“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.
“I’m sorry, Bronte.” His jaw tightened.
“Leave me alone,” she said through tight lips. “I bet he doesn’t even know you’re here!” She backed up but he continued to come closer.
“I can’t leave, sweetheart.”
Her adrenaline spiked. Darting a glance around the room, she looked for any means of escape. Even if she could get to a window first, they were locked. “Where is Roark? Did you do something to him?”
His sinister chuckle tore through her. “You’ve fallen in love. Poor thing, they all do. He has the charm, but when will human whores see that wolves can do better with their own kind.”
Anger snaked through her. “You bastard! What have you done?”
Shrugging a broad shoulder, he took another step toward her. “You haven’t disillusioned yourself into believing you have a life with Roark, have you? And here I thought you were smarter than that twit Jillian. Humans…If they used more than a quarter of their brain they’d be dangerous. And because we know that’ll never happen, our species is safe.”
He taunted her and she refused to sink. “You killed Jillian’s father!”
“I’d like to take credit for that clever deed, but no, I didn’t kill the old man. You could say that I’m gaining from Roark’s misfortune though. When you’re a fierce leader like him it’s only natural to have enemies. Fortunately, your presence makes him stupid. He’s willing to do anything to keep you safe.”
“How do you know about the baby? Or do I need to ask? You followed us to Azelda’s.”
“No, I didn’t follow you, but I knew where you were heading. I did pay the old hag a visit. I will say, it was clever of you to drink a potion that prevents harm to the bastard child. It doesn’t matter, I don’t give a damn about the kid. I’ll get what I want because the brat will be born. I’ll live because the curse will be lifted and our power will reign again.”
Bronte quickly put the puzzle pieces together. The potion she’d drank at Azelda’s had been to protect the baby. The witch had known what was going to happen. “You’re insane!”
“I’d deny that accusation, but facts are facts. I’ve got to give Roark credit. You actually slept with him.” He shook his head. “How does it feel to be under a spell of loving someone who only wanted to knock you up?”
“It’s not a spell. It’s called love. I’d ask if you’ve ever heard of it, but chances are no woman could look at you, let alone love you.”
“Love?” he scoffed. “Would you call it love when a man has one intention with a woman? He would’ve kept you locked away in this princess prison and once the brat was born he would have tossed you out quicker than a snap.” He clicked his fingers as if to drive home his words.
“You’re a liar. I know Roark. I know what his intentions are. You’ll say anything!” Shelby reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out Roark’s journal.
“What are you doing with that? Roark didn’t give that to you.”
“Hang onto your panties, lady. I knew you’d sing Roark’s praises so I needed proof. Let me read you his last inscription dated—”
“I don’t want to hear anything from you.”
“Don’t hear it from me. You read it.” He tossed the book at her feet. She hesitated, not wanting to allow this evil man to draw her into his lies. Pushing the book with her toe, it opened and she picked it up, thumbing to the last writing and read…
“The plan is complete. An heir will be born. Bronte will never understand that I must send her away. How do I convince her? I will have to force her to understand…”
Tears blurred her vision. She didn’t want to give Shelby the satisfaction. She ran into the bathroom and closed the door, locking it behind her. She heard rustling outside followed by a loud thump. “Open the door, Bronte,” Shelby demanded.
“Go away!” Her words were weak. She had no hiding place.
“Do we have to make this so difficult?” He thumped the door again. “You should be grateful. I gave you the proof of Roark’s objective.”
Bronte desperately searched the sink and drawers, looking for a form of defense, knocking things over and onto the floor as she searched in frenzied haste. The pounding grew louder. He was beginning to yell. She went for a can of hairspray just as the door splintered.
Shelby stood behind her and she turned. His eyes were hard and slanted, his jaw was clenched. His hands were in balls of tension at his sides. “Roark will kill you,” she said in a hoarse whisper.
The man laughed and the harsh sound zapped the oxygen from the room. “Roark has become weak since you were brought here. He sees only what helps others and not himself. He’d die to save the unborn child.” His red shot eyes fell to her stomach.
“Why are you doing this? The curse will be lifted and you can go your own way. Roark will never have to know that you and I had this conversation.”
He sighed, as if the world had been lifted from his shoulders. “I grew up in Roark’s shadow. I was always one step behind him. I kept his side, adoring his gallant valor just as everyone did. I stayed by his side even as he ruled. Then one day my brother got into a fight with a human. The drunken man was killed and my brother ran from the scene. He looked to Roark for help, but instead of protecting his own, he shunned him from the clan for my brother’s act of violence.”
“So your feelings are out of vengeance?” Bronte asked, her fingers tightening around the can she held behind her back.
“Peace means nothing when you don’t defend your own. The human’s death was an accident.” Shelby’s upper lip curled. “I swore retribution. Then he announced to the family that he was in love with a human. A human!” He laughed and it was full of rage. “I couldn’t believe that our family allowed him to make this choice. Why wasn’t he shunned for the betrayal of his kind? Yet, I was clever. I knew the best way to weaken a man, wolf or human, was to start at the heart. I knew another who had more hatred for Roark than I. Gunner wanted Jillian for himself and it didn’t take much for me to convince him to persuade the father that she was in a dangerous affair with a wolf.”
“You are Roark’s friend. How could you do this to him?”
Shelby’s snort cracked the air. “If the fucking bitch hadn’t gone to the old hag and begged for her help, we’d had our wishes come true. I would have gained power in the human world, while the clan would have suffered from losing their precious Roark, and using their vulnerability I would have been their savior. Even the slime ball Gunner would have had his princess tart.”
“But why kill Jillian’s father?” Bronte stepped back, pressed against the sink.
“I planted the seed inside Gunner’s head that the father should know of Jillian’s love interest. I knew what Gunner would do, and if her father died at the hand of a wolf, Jillian would never forgive us. She was enraged with Roark. All in all, Jillian was a weak, good for nothing female. I still don’t understand why Roark loved her. How does it feel, sweet, sweet Bronte to fuck the man who loved, and will always love, your dead ancestor?” He wiped the sweat from his brow. “I bet a dead woman is hard to compete against. I wouldn’t mind having you in my bed. Not only are you easy on the eyes, but you have a feisty spirit that makes my dick hard.” He reached out and to touch her and she slapped his wrist. His laughter bounced off of the walls. “Exactly.”
“Don’t ever touch me!” A bitter taste
stung the back of her throat.
“Rest your pretty head. I wouldn’t waste my time, not when everything I’ve ever wanted is falling into my web.”
“You’re a pitiful coward. Your deceit will come back on you.”
“Like karma?” He shook his head. “Roark is the one who deserves a taste of fate. He betrayed his clan and yet they still hold him in high standards. Roark doesn’t deserve a second chance at leading our people. He sure as hell doesn’t deserve a descendent.” His cold gaze dropped to her stomach. “Now the brat will be raised by another. Roark would never have stood for that, so he had to go. I’ve seen that Roark pays dearly just as Jillian had.”
Chills raced through Bronte. She controlled her emotions. “What? How did you make Jillian pay?” Bronte needed to know every detail. Roark’s life, as well as the baby’s, could depend upon her knowledge.
“Gunner took care of her.”
“You’ll never get by with this. Love conquers evil,” Bronte mumbled.
Shelby smirked. “Not in this case.”
“What do you want, Shelby? Hasn’t your family suffered enough?”
“Roark could have never suffered enough to make amends for his disloyalty to his family. This is your chance to leave—and keep your baby.”
“Roark will kill you!” she said.
“I’ve handled Roark.”
“You have no power over him. He’s stronger than you,” she said. Shelby stepped closer. She could see a wide scar on his forehead and his strong scent constricted her throat. He stared down at her with an evil gaze.
“Still defending a man who cares so little for you. Where is he now? If he loves you so much, why isn’t he here protecting you? Maybe I should keep you; however, you certainly were a virus that took away his mental strength.”
Anger bubbled inside of her. Before she thought her actions through, she pulled the can out from behind her and sprayed it in his face. He brought his hand up to his eyes and coughed. With little time to spare, she slid past him and started for the door, but he caught her arm before she could make it to the bedroom. His fingers dug into her skin and she tried to disengage his hold but he jerked her hard against his chest. She bit back a sob.
“Don’t you see, silly woman, you have no defense here.” His upper lip curled. She could see he was losing his patience.
“Yes, I do. I carry the baby that will save your ass from death. I’d say that’s huge protection. And the potion Azelda gave me, I drank it. You hold no threat over this child!” Bronte had no clue how the potion worked, but she knew enough that Shelby couldn’t destroy her child.
“Right, Bronte. I can’t hurt one hair on your child’s head, but I can do whatever I like with you.” He slid his finger along her cheek, down her neck and over her chest, stopping at the top of one breast. “I could keep you for my pleasure. Too bad you’re useless to me now that Roark has touched you!” He let her go so quickly that she fell against the wall.
Bronte straightened her spine. As much as she hated to admit defeat, she had no choice. “What have you done with Roark?
“You’ll never have to worry your pretty little head. He doesn’t want you, believe me.”
“And you’re telling me that all I must do is walk away?”
A satisfied smile curved his thin lips. “That’s all.”
“If I say no?”
“You may eventually like being my entertainment.”
Disgust made goose bumps appear on her arms and with bravery she didn’t have, she looked him straight in the eye. “Over my dead body.”
“Hmm…if only that could be arranged,” he said.
“Mark my words, this isn’t the end.” She realized she didn’t have a choice. Leaving meant keeping safe. Roark would find her, she knew he would.
His wicked laughter made her blood curl. She moved past him, felt his hand on her shoulder. Heaviness crawled over her. Everything went dark. The last thing she heard was Shelby saying, “Don’t fight it.”
Chapter 14
ROARK FORCED HIS eyes open. Every muscle of his body ached and his head felt like it would explode. Where the hell was he? He glanced around the room—he was in the basement, lying on the cold, cement floor. Then it all came back to him…
He’d had an encounter with Shelby, but who had struck him from behind? He didn’t have a clue.
Then a second thought came to mind. Bronte!
He had to get to her.
A searing pain ripped through him when he attempted to get up.
How could he have missed the facts from the beginning? Shelby had betrayed him. A coward…
And whoever was in with Shelby would die right along with him.
Anger blasted through him. He knew Bronte’s safety was in danger. He had to get out of the basement. He glanced around his surroundings and listened closely—he was alone, for now.
He jerked his arms, not caring that his arms felt like they’d fall off. He didn’t feel anything but rage as one thought burrowed into his mind. He would keep Bronte safe.
“Mr. Roark!”
He searched the space. Miss Deveraux was lying close to the stairs. She was sitting up at her waist and her palm was pressed against her temple.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I…I think so. I was hit over the head.” She tried standing but she fell back to the floor.
“Don’t move,” he said.
Roark pushed himself up until he was standing. He was a little unsteady, but he managed to control his wobbly knees.
Forcing his muscles to cooperate, he set his course of action. He made his way to her, dropped to his knees beside her and examined her head. “There’s a gash, but you’ll be okay. Did Shelby do this?” She nodded. “Figures.”
“What happened to you? What did he do?” she asked.
“I don’t know what the poison was they shot into me, but thankfully they were off on its potency. But I have to go. I must get to Bronte. I know she’s in danger.”
“Go, Mr. Roark. I’ll be fine. Help her,” Miss Deveraux’s eyes filled with tears.
“I will. I promise.”
He stood up and made his way to the far wall. Giving the wood a tap with his boot, the wall popped out, exposing a metal door. He pressed his thumb against the glass and a red light flashed. “Wolf’s Lair,” he said into the speaker.
The lock clicked and the door opened.
He stepped inside the room and pulled the string hanging down from the ceiling. The dim light came on. He moved around the stacks of gold and found what he was looking for—a bow and silver-tipped arrows. Grabbing a flashlight and a container, he hurried out of the room, closing it and verifying that it was locked and secure.
Roark went back to Miss Deveraux who was now sitting on a wooden chair, appearing dazed. “Are you okay to help me?” he asked.
“I can try.” She lifted her hand, squinted, then cried out. “I think I have a broken rib, but it’ll heal fast.”
“Here, keep your arms lowered.” He turned his back to her and lowered on his haunches. Unbuttoning his shirt, he tore it from his body. “I need you to pour this on the site of the wound.” He handed her the vessel.
“But…but…”
He understood her concern. The salve was a dangerous potion that could kill a wolf if not administered correctly and in the right amount. “I believe the poison used on me was aloe.” For wolves, it was toxic. “It’s okay Miss Deveraux. The root ointment will seep into my body and help. This is the only way. I’ve got to get to Bronte before it’s too late.”
“Forgive me, Mr. Roark.” She uncapped the vessel.
As she wiped the salve onto his skin, the heavy scent of burning flesh singed his nose hairs. He concentrated on the one thing that filled every void—Bronte. He loved her. Would she ever understand the depth of his emotions? If anything would happen to her...
“There,” Miss Deveraux said.
Roark bit through the pain in his muscles. He turned to her. �
��Listen well, you need to get out of the house. Do you remember the underground tunnel that takes you out to the west side of the property?” She nodded. “Go, now!” He helped her to her feet. She was unsteady but he knew she’d gain her strength back soon.
“What about you?” she asked, holding the side of her head. Her apron was torn and bloody.
“I’ve got to go and find Bronte. I’m hoping she’s here. Be safe and only trust Caleb. Okay?”
Once Miss Deveraux was in the tunnel, Roark raced for the stairs. At the top, he slowed and pushed through the door into the dark hallway. He listened, but the house was quiet. He sensed that Shelby was waiting. Every instinct honed on his surroundings as he crept quietly through the shadows. Then he smelled his enemy and he followed the trail of stink.
Roark stepped into the den, clutching the bow tight in his hands. The fire was blazing and Shelby sat on the chair, the golden light making him look like a statue. The only movement in his body was the tightening of his jaw.
“Bravo, Roark. I had a feeling you’d recover. I’ll take care of the witch later for betraying me. I should have known she didn’t give me enough poison. Over the years I think she’s grown to like you, Roark, like most females.” He shrugged. “No reason to sulk over something that I can’t change.”
“Then you realize your fate,” Roark said as he moved to the middle of the room.
“Not so fast, my old friend. Let’s talk.”
Roark gripped the plastic tighter. “Fuck you. Where is Bronte?”
“Don’t worry. She is taken care of.” Shelby said. “Now, I have something to say.”
“Go ahead, but understand your death looms.”
Shelby laughed. “Your seed has been planted in the woman. Congratulations, daddy!”
Roark straightened his back and his blood rushed. “Why Shelby? Wasn’t it enough for you to see the curse lifted and then I would have met fate’s doom?”
Shelby cocked his head. “I guess I entertained the thought of playing a role in your demise.” He tapped his fingers on the leather material of the chair. “Just as I thought. The seed in that woman makes everything different. The look on your face was priceless.”
Wicked Pleasures Page 16