The King (Black Dagger Brotherhood, #12)

As the Chosen’s pale green eyes shifted back to the television screen, she appeared far older than her youth.

It was a good reminder, Beth thought to herself. Nobody had it perfect—and as much as Beth was struggling, at least she wasn’t carrying the baby of the man she loved … while he was happily with someone else.

“I can’t imagine how hard this is for you,” she heard herself say. “To love someone you can’t be with.”

Wide eyes shot back to her own—and there was an echo of something she couldn’t decipher in them.

“Qhuinn’s a good male,” Beth said. “I can understand why you care about him.”

Awkward moment. And then the Chosen cleared her throat. “Yes. Indeed. So … Patti appears displeased with this gentleman.”

Great, Beth thought. So far she’d made her brother pass out, gotten on her husband’s case … and now she was clearly upsetting Layla.

“I won’t tell anyone,” she said, hoping to make things better.

“Thank you,” the Chosen replied after a moment. “I would be ever grateful for that.”

Forcing herself into a refocus, Beth found that, yup, Patti Stanger was chewing some greasy-haired lothario a new one.

They’d probably violated her “Nothing in here, here, or here” rule. Either that or he’d jackassed out big-time on the date.

Beth tried to get into the blow up, but the vibe was off in the room, sure as if there were someone else in with them, a specter or a ghost, and not in the Doc Jane sense.

No, a weight had settled in the very air itself.

As the episode concluded, Beth checked her watch even though the TV flashed the time. “I think I’ll go see how Wrath is. Maybe it’s break time.”

“Oh, yes, and I’m tired. Mayhap I’ll sleep.”

Beth got off the bed and collected the empty bowl and carton, returning them to Fritz’s tray. Over at the door, she glanced back.

Layla was sitting against those pillows, eyes staring at the television as if she were mesmerized. But Beth didn’t buy it. The female was a chatterer when it came to viewing, prone to lively discussion about everything from what people were wearing to how they expressed themselves to whatever drama she found shocking.

In this moment, however, she was pulling a Wrath—here but not here, present and disappeared at the same time.

“Sleep well,” Beth said.

There was no response. And there would be no sleep for the female.

Beth slipped out into the hall of statues … and stalled.

In fact, she wasn’t going to go see Wrath. She didn’t trust herself at the moment. She was too up and down and back and forth emotionally—and she wasn’t entirely sure she could not bring up the baby thing with him the second they were alone.

No, before she saw him, she needed some equilibrium.

It was in her best interests.

And everybody else’s.





J.R. Ward's books