The King (Black Dagger Brotherhood #12) - J.R. Ward Page 0,232

safety of the baby came first.

And that meant she was going to have to go to Dr. Sam—

“Are the berries to your liking, madam?” Fritz asked.

Looking across her father’s kitchen, she nodded. “They’re perfect.”

As the butler beamed like he’d won the lottery, she finished what was in the bowl and allowed him to take the thing from her.

Heading back out into the dining room, she was careful to make no noise as she went across to her padded seat.

Wrath was sitting in the armchair he favored, the one on the left, the one that Saxton’s desk was behind. Across from him, in the matching chair, a male was sitting with his hands clasped hard on his knees, his shoulders hunched, his face gray. The clothes he was wearing were not fancy, just the kind of stuff you could get at Target, and his watch was nothing like a Rolex, just a matte black rubber–strapped one.

Wrath leaned forward and offered his palm. “What happened?”

The male rocked back and forth in the chair. “She…” All at once he looked at Beth, his face blanching even further.

As she stiffened, she put her hand over her belly.

Oh … hell.

“Talk to me,” Wrath said in a low voice.

“She…” At this point, the male began to whisper so softly that nothing carried.

But it was clear Wrath understood every word. And as she watched her husband’s hands clench, those forearms bunching up, she knew what it was about.

Deaths. From childbearing.

She had heard for so long about how the vampire race suffered on the birthing bed, as they called it, but she’d had no true appreciation for their losses before. Doing this with the commoners now? She was routinely horrified.

So many dead. Mothers and children.

Just as her own mom had died.

It was a tragedy that medical science couldn’t seem to make much of a dent in. Say what you would about Havers: He had a clinic outfitted with all kinds of modern technology, and yet bad things happened. Seemingly all the time.

Wrath reached out his great arms and put his hands on the male’s shoulders. He spoke softly as well, but whatever he was saying, the husband who had lost everything was nodding.

They stayed like that for a very long time.

When the meeting was finally over, the two of them stood up and embraced, the civilian so much smaller than her husband.

Before the male left, he kissed Wrath’s ring.

Abalone escorted the commoner out, talking quietly with him, as Wrath slowly lowered himself back down. His brows were tight, his mouth a grim line.

As she stood up, she winced and had to stretch her back. Going over, she wanted to pull him tightly to her, but figured a reminder of the pregnancy was probably not what he needed at the moment.

“I can’t help him,” Wrath said in a voice that cracked. “I can’t … help where he’s at.”

“Sometimes knowing you’re not alone is enough.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

But he took her hands and brought them to his lips, kissing her knuckles one by one. And as a sudden wave of exhaustion hit her, he seemed to recognize it.

“How about you head home?” he said.

“How did you know?”

“You just yawned.”

“Did I?”

“Have Fritz take you.”

As she arched her back, she wanted to stay, but had to be realistic. “Maybe walking around the mall for all that time was a little much.”

“Go on, take a rest. I’ll be home in a couple of hours and I’ll put some shitty television on for us, ’kay?”

“That sounds like heaven.”

“Good.” He kissed her once. And then seemed to have to do it again. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Fritz!” her husband called out. “Car!”

She made sure to pet George a couple of times and tell him where she was going before she left. And then she was out into the night, getting into the rear of the Mercedes, heading for the mansion.

Letting her head fall back against the seat, she could feel herself already begin to doze off. “I’m afraid I’m not very good company,” she said to Fritz.

“Just rest, madam.”

“Good idea, Fritz.”

As Beth departed, Wrath leaned back in the armchair, and was not at ease in the slightest.

… she died in front of me …

… held my lifeless son in my hands …

“My lord?”

“I’m sorry, what?” He shook himself. “What?”

Abalone cleared his throat. “Would you like a break, sire?”

“Yeah. Just gimme a minute.” Taking George’s halter, he said, “Kitchen.”

Walking through the flap door with his dog, he was relieved that Fritz had already