Wicked Pleasures (18 page)

Managing to get out of bed, turning on the closet
light and dressing without waking her, he took a long moment to
gaze at her and he felt something twist inside his chest. He wasn’t
sure what it was. He’d never felt it before.

Her beauty was immeasurable. Her long hair cascaded
over the pillow. The satin sheet had fallen away and her naked
splendor teased his hungry eyes. There was more to her than her
beauty though. He saw into her heart and the kindness and
sincerity. He’d also seen the love that she wanted to hide. He was
flattered that she could love him. After all, he was an ogre, just
as she’d called him numerous times. He’d become one with his anger
and hostility over the years, allowing his heartbreak to make him a
pitiful mess.

Bronte was opening new windows and doors faster than
he could recover.

Overcome with an urge to remove his clothing and
crawl back into bed, he wanted to show her again how much he
desired her. It took all of his strength to deny himself the
pleasure. She’d satisfied him in ways he’d never known possible and
his cock ached in mere thought.

“Fuck!” He didn’t want to leave her. But now that
they’d joined, he had to protect his plan, more than ever.

Roark left the room and descended the stairs,
greeting Shelby who was standing at the bottom. The other man
sneered. “It’s about time. I can smell her on you.” He sniffed.
“Not bad.”

A strong desire to rip the man’s head off his
shoulders soared through Roark. He wasn’t sure why he suddenly had
hatred toward his friend.

“How are things going with this man Gage?” Roark
finally asked. He knew Bronte carried no love for the man she’d
dated. However, jealousy sank deep into his stomach. He realized
she’d probably go back to her life eventually and Gage would hope
to pick up the pieces. He couldn’t allow himself to engage in
sympathetic thoughts of sending her away when the time came. Their
fate was sealed and there was no changing it. Their union could
fall back into a danger zone…again.

“I’ve managed to appease him for the time being.
It’s amazing how I could convince him that it was Bronte that he
was speaking to on the phone.”

“Did you convince him she needed more time to
herself?” Roark asked.

“He’s not happy, but he’s convinced. I think it’s
best if we stage the woman’s murder.”

“No, we won’t destroy her life.” Roark took his gaze
off Shelby and glanced up the stairs. “If we do that, she won’t
have a life to go back to. Everyone will have moved on.”

Shelby snorted. “She’ll create a new one.”

“And we know how easy that is, don’t we,” Roark said
in disgust. He swept past Shelby and stomped inside the den. Shelby
followed and closed the door behind him. “Is this fiancé capable of
causing problems?”

“I don’t think he’ll be held off much longer. Faking
her death is the best way to contain him.”

Roark sat down behind the mahogany desk and sighed.
His feelings for Bronte were getting in the way of his logical
reasoning. He knew better. He’d learned a severe lesson in emotions
a long time ago. His family couldn’t suffer again for such a
mistake. Feelings only made him weaker. He had to do what was right
for others involved. If she were with child she’d still be hidden
for another nine months. “Then stage her death.”

“I’ll need fresh blood and the clothes she had on
the night we grabbed her,” Shelby said. The other man seemed almost
pleased with Roark’s decision.

He nodded. “You’ll find the clothes in the basement.
The blood won’t be as easy.”

Shelby sniffed loudly. “It’s very easy. Just take
it!”

Roark brought his gaze around to Shelby, barely
containing his anger. “She is not a prisoner. She is my—” He
stopped himself from continuing.

“So what if she’s your lost wife. She didn’t think
twice when she teamed with the witch against us. It’s all for the
good, my dear friend.” Shelby showed little concern.

“I know she brought an awful spell down upon us, but
Bronte is different. Jillian’s blood may flow through her veins,
but Bronte would never allow anger to rule her logic.” Even as the
words left him, Roark wasn’t sure. Anyone was capable of betraying
another. He got up and started for the door, pausing only long
enough to say, “Wait here. I’ll be back.”

Roark went back upstairs and into his bedroom.
Bronte was still fast asleep. Going into the bathroom, he took out
an empty vial and a razor blade from the cabinet and went back to
Bronte. She was lying on her stomach with her arms stretched high
above her head. Guilt plagued him as he touched the knife’s edge to
the skin on her back.

Swallowing back an ache in his throat, he pulled
back. He knew what he needed to do. A few minutes later, he started
back down the stairs.

Shelby waited for him by the door. “You have the
blood?” he asked when he saw Roark coming.

Roark tossed him the vial. “Take care of
business.”

He said goodbye to Shelby then went into his den,
arranging his thoughts before he went to Bronte.

An hour later, he went upstairs. He sensed something
was wrong before he entered the bedroom. She was sitting at the
bottom of the bed, her face was pale and his journal was open on
her lap. He looked at the drawer where he kept it locked away. He
knew he hadn’t left it unlocked. Bronte had found the key.

He went to stand in front of her. “Bronte?”

She lifted her head—confusion and fear marred her
features. “It’s true, isn’t it? No matter what, you’ll discard me
like yesterday’s trash. You married Jillian and now you believe I’m
her. That’s all that I am to you—her memory...” Her tone was
deathly unnerving. He wasn’t sure if he felt relief that she knew
everything, or fear that because she knew the truth she’d block him
out.

He started to touch her but she pushed his hand
away. “Are you okay?”

“How awful it must be for you to have to touch me!
I’m not Jillian! I’m only the woman who you must impregnate. The
one who does nothing for you emotionally and sexually!” Rage made
her eyes deep green.

“Bronte! That’s not how I feel.”

“Is that so? Your words are right here!” She held up
the journal and shook it. “So get on with your story so that I can
figure out what I must do.”

Roark hated seeing her like this. He sat down in the
chair by the window. “It’s been a long and lonely one hundred years
waiting for you to come along.”

Her stare remained on him, lacking its usual shine.
“For me? Or Jillian?”

He inhaled, feeling as if his lungs would burst.
“Honestly, I’m not sure. Maybe for a short time I thought you were
her, the birthmark and resemblance, but I know now that you’re not
her, at least not in the literal sense. You’re her descendant. Her
blood rolls through your veins and I honor the promise I made to
her as I watched her die.”

“You were in love with her. You still are,” she
whispered.

He soaked up her sadness. He wanted to make his
words as painless as possible. “I loved her. For many, many years.
Then I turned against her for the curse. I thought no one could
ever fill the void that has been home in my heart for far too
long.”

Her eyes misted. “She brought the curse down upon
your family.”

“She did it because she was in pain and her hated
for me was stronger than the love she carried in her heart.” He
turned and gazed out the window, not seeing anything but his
miserable expression staring back at him. “It was my fault for
believing that a wolf and human could join as partners.” His
stomach knotted. “That night that Jillian’s father died, she’d told
townspeople about us and they hunted the clan. After her father was
attacked, the family knew we’d be sought after. We couldn’t all
leave together for fear the humans would track us. We were much
stronger, but we believed in peace and didn’t want things to end in
a bloodbath. The males stayed behind, waiting. We only wanted
safety for our people. Somehow the humans had known that we
divided. The women didn’t meet their destination.”

Her gasp chilled the air. “The females were
killed.”

“In cold blood,” he answered. “The murderers set up
a trap and the women walked right into it. We don’t know how. It’s
almost as if someone had told the humans what path they would
take.”

“What about Miss Deveraux?”

“She was left for dead and barely survived.”

“I’m so sorry, Roark.” He watched her swipe at
tears. Her bottom lip trembled.

“Then Jillian visited the old witch and cursed my
family.”

“And Azelda jumped at the opportunity,” Bronte
said.

“Anger changes people. I wanted to kill Azelda
myself for casting the spell. She is a greedy old woman. Jillian
brought an unbearable curse upon us and on her people. We would
live as humans for one hundred years, not capable of shifting into
wolves. We still hold great strength, but soon it will fade and we
will become weak.”

“The only way to release the spell was to find
Jillian’s descendant and create an heir? Is a baby a gift of peace?
I don’t understand.” Bronte rubbed her forehead.

“I went and visited the witch, demanding that she
release the curse, to leave my family out of it and I alone would
pay the consequences. She coldly told me that there was nothing she
could do to reverse the spell; however, she could make a deal or a
second chance of sort.”

“What did she offer?”

“She wanted a vial of my blood.” he said.

Bronte’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“So she could use it to look into my future.”

“Okay…I know I’m not educated in the ways of the
fantasy world, but she’s a witch. Doesn’t she have the capability
to mix any potions and produce any magic and do her bidding?
Couldn’t she just use a crystal ball and see everything?”

“You’ve read too many kid fairytales, Bronte.
Witches can only use magic when she is asked. She can mix up a
potion, yes, but that comes from natural resources. If she had the
power to use magic on anyone at her discretion, we’d all be
goners.”

She was quiet for a short time. “So you gave her the
vial?” He nodded. “And she did what?”

“She said she foresaw an heir between a dark-haired
lass, who Jillian lives through, and me. Once that happened the
curse would release and our lives would be in place again. My heir
would take my place as leader.”

“That’s what you meant by “not choosing me.’”

He looked at her from his perch by the window. “I
thought it would never come. Then you were born. I’ve waited until
you were ready. I had wanted to approach you many times, but fear
kept me away. When my body grew weaker, and it happened so fast,
you being brought here became the only way. I’m sorry that you were
forced to come here to my home.”

“You said your child will take over as leader. Do
you mean down the road?” she asked.

“Upon the day my child is born, he shall be marked
as the leader and my suffering shall end, and the curse will have
come full circle.”

“Roark…are you saying that you will die?”

“The witch said she saw my ending. That could only
mean one thing. And why so shocked, sweetheart? I have lived three
times longer than any human has. My life is coming complete. I
can’t complain.”

Her cry echoed off the walls. “But…but…I can’t allow
that to happen! There must be another way.” Tears moistened her
cheeks, making them shiny. “How do we know that the witch isn’t
lying?”

“True, she can’t be trusted, but I’ve known it
somehow all along. There’s no other way. Don’t you think I’ve had
plenty of time to ponder a solution?”

“We’ll figure one out.” She got up and paced the
floor. “There’s a way to release the curse. I know there is. We
have to start putting the puzzle together.” She stopped in front of
him, a wild gleam in her eyes. “Who do you think killed Jillian’s
father?”

He shrugged. “It remains a mystery.”

“The men who brought me here, Caleb, Miss
Deveraux…are they to be trusted?”

“Yes, they are.”

“I wish I could remember who stood on that cliff the
night Jillian’s father fell to his death. If only…” She started
walking again. “What if I can’t get pregnant? Will the spell be
broken upon conception? How much time is left before the spell can
no longer be broken?”

He lowered his gaze to her stomach. “All we can do
is hope.”

“You’re not answering the questions, Roark?”

“The spell will be released when our child is
delivered. There is ten months remaining.”

“This means I have to conceive immediately.” Her
tone chilled the air. “You could have taken me against my will long
ago. You waited, knowing it could be the demise of your
family.”

He held her gaze. “Bronte, I am and never have been
a bad person. I never wanted to hurt you, but there are so many
lives at stake in this. A true leader puts the well-being of
other’s before his own.” His breath caught in his chest. “But I
don’t want you to have a baby, not like this,” he said. “A baby
should be conceived out of love, not to release a spell.”

“Don’t get negative on me.” With a shrug of her
shoulder, she narrowed her gaze. “I need to know what happened to
Jillian.” Her voice was soft.

He didn’t like thinking back to that time. “She
died. That’s all that I can say.”

Bronte sighed. “The letter proves she realized what
she’d done but it was too late.”

“Nothing good comes of anger. She allowed it to
devour her kindness. Once the fury passed, she realized what she’d
done. She knew I’d never have hurt her father. I would never have
allowed any of my family to hurt her.”

“What about us?” she asked in a shaky voice.

“I must correct my mistake. Our chances of living
together will never come to play. What matters is that you are
going to be okay.”

Lowering to her knees at his feet, her pale eyes
filled with hope. It almost crushed him. “The love, Roark. It’s
strong in my heart. ” She took his hand and led it to her chest.
“The beat is stronger than ever and that’s because I am where I
belong, with you. I have no doubts.”