The King (Black Dagger Brotherhood #12) - J.R. Ward Page 0,100

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