Holding all that tightly to her chest, she reminded herself yet again why the phone staying quiet was a good thing—

At first, she wasn’t sure exactly what the tip-off was.

Not a smell, no; the wind was coming at her. And it wasn’t the sight of anything—as she searched the landscape behind her, seeing scruffy bushes, another condo development, some kind of a lawn, a pool … there was nothing that moved. No sound, either.

“Assail?” she breathed into the wind.

She walked toward the bushes. Then jogged.

But when she got close to them? He wasn’t there.

“Assail!” she called out. “I know you’re here!”

Her voice didn’t carry far because of the wind. Backtracking, she jogged closer to home. “Assail?”

Her heart was thumping in her chest, a treacherous hope vibrating through her until she felt like she was floating over the sand.

That optimism was like gasoline in a tank, however. The longer there was no reply, the lower the level got, until she slowed … stopped.

“Assail …?”

She looked all around, praying to see him even though it was the last thing she needed.

But the black-haired man she was searching for did not answer her call … and eventually that sense that she was being watched went away.

As if the wind had taken it.

As if it had never existed.

On the way back to her place, she let the tears fall one by one without bothering to wipe them off. It was dark out. There was no one to see them.

And nothing to hide from.

She was … on her own.

SEVENTY

And so it went, the weeks and months passing, seasons changing from the bitter cold of winter to the wet, bracing winds of spring to the sweet-scented nights that promised an early summer.

By May, Wrath was used to measuring the time not by the calendar, or the up-and-down of the shutters of the mansion, or the meals at his own home.

It was by the nights that he spent hearing the stories of his people.

The real ones. The ones about life and death. And matings and divorces. And sicknesses and health. It was funny: As important as the vampire mating ceremony was to him, the human one he’d gone through with Beth got the metronome of existence better.

His audiences with the commoners were all set up thanks to quiet, steady Abe, a.k.a. Abalone, but Wrath’s responses to things were his own. And there was so much to do, mediating disagreements in families, blessing the sons and daughters who were born, sharing grief with those who had suffered losses and joy with those who had had good fortune.

As always, Beth was by his side, sitting with Abe during the audiences, checking the paperwork with Saxton when it was required … growing bigger in the belly every moment.

“We are here, my lord,” Fritz said from the front of the Mercedes. “At Master Darius’s.”

“Thanks, my man.”

As he and George got out of the back, he paused and leaned in. “Hey, can you go and get more of those strawberries? She’s got a craving for carrots again, too. And pickles. You better grab two of those jars with those tart motherfuckers.”

“I shall be back right away, my lord! And I think I will get some of the frozen yogurt for her? She takes it with the chocolate chips?”

“Oh, shit. Yeah. And don’t forget the beets. Or the beef.”

“I shan’t.”

“Hurry, okay? iAm’s bringing her in from Pottery Barn.”

Wrath shut the door. “Let’s do it,” he said to George.

And the dog knew right where to go, leading him to the entrance—which Wrath opened with his mind. “Hi, honey, I’m home!” he hollered.

“Did you bring flowers?” Lassiter shouted back.

“Not for you.”

“Damn it. Well, I’m on deck tonight with Tohr, so can we get moving? There’s a full list of appointments, but I want to get back for Hell’s Kitchen.”

“Don’t you DVR that shit?” Wrath groused as he and George went into the old dining room.

“Yeah, but I have poor impulse control. It was on at nine, okay? And I hate waiting. I put George’s fresh water down by your chair, b.t.dub.”

“At least you’re a dog lover. That’s the only thing that saves you.”

“Ha! I have wings and a halo, you cranky son of a bitch. I’m already perma-saved.”

“Just our luck.”

“Hey, my brother,” V said as he came through the archway and lit a hand-rolled. “Where’s your girl?”

Lassiter cut in, “She’s got to be coming back soon, right?”

Wrath had to smile as he took his seat. About the only time that annoying SOB got serious was when it came to Beth—and he had to admit, that was kinda endearing.

“She back yet?” Rhage asked as he walked into the room.

“How long can it take to order baby furniture?” Butch demanded while making his appearance.

“Weeks,” Z answered. “You have no idea.”

And so it went, everyone arriving with the same question, from Blay and Qhuinn to Phury and Rehvenge.

The only one who didn’t ask it out loud was John—but he didn’t have to. Beth’s brother had been a quiet, worried presence since they’d made the announcement of the surprise pregnancy. And Wrath loved the guy for it. John never got in the way, but he was always there, listening to Beth, being supportive, talking with her, bringing her movies.

Funny, the gravity with which he treated the situation made Wrath think of Darius.

God, he wished the brother had survived to see what was coming in … was it only four weeks?

Jesus …

Every time Wrath thought about the impending event, he found he couldn’t breathe. But he forced himself to remember all the checkups iAm had been taking his wife to. Beth was having a perfect pregnancy. She was healthy, happy, eating and drinking, and feeding well—not that Dr. Sam, the human physician she went to, knew about that. And the heart rate was great. And his son was great.

It was almost too easy.

Four weeks to go—

“Leelan,” Wrath barked as he exploded up from his chair.

There were all kinds of deep-voiced greetings, but his brothers got out of the way so that she had a clear shot into his arms. And as he lifted her up, he was careful to put no pressure on her belly.

“How are you?” he whispered in her ear, knowing that one of these days, she was going to answer that she was having contractions.

“Fine and dandy. Oh, my God, I got the best stuff! I had to go blue—I mean, whatever, we’re having a boy. The crib and dressing table are perfect—right, iAm?”

The Shadow answered, “Perfect.”

No doubt the poor bastard had no interest in the shit at all, but that didn’t matter. He was another one who had stuck by Beth and been her protector in the human world—and Wrath knew the why, of course. It was iAm’s way of paying the household back for letting him and his it’s-complicated brother stay at the mansion after their pad at the Commodore had been compromised. Plus, it was pretty obvi that he liked Beth in a nonromantic kind of way.

“Right? I know, right?” Beth hugged Wrath’s neck so hard he couldn’t swallow. “I’m so excited! I want to meet him now!”

“Is this nesting?” Wrath asked in the direction of where he’d heard Z’s voice last.

“Yeah. And wait for it. You still have Diaper Genies and bottles to get through.”

“We’re going Born Free,” Beth informed him, like he knew what that meant. “In case my milk doesn’t come in.”

Wrath just sat down in the chair and arranged her on his lap, content to ease back and let her enjoy making her report. And the brothers and the fighters? They rallied right around, asking questions like big brothers would.

Any one of them would have laid down his life for her or that young in her womb.

It was enough to make a male have to blink a little faster.

As Wrath held his female, he found his hand making a circle on her rock-hard belly and his brain reverted back to just before sunset. Once he’d gotten over his hang-up about sex, things had gone back to the way they’d been right after they’d met.

Hormonal surges being what they were and all.

This late in the game, they had to do it with her on top, and that was more than fine with him. He loved palming her now-heavy br**sts with his hands and feeling her core take him in a new way because of the way her body had changed shape.

Matter of fact, maybe there was time for a quickie before—

“Hey, Abes.”

“Yo, Ab.”

“Whassup, Albacore?”

Naturally, Lassiter was the one who refused to get that name right.

As Abalone stuttered through his greetings, you had to smile. The guy still couldn’t quite get used to the brothers, but they were used to him. And so was Wrath.

“My lord, my lady, good evening.”

“Abalone, how’s your daughter,” Beth said.

“Yeah, Abe, how’d that date go last night?”

Pin-drop time. The Brotherhood had adopted the male and his only young, and woe was the young Turk who took the girl out and didn’t treat her right.

“Well, I don’t believe it was a love match. But she was returned a full thirty minutes before curfew.”

“Good.” Wrath nodded. “That means he can keep his legs. So what have we got on deck for us tonight?”

“It’s a full roster,” the aristocrat reported. “The first couple we’ll see have just had a grandyoung, and they want to ask you if they may bring the mother in with the wee one. Their daughter is not married to the father, however, and they are concerned it will offend you.”

“Absolutely not.”

Abalone’s tone remained calm. “But it’s important to them that they ask permission and acknowledge this in person with you.”

“Fine. Cool. When do I get to meet the kid?”

Abalone laughed. “Tomorrow evening?”

“I’ll be here. And who’s after that?”

“A cousin of mine, actually. He’s seeking permission to…”

As the gentlemale went on and on, detailing the family interrelationships, Wrath was once again in awe. Abe was so low-key and respectful, never once stepping out of place, and yet every single f**king night he provided this wellspring of knowledge and compassion.

It was damn impressive.

And as Wrath sat back and listened to all the preamble, he was struck by how he could do this for f**king ever. He really could.

Especially with his shellan front and center, his dog next to him, and his brothers surrounding them all.

With a feeling of great dread, Anha put her hand upon her swelling belly, and watched her mate gird himself for the night ahead.

In the flickering light from the hearth and the candles, everything was different about him. She had noticed the change coming over the last number of months, but on this eve, all that had been subtle appeared to have coalesced at once, the culmination having arrived.

His body was different now, harder, more defined. Larger.

And his expression was not the same. At least, not when this new mood of his settled upon his shoulders.

As if sensing her regard, he looked over at her.

“How long will you be gone?” she asked. “And do not lie. I know for what purpose you are leaving.”

He turned away from her, to the oak table on which clothing she had never seen before had materialized, brought in by the Brotherhood. Everything was black.

“I shall return at dawn.”

His voice was lower than normal, colder than normal. And then she realized that he was putting on a leather strapping o’er his chest. Just as the Brothers wore.

“You are going to fight?” she whispered through a closed throat.

When he finally answered her, it was after he’d put two black daggers, handle down, over his heart. “I shall return at dawn.”

“You’re going to kill them, aren’t you.”

“Do you want me to answer that?”

“Yes.”

Wrath, her mate, her love, the father of her nascent young, approached her where she sat afore her vanity mirror. When he got down upon his knees, it was a relief, because he was almost familiar that way. Especially as he looked into her eyes.

“I shall do what needs doing,” he said.

She put her hands on his face, tracing the features, thinking back to all the dawns he’d come home bloodied and limping, swollen and stiff. But lately he had kept to his schedule with the males, and not returned injured.

So she should have known it was time.

“Be safe?” she implored. “We need you.”

“I will come back unto you. Always.”

At that, he kissed her hard, and then he left through the chamber door. Before it closed behind him, she saw that the Brothers had lined up on either side of the stone corridor, each with a torch.

They bowed to her hellren as he walked out.

Alone …

Dropping her head into her hands, she knew that all she could do … was pray.

SEVENTY-ONE

As Wrath saw the first of his appointments, Beth snuck out into the kitchen and snagged a bowl of fresh strawberries that Fritz had bought for her at the local Hannaford.

Man, after the past number of months, she had gotten used to the spoiling—a benefit Bella had told her to enjoy, but which had taken some time to become chill with: Everyone had been, and was being, so kind, the Brothers and their mates, the staff, John Matthew, the Shadows. It was incredible.

Just like the pregnancy.

By some miracle, she was trending exactly like a normal human pregnancy, well into her eighth month and feeling great. She had plenty of stamina, no swollen ankles, no stretch marks, and a baby that did laps under her rib cage every time she ate. Especially if there was sugar involved.