Wicked Pleasures (21 page)

“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.