The King (Black Dagger Brotherhood #12) - J.R. Ward Page 0,59

first of the downtown Caldwell exits, they could be in Manhattan in about an hour. Farther south than that would put them into Pennsylvania and then down to Maryland and …

“You ever wish you could just get away sometimes?” she heard herself ask.

Before Xhex came around? Sure. But now …

God, to think Wrath was the one she wanted to bolt from. Never saw that coming.

What’s going on, Beth.

There was another long silence, during which she knew he was hoping she’d string some nouns and verbs together for his benefit.

“Oh, you know, just a marital moment.”

He shook his head. Been there, done that. It sucks.

“Too right.”

Finally, he signed, You can use Darius’s house, you know. If you need some space. You gave it to me, which was great—but I always think of it as half yours, too.

She pictured the Federal-style mansion deep in human territory, and her chest burned. “Thanks, but I’ll be okay.”

And even if she wasn’t, the last place she wanted to go was where she and Wrath had fallen in love.

Sometimes good memories were harder to bear than bad ones.

Can you at least give me a topic? My head is running in all kinds of directions.

It was going to take them another fifteen, twenty minutes to get to the St. Francis medical complex. Long time to sit in this awkward silence. And yet it seemed a violation of her and Wrath’s privacy to talk about the baby thing … or maybe that was just an excuse to hide the fact that she didn’t want to burst into tears.

“Do you remember anything about your seizures. I mean, like, when you’re in them?”

I thought we were talking about you.

“We are.” As he glanced over at her, she met his eyes. “You were telling me something. Halfway through, you looked up at me … and you were mouthing something. Can you remember what it was?”

He frowned as though he were running a check of his memory banks, his gaze going unfocused. I really can’t … I just … I got up to the top of the stairs, looked into Wrath’s study, saw you … and then it wasn’t until Xhex took me down the hall to our room that my lights really came back on.

“They say it was in the Old Language.”

John shook his head. Not possible. I mean, I can read it some and understand a little if someone talks to me. But I can’t speak it.

She inspected the ends of her hair, even though she knew there were no split ends; one of the doggen had trimmed it just last week.

“Well, is there something you want to tell me anyway?” She glanced over. “You can be honest with me about anything. Wrath has, like, a dozen Brothers. I only have you.”

John frowned again. No, I—

A sudden trembling scrambled his hands, choking off whatever he was signing—and then he jerked back in the seat, his body going rigid.

“John!” Beth reached out to her brother. “John—oh, my God…”

As his eyes rolled back in his head, the whites flashed like he was dying. “John—come back…!”

Jerking forward, she knocked on the partition. “Fritz!”

As the butler dropped the smoky glass, she barked, “Hit it—he’s having another seizure!”

Fritz’s shocked eyes flipped up to the rearview. “Yes, madam. At once!”

The old butler stomped on the gas, and as the Mercedes torpedoed up the Northway’s entrance ramp, she tried to help John. The seizure had taken him over, though, his back straight and unforgiving as a ramrod, his hands curled up to his chest and cranked into Dracula claws.

“John,” she begged in a cracking voice. “Stay with me, John…”

THIRTEEN

“Tell me he’s coming around again.”

As Assail spoke, he stared out the front windshield of the Rover, the hilt of a dagger locked in the grip of his right hand. They were deep into the woody fringes of Caldwell’s zip code, no lights from dwellings twinkling through the tree line, no other vehicles coming or going along the icy, two-lane country road.

Benloise had roused briefly, only to “pass out” again. Which could well be a lie.

“Not yet,” Ehric muttered. “But he’s alive.”

Not for long.

“And naked,” the fighter tacked on.

Assail wrenched around just as his cousin collapsed his hunting knife. Naked, indeed. Benloise’s bespoke suit had been beshredded, the fine navy fabric in tatters, the silk shirt underneath unfit even for a housecleaner’s use. All jewelry had been removed as well, from the Chopard diamond watch to the gold signet ring, from the link bracelet to the cross on a