Wicked Pleasures (16 page)

In one quick motion, he pushed her onto her back and
lifted her legs over his shoulders. He braced her ass with his
hands and her pussy was face level. He bent his head and licked her
sweet juices from her soft skin—using his tongue like a wand,
twirling and whirling magic. She ground her lips against his as he
suckled her clit. Her moan echoed off the walls as she gripped the
sheet, her nails scraping and tearing at the fine fabric. The
connection became a heated frenzy and her warmth squirted into his
mouth as he drank her like sweet water to a parched man. When the
quivering in her loins stopped, he moved her legs and swiped the
back of his hand across his lips.

He braced himself above her. “Bronte?” Her eyes
opened and he stared down into pale beauty. “I won’t last
long.”

She brought her hands up and clutched his shoulders,
lifting her hips to meet his. The unspoken invitation was all he
needed. He buried himself inside her tight opening and he shook as
his body released.

He rolled beside her onto the mattress and pulled
her beside him. She was limp and he knew satisfied. “All I ever
want to do is bring you wicked pleasure,” he said.

Her gaze met his. “I’ve never known such
passion…such sweet, sweet agony.”

A tear slid from the corner of her eye and slid down
her rosy cheek. He wiped it with his thumb. “Why are you
crying?”

“I…I…don’t know,” she said through a sob.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked.

“No.”

“Did I do something you didn’t want me to?” He
lifted himself slightly as concern edged its way through him.

“No.” More tears fell.

“Then what, sweetheart?” He held her gaze. He
started to answer, but he couldn’t. He hadn’t cried in years, and
he wasn’t about to now. He didn’t want Bronte to see his weaker
side. Remaining strong was crucial, until the curse lifted and
those he cared for were safe.

“I’ve never felt so deeply, so overcome with joy.
Like I’ve been living outside of my body and now I’m back
again.”

If laughing was inappropriate, then he was entirely
out of line. He couldn’t help chuckling at her sweet emotions. He
laid his head back down and tucked her in the nook of his arm.
“Know one thing, it is my duty and my life’s work to protect you
and take care of you.”

“Roark, these are modern times. I can very well take
care of myself,” she said, sniffling.

“I’m sure you believe you can.” He slid up from
bed.

“Where are you going? You need to rest,” she
said.

He reached down and ripped off the bandage. “Looks
like I’m good to go.”

Chapter 10

BRONTE COULDN’T BELIEVE what she was seeing. Roark’s
wound was gone and there wasn’t even a glimpse of a scar. She
lifted herself up on her knees, careless of her nudity, and touched
his ribs. “Oh my…is that how it works? You heal like this when
you’re a wolf?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Not always. Some things can
never heal.”

“What?”

“Our heart.”

She watched as he went to the wardrobe and grabbed a
pair of jeans, sliding them up his long legs . “Is that what
happened? An enemy wolf attacked you?”

“I was overcome with emotion and alcohol. I was
caught unaware,” he said.

“Wolves don’t drink?”

“We can, but on rare occasions because we are
lightweights, so to speak.”

“And why were you emotional?” Her curiosity
grew.

“How many more questions do you plan to ask me?” One
brow lifted.

“Tons more. Is that a problem?”

He shrugged. “Depends. I may not be able to answer
everything.”

“Were you upset because I had left?” He blinked and
she knew her answer. “I didn’t want you to go out and get yourself
killed.”

He chuckled. “That wasn’t the plan.”

“Tell me, Roark. I need to know…”

“What?”

“You know what I’m asking,” she said.

He sat down on the edge of the bed. “I will tell
you. It’s time. The vision you had, the one of Jillian and I, the
night her father fell from the cliff. We were celebrating.” Bronte
swallowed and it seemed loud in the room. “We had married.”

A moan escaped her and she brought her palm up to
cover her mouth. Tears welled in her eyes. She dropped her hand to
her lap. “You and Jillian married?” Her heart sank.

“Bronte…do you not see the truth? You are Jillian.
Maybe not every aspect, but her spirit lives in you. I know this is
hard to understand, but I hold the same union with you. A wolf
mates for life, and as long as you and I are alive, we are
joined.”

His words struck her like a heavy weight? “What?
You’re right, I don’t understand.”

He got up, went to the nightstand and withdrew
something. “Read this.” He handed her a piece of paper.

Bronte took it but hesitated. She watched him
through blurred vision. Seconds passed until she finally opened it
and read the neat writing.

“
To my love. There are no words I could write to
prove how sorry I am for doubting you. I made a mistake and now
it’s too late. All I can ask is that one day you will find
forgiveness in your heart. I will forever and always love you. If
it’s true that love has more power than time, then I will find you.
I promise to return and make this right. Watch for the signs that I
have come and know love will survive. I’m writing you not to ask
for your pity, but to warn you of enemies who wish you harm. Beware
the—”

“It’s not finished. Is this from Jillian?” she
asked.

He stood at the window, naked and beautiful. “I
found it in her hand as she lay dying. I didn’t make it to her in
time. I grew to hate her for what she’d done to my family—to me. I
hated you, because I know she lives within you. But love and hate
are only divided by a thin line and once you came here, I lost my
wall of protection. We can’t allow our emotions to take over again.
I can’t
allow myself to rule with my heart again, but my
feelings are strong.”

She dropped the letter to the bed. “This is crazy,
Roark. I’m not Jillian. Yes, we are related, but I’m my own
person.”

“You choose not to remember. How can you deny the
visions you have? You say yourself that we are connected.”

“Maybe you’re hoping that I’m Jillian. You want your
lost love back,” she said. Her chest tightened.

“You and I are mated, that is the rule of my tribe.
We shall reproduce and this damn curse will lift. It is our duty to
fix what
we
wronged,” he said. He left the window. “Get
dressed and let’s go,” he said as he pulled on a shirt.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“You’ll see.”

“It’d be nice if just once you’d explain where we’re
going, why we’re going and not just throw out a command. I like
answers.”

“Questions later. Come now. We have work to do.”

“No, not until you answer me!”

“There’s no need for me to explain when you’ll find
out soon enough.” He didn’t wait for her response. “You’re coming
with me. If you say one more word I swear I’ll lock you in your
room for the remainder of today.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she angled her
chin and looked at him down her nose. “You wouldn’t dare! And I
know better. I’ve learned you, Roark. You’re not going to like it
when I know all of your secrets and weaknesses.”

“What makes you think you’ll know everything?”

“Just wait and see,” she said with a chuckle.

“You’re getting bold. I’m not sure if I should
congratulate you or show you who wears the pants.”

“That is a sexist remark. And if I thought you were
serious, I’d have a huge issue. A man and woman are equals.”

Scratching his chin, he sighed. “Truth is, I
wouldn’t want it any other way.”

“Wow…did we just agree on something?” She couldn’t
believe her ears.

“I believe so,” he said. “Now, in all seriousness,
we can walk and talk, right? We have pressing matters.”

Bronte went to her bedroom, dressed and followed
Roark outside. Once again, she was uncertain of what they were
doing or where they were going. She’d had enough surprises over the
last few days. And then he dumps on her that they’re married—or
rather, he married Jillian. The story only got crazier.

There were still a few loose ends.

Forcing Roark’s hand at telling her everything
wouldn’t work in her favor. She had a feeling he didn’t know all of
the details himself, and he’d had his heart broken once upon a time
which meant his history was a sore subject.

Her frustration grew. Why couldn’t she remember
everything Azelda had told her? Why was her mind fighting the
facts? As educated and cleaver as she thought she was, why couldn’t
she put the pieces together? Nothing made sense. Roark seemed
different than any man she’d ever met. They’d made love and it’d
been the most intimate lovemaking she’d ever experienced.

And he was a wolf…

Part wolf.

What would her friends think? They’d check her into
a hospital.

And then there was Gage. Before she’d been
kidnapped, she’d told him that she needed some time away from the
relationship. Before she could commit herself to a future with him,
she needed to figure out what her expectations were. Now, she
realized she didn’t love Gage. Probably never had. She couldn’t
possibly love Gage if she felt such strong emotion for Roark.

Her gaze tracked him as he walked in front of her.
She roved the brawny lines of his muscular form. He was different
than any man she’d ever known, and he wasn’t an ogre. The more she
knew about him, the more she understood that he was a man full of
emotion.

The letter opened channels to other truths.

She stopped walking. There was warning in the letter
Jillian had written…

Her throat tightened. Had Jillian been murdered? If
so, by who?

“Can you walk any slower?”

She brought her gaze upward and Roark had paused
also. “Can you be ruder?” she said. “Can’t you see I’m thinking
here?”

“Anything you’d like to share?” he asked.

“Jillian warned you of danger. Who was she talking
about?”

His gaze slanted. “If I knew he’d be dead.”

“The same wolf who attacked you last night and left
you for dead?”

“We’re on the same page,” he said.

“Is that what keeps you imprisoned here, within your
property?” she asked.

“I’m stronger here, and the only priority I have is
taking care of the curse, and you. It’s important that you stay
here, this is where you’re safe.”

“Why would I be unsafe?” she asked. “Is it because
the person who killed Jillian wants me dead as well because he
thinks I’m her?”

He pushed a hand through his hair and lines crinkled
at the corners of his eyes. “I’ve asked myself a hundred times
these same questions. I’ve watched over you, and not once have you
been unsafe—but I believe you could be now. I don’t think it’s you
they want dead though.”

“You think this person wants
you
dead?”

He nodded. “I believe Jillian would have told me who
she thought betrayed the clan, but he got there before she could
finish the letter.”

“So, if I’m Jillian, why can’t I remember who
murdered me, her, uhh…us?”

He snorted and continued walking. She stayed behind.
Her feelings for him crept up on her like insanity. She hadn’t
wanted to like him, and certainly didn’t want to love him.
Somewhere along the way the lines of rationality and probability
had blurred. He’d been her captor and he’d been mean to her…but not
really. He’d shown her kindness in many ways. He did have a
roughness, but it was only a thin layer deep.

Tears formed in her eyes. She was falling in love
with him.
Would her heart be broken?
Roark stopped and so
did she, leaving a few feet between them. Knowing he could read her
thoughts, she focused on the fact that they were standing by an
old, dilapidated barn that appeared to be held together by a
splinter and a nail.
Barn…Barn…Barn.
She continued the
mantra to keep her mind on track. It was no use.

“Bronte? Are you okay? Are you hurt?” he asked.

“I’m worried. Are my father and those who I care
about safe?”

“No one plays a significant role—”

“But Fallon, you made me contact her. Doesn’t that
put her at risk? I couldn’t bear to think of anything happening to
her.”

“If it means that much to you, I will have someone
watch her.”

She debated his offer. “Not Shelby, right?” she
asked.

“No, not Shelby,” he said. “I’m glad you say that
because I’ve already sent someone to protect her.”

“You have? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

He shrugged. “Because I didn’t know how you’d react.
Now stop worrying. Concern makes us unproductive. And it’s not fair
to tell me to take a flying leap, not even in your mind.”

Yeah, she guessed he still got a peek into her
thoughts. She was grateful when Caleb stepped out of the barn as a
diversion from further conversation with Roark. Caleb kept his gaze
steady on her as he moved the short distance to meet them. She
cringed. Roark took the man to the side and they spoke in a hushed
tone. A few minutes later, Roark came back and Caleb went back into
the barn.

“I know that expression? Who do you want to tear
apart now?” Roark asked.

“Who is he?”

“Caleb?”

“Yes, Caleb.”

“Why?” Roark answered briskly then started
walking.

“He’s a bit odd.” Bronte followed Roark around the
building. The breeze was picking up and she had to hold her skirt
down so it wouldn’t fly up. Goose bumps broke out on her skin.

“He’s not odd.”

“Of course, not when it’s coming from you. Odd could
be your middle name. Do you trust him?”

“With my life,” he answered.

She’d been staring out along the field and hadn’t
realized he’d stopped. She struck his iron hard back, nose first.
He didn’t budge. The crash sent her backward and onto her bottom
onto the thick grass. The hem of her skirt flew up to her hips and
she quickly pushed it down.