Bracing the phone on her shoulder, she folded the wet tissue in precise little squares. “Oh, Wrath…”
“When it comes to you 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 did you…” He cleared his throat. “How long ago was this?”
“Over a year.”
“Damn…”
“Like I said, I’ve felt like this for a while. And I thought you’d change your mind. I knew it wasn’t a priority for you.” She was trying to be diplomatic on that one. “I thought … well, now that I’m saying it, I realize I never did talk to you about where I was at. There just hasn’t been time.”
“I’m sorry. I know I already apologized, but … goddamn it.”
“It’s all right.” She closed her eyes. “And I know where you’re coming from. It’s not like I haven’t seen you every night looking like you wanted to be anywhere else but where you were.”
There was another long silence.
“There’s something else,” he said after a while.
“What?”
“I think you’re going into your needing. Soon.”
Even as Beth’s jaw dropped open, in the back of her mind, something kindled. “I … how do you know?”
The mood swings. The chocolate cravings. The weight gain …
“Shit,” she said. “I, ah … oh, shit.”
Annnnnnnnd that just about summed it up, Wrath thought as he eased back in the library’s desk chair. At his feet, George was stretched out on the rug, that big, boxy head resting on one of Wrath’s shitkickers as if offering support.
“I can’t be sure.” Wrath rubbed his aching temple. “But as your mate, I’m going to be affected as soon as your hormones start fluxing—my blood runs hotter, my emotions are stronger, my temper gets really touchy. Like, you’re out of the house now, right? And I feel more myself than I have in about two weeks. But during that argument we had? I was kinda nuts.”
“Two weeks … that’s about the time I started checking in and then sitting with Layla. And yeah, you were really out there.”
“Now”—he held up his forefinger to make the point even though she wasn’t with him in person—“this is not to excuse the way I behaved. It’s just context. I can talk to you over the phone like this and keep it together enough so I can explain myself. When you’re with me? Again, not an excuse and not your fault, but I’m wondering if it didn’t play a part in all of that.”
As he leaned to the side and put his hand on his dog, George lifted his head, the golden seeking, sniffing, giving a little lick. Stroking the long waves that grew from that barrel chest, Wrath pulled them out and flattened them on George’s forelegs.
“God, Wrath, when I didn’t wake up with you just now…”
“Horrible. I know. It was the same for me—or maybe even worse. I wasn’t sure whether I’d really fucked things up. Like, no-going-back-fucked-up.”
“You haven’t.” There was a rustling, like she was shifting around on the bed. “And I guess I knew we’ve been kind of working in parallel for the last while. I just hadn’t realized how much time we’ve lost—and other things. Going down to Manhattan, getting away together, really talking. It’s been a while.”
“Honestly, that’s another reason I don’t want a kid. I can barely keep connected with you at this point. I don’t have anything to offer a young.”
“That’s not true. You’d make a wonderful father.”
“In another universe, maybe.”
“So what do we do?” she asked after a moment.
Wrath rubbed his eyes. Damn, he felt hungover as hell. “I don’t know. I really don’t.”
They’d each said their piece in the way it should have been done in the first place. Reasonably. Calmly.
Actually, he’d been the problem on that one, not her.
“I’m so sorry,” he said again. “It doesn’t go far enough, on so many levels. But there’s nothing else I can … man, I’m getting really fucking tired of feeling impotent.”
“You are not impotent,” she said dryly. “We’ve well established that.”
All he could do was grunt in response. “When are you coming home?”
“Now. I’ll drive in—I think there’s an extra car here somewhere.”
“Wait until after dark.”
“Wrath, we’ve been through this before. I’m perfectly fine in the sunlight. Besides, it’s nearly four-thirty. There’s not much left.”