Wicked Pleasures (19 page)

“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.

“If you two are done spitting sugar out your pie
holes, maybe you can tell me why you’ve disturbed my beauty
sleep.”

Roark’s snort snapped the cool air. Bronte clasped
his hand tighter. Pissing off Azelda wouldn’t make this any easier.
“We’re sorry we disturbed you, Azelda. We’ve come to speak to you
about something important.”

Azelda’s face was partially hidden underneath the
hood. Her toothless grin was visible. “You came to chit chat over
tea and crumpets girly?”

“I’ve come to ask questions about the spell,” Bronte
said.

The witch brought her wrinkled hand up and scratched
her chin with a black fingernail. “I’ve told you everything. Go
home,” Azelda stated tersely. She started wobbling toward the house
when Bronte caught up to her.

“We need your help,” Bronte urged.

Azelda stopped and glanced at Roark. “Only one of
you is in need of help.” She continued toward the porch. Bronte
knew she had to stay focused.

“I’m not leaving until we talk.” Bronte was
adamant.

“Bronte—” Roark stepped forward and Azelda lifted
her hand to keep him still. “The girl wants to speak. Well then,
who am I to deny a princess her request?”

“Thank you,” Bronte said.

“Time is precious. Follow me.” Azelda pointed at
Bronte who gladly followed. At the threshold of the door, Azelda
turned to Roark and stated through pursed lips, “Only
her
.”

Roark’s expression hardened. “That won’t
happen.”

Bronte stepped next to Roark. “It’s okay. I’ll be
fine.” She knew if Roark didn’t agree, Azelda wouldn’t talk to
her.

“You can’t do this, Bronte,” he insisted.

She nodded. “I can. Stay here.” She kissed his cheek
and gave him one last assured gaze before stepping into the lair.
The décor hadn’t changed and the stink was atrocious. The house was
lit with only a burning candle. Fear made Bronte tense, but she
moved on with courage she never knew she had.

As they entered the room where the cauldron boiled,
Bronte couldn’t resist asking, “What is that?” She stared down into
the murky liquid.

“Don’t get too close, girly. I just tossed the
alligator in an hour before you arrived. He’s not too fond of
becoming stew.”

Bronte jumped back and brought her hand to her
chest. “Oh my.”

“They make the best soup. I’d offer you some but it
may kill you,” Azelda said as she swayed toward the back of the
room to her potions. There were some things Bronte didn’t need to
know. This was one of them she was sure. She moved past the pot and
stood at the table.

Azelda was busy at her potion station and Bronte
didn’t want to disturb her. She waited patiently. Finally, Azelda
brought her head up. “What do you want? Have you come for a tonic
for the baby?” she asked.

Bronte swallowed the graininess in her throat.
“Baby?”

“You mindless women say you know your body, yet you
don’t know when it’s been implanted with seed. You spend too much
time demanding equal rights and privileges yet lose the insight of
a woman’s true rights.” Azelda shook her head, sending tendrils of
oily hair around her shoulders.

Reflexively, Bronte’s hand went to her stomach. “Are
you certain?”

“You don’t know?” Azelda asked. “Of course not. Yes,
you carry the wolf’s child. Congratulations on the fur ball.

“Will he be healthy?”

Azelda sniffed. “I see many years before this child.
She will lead her clan well.”

“She?” Bronte’s stomach twirled.

“Is there something wrong with girls?”

“No.” Bronte was overcome with emotion.

“So if that’s not what has brought you here then
what can it be? A potion for dark circles?” Azelda started for the
bottom shelf, perusing its contents. “Let me see here. I have just
the thing. It has rat turds and frog semen—”

“You know why I’m here,” Bronte stated sharply. “And
nothing to do with my looks, thank you very much!”

“Oh, that’s right—the curse that your stupid
ancestor brought down on everyone.” Azelda took a seat. “I warned
her, when one condemns her lover boy and his pack of dogs, nothing
good would result.”

“We all make mistakes. Jillian made one. Help me
correct it,” Bronte said.

“Impossible,” Azelda hooted.

“You’re lying.” Bronte didn’t care at this point if
she offended the witch. “You know a solution. I need to know what
can be done.”

Azelda’s haunting gaze settled on Bronte. “Be
careful what you ask for, girly. You keep muddling in the mess and
you’ll reap the disdain as the pale haired lass had. Yet, I see her
blood pours through your veins.”