re going to have to make some arrangements.”

“How can I help?” Beth asked.

“I’ll go talk to Manny now. Havers doesn’t have that kind of equipment and neither do we.” Doc Jane dragged a hand through her short blond hair. “I have no clue how we’re going to get him into St. Francis, but that’s where we need to go.”

“What do you think could be wrong?” Beth interjected.

“No offense, but you don’t want to know. Right now, let me start pulling strings and—”

“I’m going to go with him.” Beth stared so hard at V’s shellan, it was a wonder she didn’t burn a hole in the woman’s head. “If he has to get that test done, I’m going with.”

“Fine, but we’ll keep the team to an absolute minimum. This is going to be hard enough to pull off without taking an army with us.”

Vishous’s mate turned away and jogged down the stairs, and as she went, she gradually lost her form, her body’s weight and presence dissipating until she was a ghostly apparition floating down the carpet.

Spook or solid, it didn’t matter, Beth thought. She’d rather be treated by that woman than anyone else on the planet.

Oh, God … John.

Beth turned to Blay and Qhuinn. “Do either of you know what he was trying to communicate?”

Both of them glanced over at Wrath. And then promptly shook their heads.

“Liars,” she muttered. “Why won’t you tell me—”

Wrath started to massage her shoulders, like he wanted to calm the little woman down—and didn’t that suggest that even if the particulars were unknown because of his blindness, he had read the emotions. He was like that. He knew something.

“Just let it go, leelan.”

“Do not play boys’ club with me,” she said, pulling away and glaring at the cock-and-balls brigade. “That’s my brother—and he was trying to talk to me. I deserve to be in on this.”

Blay and Qhuinn got busy looking at the carpet. The mirror over the side table next to the study’s open doors. Their fingernails.

Clearly, they were hoping a wormhole would open up under their shitkickers.

Well, too bad, boys—life wasn’t an epi of Doctor Who. And you know what? The idea that pair—as well as every other male in the house—would always defer to Wrath made her even more pissed off. But short of stamping her feet and looking like a total ass, she had no choice but to shelve the fight for later when she and her mate had some privacy.

“Leelan—”

“My ice cream is melting,” she muttered as she went over and picked up the tray. “It would make my night if any of you three would get real with me. But I shouldn’t hold my breath for that, should I.”

As she marched off, the sense of foreboding that followed her was nothing new—ever since Wrath had been shot, she’d felt like another shoe was going to drop at any moment, and gee, seeing her brother on the carpet did so much to improve that paranoia.

Not.

Coming up to the door that had been Blay’s before he’d moved in with Qhuinn, she pulled herself together.

It didn’t work, but she knocked anyway. “Layla?”

“Come in,” was the muffled reply.

Balancing the tray awkwardly on her hip, it was hard to get a good hold on the knob—

Payne, V’s sister, opened things up with a smile. And man, she was an impressive presence, especially in all that black leather: She was the only female on rotation to fight in the field with the Brothers—and she must have just come home from a shift.

“Good evening, my queen.”

“Oh, thanks.” Beth hitched her load up and entered the lavender bedroom. “I’m bringing provisions.”

Payne shook her head. “I rather think it’s going to be necessary. I can’t imagine there’s anything left in her stomach—in fact, I believe she’s evacuated all the food she ate last week, too.”

As retching sounds drifted out of the bathroom, they both winced.

Beth eyed the bowl of Breyers. “Maybe I should come back later—”

“Don’t you dare,” the Chosen called out. “I feel great!”

“Doesn’t sound that way—”

“I’m hungry! Don’t you dare leave.”

Payne shrugged. “She has an amazing attitude. I come in here to get inspired—although not to go into my needing, which is why I need to leave now.”

While V’s sister shuddered again, like a female’s cycle and the whole baby thing was nothing she was interested in, Beth put the tray on top of an antique bureau. “Well, actually … that’s what I’m hoping for.”

Payne’s poleaxed expression made her curse. “What I mean is … um…”

Yeah, how to dig her way out of this one.

“You and Wrath are going to have a young?”

“No, no, no—hold on.” As she put her palms up, she tried to develop a bailout plan. “Ah…”

Payne’s embrace was fast as a gust and as strong as a male’s, crushing the breath out of Beth’s lungs. “This is wonderful news—”

Beth pushed her way out of those iron bars. “Actually, we’re not there yet. I’m just … look, don’t tell Wrath I’m in here, okay?”

“So you want to surprise him! How romantic!”

“Yeah, he’ll be surprised, all right.” As Payne gave her a strange look, Beth shook her head. “Look, to be honest, I don’t know that my needing will necessarily be good news.”

“An heir to the throne could really help him, though. If you’re thinking politically.”