Wicked Pleasures

by Rhonda Lee Carver

  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.”<
br />
  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.”

  “Bronte, you don’t know what you’re saying,” he pleaded. He feared she too would be hurt.

  “I do. Our love was meant to be. Love can overcome anything.”

  “Wolves and humans don’t mix,” he said it in simple terms. “No matter what some people believe. Just as my mother was human and my father a wolf, he had to give up living as himself to be with her.”

  She pulled away slightly. “You’re part human. Doesn’t that mean anything?”

  Her words seemed to slam through his stomach. It’d be hard for her to understand, he knew. He wasn’t sure she ever would. “I’m not sure how I should, or could, answer you.”

  “Roark, this is our chance to demonstrate that wolves and humans can survive together. A baby will release the spell as proof. Azelda may be conniving but she is clever.”

  “It’s possible she just figured we’d fail,” he said.

  The corner of her mouth quivered. “Is that what you believe? If so, then why did you even bother trying?” She got up. She looked down upon him, her stare penetrating.

  “I have waited for this opportunity. I’m a fighter.”

  “If I’m pregnant, what then?” She placed her palms on her hips.

  “The baby will grow inside you, I will protect both of you and he will be born healthy.” He stood up. “My obligation is to guard you and our child.”

  “An obligation? Is that what I am now?” He could feel her anger radiating from every pore.

  “You know what I meant,” he said.

  “What comes next, Roark? After the baby is born?”

  “In terms of what?” Although he stood well above her, she didn’t seem even slightly frazzled of his overbearing height.

  “What happens after our baby is born?”

  He couldn’t hide the truth from her. Not any longer. Her mind grew stronger and it fed upon the facts like a charge of understanding. “You’ll be free.”

  Confusion washed over her features. Her jaw tilted and she became fierce. “Free? As in alone, without the baby?”

  “You don’t understand, Bronte.”

  “Damn right I don’t understand. What you’re saying is that I’m expected to carry your child and then walk away just as soon as he or she is born.”

  “Not right away. The child will need your body to nurture him until he is a few months old. But our child must live with my family. That is the completion.” He noticed the moisture in her eyes and he wished he would have been gentler in explaining the facts to her. There was no milder way, though. She was a smart woman.

  “I can’t do that.” She turned away from him. “I refuse to leave my child—our child.”

  He started to touch her shoulder but he didn’t know how he should comfort her. “It’s already written in stone. There’s nothing we can do to change the cycle. If I could, I would.”

  She twisted upon him, tears on her cheeks. “Would you, Roark? Are you saying that your heart speaks the truth of our love? Are you willing to let all of these feelings disappear? What sort of man tells a mother-to-be that she must carry a child, learn to love him, and give birth only to know that soon he’d be taken away.”

  “This is why we shouldn’t have a baby.” No matter what he said, it’d never make the pain any easier. She’d never logically comprehend why it must be done. “I do love you. There has never been another that comes close to how I feel for you. Yet, I can smile because we have been given a gift of love for one another, instead of being sad that the time is too short.”

  “This is completely insane. You sound like a Hallmark card and I think I’m going to throw up!”

  “A Hallmark card?”

  She waved him off. “I can’t accept that you will die.” Her tears were now flowing.

  “It was never our choice from the beginning. When the times come, you won’t even remember the loss. Your memory will disappear of me, us, and our child if one was conceived.”

  “Sure, I had no choice in this matter. But I don’t believe that this has only one ending. There must be something that I can do.” She wiped her eyes.

  It was hard to think, let alone talk. He forced his lips to move, saying what she needed to hear. “There isn’t anything, and I can’t take the risk that something will happen to you.”

  “If we don’t have a baby, you and your family will die.”

  ****

  Bronte heard Roark’s words, but she wouldn’t allow him to convince her that her hands were tied. She also knew without a single doubt, if she was pregnant, she’d never leave her baby. “If you wish to give up, go ahead. I refuse to. You don’t understand the moral of the spell any more than I do. You’re just willing to believe that this isn’t an opportunity for a future as a family,” she said.

  He took a step toward her and laid his hands on her shoulders. “You can’t blame yourself for this. We can’t get stuck on the unconstructiveness. We need to concentrate on the fact that you and I have this time together.”

  Not wanting to hear any more, she pulled away from his hold and went to the window. “What you’re suggesting, to accept fate, I cannot do. We need more answers.”

  His sigh bounced off the wall. “Then what would you like to do?”

  “Take me to Azelda. She knows how to solve this. I’ll go under the trance and she can help me remember.”

  “That can’t happen. Once was hard enough on your body. Twice could have fatal consequences.”

  “At least I can talk to her, plead for answers.”

  She watched as anxiety rolled across his features. He squeezed the bridge of his nose and shook his head. His gaze was suppliant when he looked at her. “I’ve talked to the witch until I thought I’d strangle her. She’s deceitful and only wants one thing from this. She wants to see her spell carried out.”

  Bronte shrugged. “I think she has a reason for all of this, beyond what you say of her intentions.”

  “Her work is not done until she has either destroyed my family or passed forth the specifics of the affliction. She could care less what happens in the end. It’s a waste of breath, and dangerous, to speak to the old hag!”

  His vulnerable expression, one she’d never seen, touched her. He said he wanted to protect her, and at the same time, she wanted to keep him safe too.

  Bronte went to him, taking his large hands into hers. She looked up into his intense stare. Their connection grew, and she became tougher. “Is there anything to lose in trying?” Her courage grew. “Take me to see Azelda. Let me talk to her.”

  He lifted a hand and swiped his fingers along her cheek. His eyes were moist and she wondered if he was overwhelmed in emotion just as she was. “As you wish, darling. I cannot say no to you. As my body grows weaker, my heart grows stronger. You’ll never know how much love I hold for you.”

  Chapter 12

  FOG BLANKETED THE area around Azelda’s and Bronte had to rely on memory of what the house looked like. The only sound she could hear was the crunching of her boots as they approached the dilapidated shack. Roark’s tense emotions bled into her as she walked by his side. She knew he came here only to appease her, but she’d accept that because she held hope in her heart. The love she had for him would be
enough to conquer the curse that plagued them.

  He hadn’t said more than two words to her since he’d agreed to bring her here.

  “I think you’re upset with me because I didn’t wear the riding outfit,” she said with a smile, hoping it’d be contagious, but his frown remained. “Come on, Roark. Lighten up.”

  He stopped and looked at her, his face softened slightly. He was a tough nut to crack. “I bought the riding outfit because you had a picture taken of yourself as a teenager wearing the shirt, breeches and boots. I thought you’d like the outfit, but I think the gift fizzled.”

  She laid her fingers on the bare skin of his arm. It wasn’t right that he knew so much about her and she knew so little about him. As she learned him, he amazed her. His kindness was wonderful. “I know the picture. My mom and I were at a charity. She bought me the outfit and I wore it with such pride. I felt all grown up. Yet, how did you see the picture?”

  “I saw the picture in your mind.”

  “I’m starting to understand that you see the things that hold a lot of emotion for me,” she teased.

  “I only use that connection when I need to,” he defended himself. “You accused me once of sneaking into your room and watching you sleep. I didn’t and never would. I kept my distance. Yet as I grew weaker and couldn’t leave the property to watch over you, I worried and I feared any of my enemies would harm you.” Concern etched line around his mouth.

  “You say that you’re weak, but you seem very powerful,” she said.

  “Even as a human I still have great strength and speed.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” she asked.

  He swept his knuckles across her cheek. “Everything has it’s moment, sweetheart.”

  “I think I’ll be sick.”

  Bronte almost jumped out of her jeans when she heard the cackled voice. She turned and came face to face with Azelda. Bronte’s heart raced but she held steady. “Azelda. It’s not nice to scare people.” Bronte took a deep breath to calm her unsettled nerves. The witch had a way of evoking every weakness.