Wicked Pleasures (20 page)

Ignoring the witch’s reference to Jillian’s blood,
she continued. “So you’re fine with allowing innocent people to
die?” Bronte asked.

“Of course not.” She sniffed as if she were hurt.
“I’m not a killer. You’re pregnant; therefore the curse will
lift.”

“I’m talking about what you saw in Roark’s blood.
You saw his demise. Help me, Azelda. You must be as tired of this
spell as we all are.”

“What are you wanting?”

“Who are Roark’s enemies so that we can stop this.
They are who destroy him, right?”

Azelda’s gaze narrowed. “You seek justice because
you believe you can live with the wolf and the half-breed child as
a happy, loving family. Your dreams deceive you, child. It’s not
possible. You have human blood running through your veins. A hunter
of the night doesn’t belong with humans. Even if your Roark is half
human.”

“Then why is it that you told him we shall come
together and a child shall be born between us?”

Azelda hesitated. She seemed perplexed. “Your looks
are similar with Jillian, but there are many differences. She
easily sentenced the man she loved, yet vengeance isn’t in your
blood. The greatest loss I hear a parent suffers through is the
loss of a child. The child will be born and you will have paid the
biggest price for the wrongdoing of the past.” Her words were
whispered.

Bronte grappled with the truth. “Is that what this
is about? That I must make right what had happened years ago?”

“Each of us has a price we must pay.”

Tears threatened to fall but Bronte refused to let
the woman see her cry. “I won’t allow this to happen. I won’t leave
my child.”

Azelda broke into laughter, vibrating the walls.
“You believe you are stronger than magic, child?”

“Love will always overcome evil.” Bronte jumped up,
the seat went flying back and hit the wall in a loud bang. “I
didn’t choose the spell, but now I shall keep it from destroying
another person.”

“You have spunk. You’ll need it.” Azelda rose too.
She scooted to the pot and with the long wooden spoon, she stirred
the bubbly liquid. “Humans don’t understand that fate holds a
higher hand than magic. We don’t control life or death. We can only
control the path that takes one to the end. All I could offer
Jillian was a release from her pain.” She stared into the pot, as
if she could see directly into the past. “Just like when your
mother died. You thought there was something you could have done,
but there was nothing anyone could do.”

Bronte thought back to her mother lying in bed. Her
thin, frail body only an image of the beautiful woman she’d once
been. Bronte had grown scared to even approach the bed in fear of
seeing her mother in pain.

“Your sadness and anger settled into your bones like
an iron of torment. Upon her death, you became enraged. That gives
you an understanding of what the pale haired lass was feeling when
her father met his death.”

Bronte picked up the chair and sat back down before
her legs gave out. “I wouldn’t turn against Roark. Not for any
reason.”

“Easier said than done. Because Jillian’s father
feared he’d lose Jillian as he had his wife, insanity got the best
of him. He couldn’t even manage his affairs. His once thriving
business suffered. He’d made foolish decisions and he was heading
for doom. He made a pact with a young gentleman who was fancy on
manipulation.”

“A pact?” Bronte asked.

“The devil wears many shades of color, child. And so
does the wolf. He doesn’t always wear big teeth and fur as you
certainly know.” Azelda stopped stirring, but she still stared into
the cauldron.

“I need to know everything Azelda,” Bronte
urged.

The aged woman went back to her chair and sat down.
“The young gentleman warned Jillian’s father that she was being led
down a wrongful path. The man promised her father that if he could
have her hand in marriage, he’d keep her safe from harm’s way and
the father’s financial woes would simply vanish. In dire straits,
the father agreed.”

Bronte’s mind spun with the details. “With what
man?”

Azelda didn’t seem to hear. “Her father realized
he’d made a huge mistake. He recanted the pact, yet he was fearful
of his daughter’s relationship with the unsavory pack of wolves. He
followed her that night. Little did he know that the manipulator
held great anger toward the father for renouncing the
engagement.”

Realization struck Bronte like a lightning bolt of
knowledge. “The manipulator was a wolf too. He attacked Jillian’s
father then pushed him off of the cliff, right?”

“The others, they did not know that one of their own
held such an evil spirit,” Azelda whispered.

Bronte scooted to the edge of her seat. “The
manipulator you speak of, he was part of the wolf family. That
means the spell was placed on him as well.”

Azelda nodded. “You are powerless in this matter,
girly.”

Bronte tried putting the pieces together. “But you
can help me right a wrong.”

Azelda giggled behind her hand. “People think I find
fortune in another’s misdeeds. The pale haired beauty wanted
revenge, but love clung to her heart. I gave her what she truly
wanted—a second chance. If her heart was strong enough she’d come
again, to love a man who’d held her in his heart for many years. A
child brought into this life with the blood of Roark and the blood
of Jillian’s descendant would be the key to peace. Yet, there is no
peace for a heart that holds great anger.”

“Are you talking about Roark’s anger?”

“Look inside your heart, girly. The answer is
there.” Azelda clasped her hands in her lap.

“Why are you being so vague, Azelda? You’re talking
in riddles.” Bronte’s frustration grew.

Azelda squinted. “When the time comes all truth will
be revealed.”

“The wolf that killed Jillian’s father, is he still
a threat?” Bronte asked. Her time with the witch was coming to an
end and she still had so many questions.

“His hatred is great for Roark. To this day it runs
like the fire of a volcano flowing through his veins. He wishes for
Roark’s success to crumble. And he has followers who will do his
evil bidding”

“Why is there such great hatred?” Bronte asked.

“Some men are dangerously malicious and jealousy
sparks them into insanity. Roark is the prince of the pack, the
true leader of all time. By sentencing Roark to unyielding pain and
suffering, he will be brought to his knees. Roark will walk away
and forever be destined to unhappiness, right up until his
death.”

“Roark’s safety is in jeopardy and his death looms.
And so are mine and our child’s.” Bronte’s fear made her stomach
turn.

“Wolves and humans still have no place as one. Roark
understands this. He will send you away. He carries the scars of
the past.”

“What do I do, Azelda? How can I protect Roark and
our unborn child? Because if they don’t want Roark as their leader,
they would feel the same about his child.”

Azelda blew out a long, ragged breath through thin
lips. “Only you have the strength, girly. Roark wields great
command, but you child, you can destroy evil. This is your destiny.
Roark has only one goal now and it is to keep you and the unborn
safe. The baby you carry has made you resilient, more than you
understand. Your child is safe until she is born.”

“If I destroy the evil, then my child’s life will be
safe, right?”

“But you won’t destroy evil. It’s strong and is on
the prowl.” Azelda’s voice was dangerously low. “I was in love once
myself. I thought I could change what people thought, but it’s
impossible. He was killed by a jealous and wicked man. And this is
what anger and resentment gets us.” She swept her hand through the
air.

“Then you understand love, Azelda.”

“All too well.” She seemed to drift into
thought.

“Hear me well, Azelda, I will save Roark and my
baby. All I need is for you to give me a name.”

Azelda cackled. “Are you a brave girl?”

Bronte looked her directly in the eye. “Try me.”

“You’ll need this.” Azelda got up and took a glass
bottle from the top shelf. “Drink it and you’ll have all of your
answers.”

Bronte took the bottle but didn’t make a move. “Why
would I drink this?”

“Do you want your answers?”

“I can’t trust you. And if you plan to harm this
baby—”

“Scrabblenuts! Do I need to pinky promise that I’m
not going to hurt you?”

“Is this a concoction of rat turds?”

“No, only tree bark and a few secret ingredients,
which none are from a rat,” Azelda said.

In the scheme of things, Bronte had no choice but to
trust Azelda. Uncapping the container, Bronte downed the liquid. It
burnt all of the way into the pit of her stomach. “Let’s get this
started,” Bronte said.

She got up and left Azelda, Bronte’s thoughts flying
through her mind. Roark must have sensed her confusion because he’d
asked a hundred times on their way home if she was okay.

They walked through the front door and she turned to
Roark, “I need some time alone to gather my thoughts.” He agreed.
She climbed the stairs alone and went to her bedroom.

Bronte climbed into bed. She couldn’t understand why
she was exhausted and her mind swirled around Azelda’s words. She’d
told her that the answers were all inside her heart. Bronte thought
that was ludicrous considering not one thing made sense, but
instead became more baffling.

Damn potion!
It didn’t do anything to help
her memory. The witch had lied.

Her heart sank. She was no closer to the truth and
Roark was in danger. Their unborn child was in jeopardy. She
couldn’t sit back and allow a one hundred year old curse to take
away the man she loved.

She loved him!

Her brain became fuzzy.

Closing her
eyes, she drifted to sleep.

Chapter 13

ROARK WALKED INSIDE his den and wasn’t surprised to
see Shelby sitting at the desk, his feet propped on the corner.
“Comfortable?”

Shelby dropped his feet to the floor and stood up.
“It seems I’ve run into a slight problem, Roark.” Shelby rounded
the corner.

“Yeah? Is that right?”

“I think you know what I’m referring too.”

“Enlighten me,” Roark said as the hair on the back
of his neck lifted.

“The blood in the vial wasn’t the woman’s. It was
yours,” Shelby said.

“You wanted to run her blood to see if she is
pregnant.”

Shelby laughed and Roark wanted to tear him to
shreds. “I guess the cat’s out of the bag, but honestly, I didn’t
check it. The witch did.”

“The traitor has been found out. I guess I found out
what I needed to know. The blood of Jillian and her father stains
your hands and I shall see that you pay for the crime,” Roark took
a step forward.

“Not so fast, friend. Aren’t you curious if your
beloved is pregnant?” Shelby asked.

“It no longer matters. My concern is you.” Roark
clenched his hands into fists, ready to attack.

“I’m not the one who killed Jillian, or her father,”
Shelby said.

Roark looked into Shelby’s eyes and saw truth. “Then
who?” His throat hurt as he spoke.

Thwack!

Roark fell to his knees in pain. Someone had hit him
from behind. Then another shot came to his back, splintering
through his body and he dropped to his stomach
. He couldn’t die!
Bronte needed him!

“I did. I killed them.”

Roark heard the voice but didn’t recognize the man.
He tried lifting his head but a boot to the middle of his back made
him cringe in agony.

“Your time as leader has come to an end, Roark,”
Shelby said.

****

Bronte stirred. A strong feeling came over her like
she was being watched. She stretched and fluttered her eyes open,
expecting to see Roark standing above her. It was the burly man
who’d kidnapped her from her office.

She jumped up from the bed. “What are you doing in
here? Get out!”

“I’m Shelby. Do you remember me?” the man asked.

“You came into the building where I work and you
kidnapped me.” She couldn’t control the bitterness in her voice.
Disgust filled her as she looked at him. This was Roark’s friend,
but she knew him as the one who grabbed her, and knocked her out.
She didn’t trust him. Her instinct warned her that he meant her
harm.

“Don’t be afraid. I’m not here to hurt you,” he said
in a calm tone.

Taking a step back, she cringed. He seemed sincere
enough, but she wasn’t falling for the sweet smile and twinkle in
his eye. To her he was the devil in disguise. She went to the door
and peeked down the hall. Shelby was alone and that was odd. “Why
are you here? Where is Roark?”

He stuffed his hands into his front pockets and
sighed. “Roark sent me alone. He wants me to take you home,” he
said.

“Is this a joke? He’d never send me away like
this.”

“That’s his request,” Shelby said.

Bronte stayed by the door. “Tell Roark I want to
speak to him,” she demanded.

Shelby hesitated before saying, “He doesn’t want to
see you. He made that clear.”

Swallowing the tightness in her throat, she blinked
back tears.
Why would he send her away?
“I—I can’t leave—,”
she said.

“Because you’re pregnant? He knows this
information.”

How did he know?
Azelda had said his only
focus now was to keep her and the baby safe. So then why would he
risk her leaving?

Her heart skipped a beat. Didn’t he care for
her?

“Roark is looking out for your best interest. He
believes you’ll be safer away from here and at home,” Shelby said
as he moved in front of her, blocking her path to the door.

“I don’t believe you. I want to speak to him. Now!”
She started to push past him but he grabbed her elbow. He was a
brawny man, bigger even than Roark. Fear slid its way through
her.