ROMANCE: Awakened by the Alpha Bear (Werebear Fantasy Billionaire Romance) (New Adult Contemporary Alpha Male Bear Shapeshifter Paranormal Romance Short Stories)) (31 page)

Chapter Ten

With
heart pounding heavily, not knowing what secrets there were in that ancient
manuscript, she hesitantly picked it up. The thick book was about eight inches
wide by eleven inches in height and bound by what seemed like large threads. It
was the method of binding books in the middle ages, and this piqued her
interest even more. Around the edges were a darker shade of brown than the
center of the pages, and she carefully turned to the first page.

Absently,
her hand touched the pendant on her necklace. It was something she did when she
was unsure or nervous about something. In this case, she was experiencing both.
She wasn’t sure whether or not she should be reading the book, and she was
nervous about what she would find.

When
she was about eight years old, she used to have nightmares after her
grandmother passed away. She’d spent most of her childhood with her
grandparents when her own mother had passed. One night, her grandfather pulled
the necklace with a pendant that looked like a liquid rainbow in a tiny vial,
placed it around her neck, and told her that no evil could harm her while she
wore it. She’d worn that pendant ever since.

Now, as
she turned the page, a small twinge of fear gripped her. She rubbed the pendant
between her thumb and index fingers absently, and started reading. The first
entry of the diary was dated 1642, and the name in it was Bronte Petrakis, the
son of an Archduke of Greece. Silene stopped reading for a moment and turned
the book over, thinking that perhaps this was some sort of fiction. It
definitely did not look like a novel, and this was Bronte’s handwriting, she
knew it well.

He
started making the notes after consulting a seer about his curse. She stopped
for a moment at the word curse to take a deep breath. She also wondered if one
of Bronte’s hidden talents was writing fiction. He certainly had many talents
and has been around the world.

 She
continued reading, as the seer told him that he should make a record of what
has happened to him so that he may figure out how to break this curse. His
account of how he was cursed was mind boggling to her. She had no idea that
such things existed or that people could actually live for three and a half
centuries.

“Oh
God, I made love with a three hundred year old man!” She shrieked.

The
book fell from her hands, which started to shake, while the blood drained from
her face. Silene felt faint, but the terror she felt was more intense and it
compelled her to want to leave the mansion. She picked up the diary and ran
from Bronte’s study to the room she occupied and packed up her things.

It took
nearly twenty minutes for the cab she called to get there. Not wanting Bronte
to know she’d found out his identity, she left him a note saying that she had
something important to take care of at home and that she would be alright.

She was
also certain that the thing stalking her had to do with his adversary, Hilda.
She was scared. However, now that she knew, perhaps she could handle it better.
She just had to make sure to secure all exits before going to bed and perhaps
keep the lights on. The thing had disappeared when she switched on the light,
so maybe it was scared too, at least that’s what she hoped.

When
she arrived home, though frightened, she continued reading Bronte’s account of
his demise and failed attempts at lifting such a damnation. It was shocking
detail after detail about how Hilda inhabited the body of his fiancé in order
to marry him. When that failed, she captured him and placed the dragon curse on
him.

By the
time she was done reading the accounts of the last three hundred years, Silene
was certain she was in a dream. At this point, she had an idea how dangerous
Bronte was or could be. His account of fighting off other creatures in order to
stay alive was horrifying. There were also accounts of him facing Hilda and
staving her off, to a certain degree.

She was
about to close the book of terrors when she noticed something. It was written
at the bottom of every page in quotes, something she’d seen in the first few
pages. She went back to the page where he recounted his time in a cave when
Hilda cursed him. It was the last thing she said to him.
“This thy curse
shalt not remain, when the rarest of flowers thou has obtained.”

According
to the book, he searched for centuries to find the flower but can’t. Silene
surmised that Hilda was only using the word flower to confuse Bronte so he
could not find the cure. She put the book in a cupboard and tried to get what
she read out of her mind. She knew that Bronte would come looking for her when
he returned from his meeting and she wasn’t in his castle, so she had to
compose herself and pretend nothing was off. She was now sure that his home
reminded him of the one he lost three hundred years ago, that’s why he bought
it.

She
took a shower and washed her hair, after which she made herself some pasta, not
that the food would go down. There were so many emotions running through her
now, confusing the hell out of her. She was terrified of Bronte but at the same
time worried about him. She was also hurt that he hid this from her, yet
understood that he could not tell her. She wanted to be with him. However, the
thought of being with him made her cringe.

The
idea that the creature was making love to her all this time made her skin
crawl, but as she remembered his kisses and caresses, she felt herself grow hot
with need. Her nipples hardened at the memory of his lips, and she felt a
violent rush of moisture leave her vagina. Somehow, the thought of it all
awakened something deep within her, though her mind fought against it.

“What
am I to do? We just got close again.”

By 5
PM, her phone started ringing. At first, she thought she would ignore it, but
she knew he would come knocking down her door if she didn’t pick up. She
cleared her throat, took a deep breath, and picked up the phone.

“Hello?”
She answered brightly.

“Silene,
where are you?” Bronte anxiously asked.

“I’m
home, didn’t you get my note?” She asked, still in her bright cheery voice.

‘Why
didn’t you wait for me?” He asked. “Are you sure you’re alright? I don’t want
you to be alone.”

“I’ll
be fine Bronte. Don’t worry. I’m not scared anymore,” she reassured him. She
did her best to sound confident and hoped he would buy it.

“Are
you sure? I’m coming over…,” he was saying, however, she stopped him in
mid-sentence.

“No
Bronte. I’ll see you in the office tomorrow. I’m fine… really,” she stated
firmly.

“Okay,
but call me if you need me and secure the doors and windows,” he warned.

“Yes,
sir!” She replied to his command.

She
sighed when he hung up. It would have been awkward if he’d come over. She had
no idea how to deal with the knowledge she had of him or how to act around him.
A part of her wanted to run away and the other part of her wanted to rescue
him.

She
picked up the book again and read it through once more, taking in every detail.
The answer must be in there somewhere
, she thought. How can it not be?
Did the witch lie to Bronte about him finding a cure for his curse?

She
took a piece of paper and wrote the parable on it, hoping to be able to figure
it out. Nothing came to mind. The only thing a search on the internet yielded
was a list of rare plants. She didn’t even look through the list because Bronte
had already stated that he’d tried all the rarest plants in the world and nothing
worked.

She
snapped the lid of her laptops shut, “Why am I doing this? He’s a creature for
God’s sake! I have to stay away from him.”

* * * *

“What?”
Bronte voiced incredulously. “What do you mean the material is inferior?”

He was
talking to building inspector Pete, who was called to determine the cause of
the accident the following day, Monday. The man was about five feet eight
inches with thinning blonde hair and soft brown eyes. Bronte looked at him with
his protruding tummy, tight plaid shirt rolled up at the sleeves, and shirt
tails tucked into his jeans.

Pete
frowned, “You see these?” He pointed to the beams which held up the part of the
roof that hadn’t collapsed. “These are supposed to be two and three quarters
thick, but see?” He pulled out a measuring tape measure and placed it next to
the width of the wood. “It’s only two and a quarter.”

The man
moved along and beckoned to Bronte. “Are you telling me that my contractor
messed up and used the wrong material?”

The man
sighed and brushed his fingers across his short beard. “This, isn’t the
standard wood used for constructing buildings. This is generally used to make
furniture.”

Bronte
shook his head in disbelief. If the inspector was right, there was no way this
kind of wood would hold up the concrete decking. The inspector pointed out that
Chery had a hardness of two on a scale of one to five. Woods used for building
should have a minimum hardness of four, but ideally, a five is recommended.

The man
pointed out several other flaws and asked Bronte to have them fixed or his
permit may be revoked. Pete advised him to get a certified contractor
recommended by the city council rather than independent workmen. He gave him a
number to call to get the list. He said, this way, they would be held
accountable by the city, and they lose their license if they do anything like
what his contractor did.

After
the inspector left, he called a meeting with the contractor. The man was
clearly terrified. Luckily for him, Bronte was in a reasonable mood and was
anxious to get back to the office to see Silene. He hadn’t seen her since the
previous morning and was extremely worried about her.

 Fortunately,
it was early in the day when the incident happened, and they’d just started
pouring concrete on the first floor decking. No one was seriously injured, but
he knew that he had to take care of the men. He was angry, but he decided not
to take action against the contractor and just let him go, so long as he
refunded the payment he already received. He also worked out a deal with him to
leave the men behind, so they wouldn’t have lost their jobs because of the
man’s shoddy work ethics.

He was
back in the office later than he planned and missed Silene. He had a pile of
files on his desk he could not ignore, so he knew it was another day before he
could see her. Things were not how he wanted them to be. Silene should not be
alone, though she told him she was okay. An uneasy feeling settled over him as
he reached for the first file and his pen.

He
could not shake the fear that gripped him the previous evening when he returned
and found Silene gone. He’d come back from dealing with the men on the work
site and making sure they weren’t seriously hurt. When he got the call that
there was an accident, the first thought that hit him was that Hilda had
something to do with it.

As if
that wasn’t stressful enough, he’d returned home, hoping to hold her in his
arms, but she was gone. Once again, Hilda crossed his mind, but when he called,
she’d reassured him that she was fine. He still had that uneasy feeling
lingering over him.

He
wondered how much longer he could endure this. Will it be another three hundred
years before he found the answer to his quest? He squeezed the heels of his
palms to his eye sockets and groaned loudly.

* * * *

When
she learned that Bronte would not be coming directly to the office, she had
been ecstatic. It would have been difficult avoiding him there; however, she
found it hard to concentrate without his presence. She found herself constantly
looking at the door, expecting him to come in any minute. Occasionally, she
would check his office, and by the end of the day, she was feeling a hollow
sensation in the pit of her stomach.

By the
time she drove out of the parking lot, she was missing him terribly. She was
tempted to go back to the mansion, but she wanted to sort out her feeling
first. Admittedly, she was scared of him, or rather, that dragon thing that he
was.

There
were so many questions swirling around in her mind. What would happen if they
continued their relationship? How would they handle him never growing old? What
would they do about Hilda? Was she prepared to deal with a witch who was three
and a half centuries old?

It
wasn’t a conscious thought that gave her the idea to solve the mystery that
Hilda presented to Bronte. She just found herself thinking about it, and then
later researching everything she could about medieval witchcraft and curses.

Chapter Eleven

There
she stood, her gray eyes as cold as steel, but she was beautiful, in an icy
kind of way. Her face was flawless with long lashes that brushed her cheeks.
Her bone structure was enviable and her neck long and elegant. She wore a long
dark coat that matched her shimmering raven hair. Her lips were painted black
as well as her nails. She was as tall as Silene but thinner. Immediately,
Silene knew who or what it was.

The
curtain flapped with a sudden rush of wind that followed her entry through the
bedroom window. Silene could feel the blood drain from her face and her eyes
widened with shock. A chill passed through the room, making her shiver.
Briefly, she wondered where Bronte was, and if perhaps, she’d never see him
again.

“How
did you get in here?” She asked. Though her knees felt like jelly, she managed
to keep her voice steady.

“You
can’t shut me out, my sweet,” Hilda said sweetly, her face expressionless.

The
thought struck Silene that the woman in front of her was dead due to the ashen
skin tone and cold air about her.

“Get
out of my house! You aren’t welcome here!” Silene’s voice raised a few decibels.

“You
are a feisty one as well as beautiful,” Hilda stepped forward. “But you can’t
get rid of me so easily.”

Hilda
continued forward towards her, yet, Silene stood her ground. When she was about
three feet away, the witch reached out her hand as if to touch her, but she
brushed her hand away. The woman was cold to the touch as she’d suspected. A
chill an up her spine as goose bumps appeared all over her skin

“Don’t
touch me!”

“Don’t
worry, I don’t need to,” she replied in her cold, toneless voice.

Silene
watched as Hilda slowly reached her hand into her coat pocket and retrieved
something with a closed fist. For the first time since standing in her bedroom,
the witch smiled, only with her lips as her eyes remained without emotion. She
slowly opened her hand, brought it to her mouth, and blew what looked like
small, black sparkles.

The
room started to spin and she could see the witch swirl before her. The last
thing she heard before the room went black and she sank to the floor was a
shrilling laugh. She was still conscious. She knew this because she could hear
Hilda laughing still.

With
every ounce of energy she possessed, she pulled her leaden eyelids open. The
woman was standing over her with that mirthless smile of hers, but she could
not move because her limbs were lifeless. She tried to speak; however, she
could not open her mouth.
What’s happening to me?
Her mind screamed. She
watched as Hilda dropped her coat and closed her eyes, tilting her head back
slightly. Then, the most frightening thing happened. The shadow of a woman
stepped out of that body which also sank to the floor beside her.

The
black shadow woman floated and hovered over her for a minute, then dipped as if
trying to come into contact with her. Then, she heard the most blood curdling
scream and the shadow bounced off her and onto the bedroom wall.

“What
are you?” Hilda shrieked.

She
could not reply because she was still lying lifeless on the floor. Hilda came
at her again and the same thing happened.  After Hilda’s third attempt, Silene
felt her arms and legs start to tingle and she tried to move them. She was
barely able to stand and had to slump onto the bed.

Her
throat felt constricted but she managed to say in a hoarse voice, “You failed!
Now get out!”

The
shadow hovered for a few minutes and then floated through the window, the body
disappearing with it. Silene let out a long breath she hadn’t realized she’d
been holding, and curled up on the bed.

* * * *

“She
holds the key,” Professor George told Bronte, who looked rather confused.

“How?”

“She
may have some special powers or charm,” the professor continued. “I don’t know
how, but I do know that she is named after one of the rarest plants in the
world.”

It then
dawned on Bronte that this was the reason Hilda had returned. She must know
that Silene was the answer to the riddle. It also meant that Silene was in
mortal danger. He had to protect her even if it meant losing his own life. He
would not let Hilda hurt the woman he loved.

“Have
you told her?” The professor inquired.

Bronte
made a face, “No. How can I tell her I’m three and a half centuries old?”

“It’s
the only way. You have got to warn her, make her understand. I know you are
afraid to lose her, but Bronte, you will lose her if you don’t tell her. What
if that thing hurt her or worse, she finds out who you really are and panics?”

“I
don’t want to scare her,” was his reply.

“She
will be scared of Hilda anyway, might as well you tell her.”

The man
had a point, Bronte thought. “I still don’t understand her connection.”

“Do you
think Hilda knew that Silene was the key from the beginning?” Professor George
asked.

“Perhaps,
it’s possible. Does that mean she can see the future?”

“She
foretold that the curse can only be broken by the rarest flowers, so she must
have known that Silene’s name was as rare as the flower it represented,” the
older man replied.

Bronte
was troubled about Silene being involved. Why was she the key? Does that mean
they were fated to meet? Or could it be she was his destiny? How was that
possible that the one he was meant to be with was born three hundred years
later?

He
could not wait to see Silene and hopefully get a chance to tell her the truth.
On his way to her place, he stopped to get her a dozen roses. Expectantly, he
knocked and waited for her to open the door. When she pulled the door open
after quite a number of minutes, she leaned against the door post and her eyes
drooped sleepily. She didn’t look so well.

“Silene,
what’s wrong?”

“Bronte,”
she managed to get out while her knees gave out and she slid to the floor.

He
dropped the roses in the spot he stood and scooped her up in his arms, taking
her to the sofa and setting her to lie down. She looked pallid and her skin
felt cold. He ran to get a blanket from her linen cupboard and covered her with
it.

“Silene
what’s happened?”

She
barely spoke in a whisper, “Hilda, she tried to….” She could not complete her
statement. Her voice cracked and her eyes filled with tears. “She-she-she.…”

“Shhhh,”
Bronte comforted “Don’t say anything. I’m taking you back to the mansion.
You’ll be safe there.”

She
knew?
It occurred to Bronte that Silene knew Hilda’s name.
But,
how?
He wondered.
Did Hilda tell her everything?
He looked down at
her and his heart softened.
What did she know and for how long?
He
wanted to ask her; however, she had drifted into sleep. She must have had a
hard time and was in shock.

Over an
hour passed and she still hadn’t awoken. He lifted her from the sofa and took
her to the bedroom. He told himself that if she didn’t open her eyes soon, he’d
have to take her to the hospital. He leaned against the bedroom doorway
watching her, worry etched on his features.

After
another hour or so, he’d laid beside her and continued to watch her sleep. He
touched her forehead and felt that it was warmer, and her skin tone was
returning to normal. He was about to doze off when she groaned and her eyes
flicked open.

“You’re
awake?” He was relieved.

“Hmm,”
she murmured.

“Can I
get you anything?” He inquired.

She
tried to get up, but he insisted that she lay down. “Water, I need water,” she
whispered.

He went
to fetch the water and returned with the pitcher and a glass. She pushed back
the covers and sat up, drinking three full glasses.

“Thanks,”
she handed him the glass after she had her fill.

“Are
you okay?” He asked.

“I’m
fine now,” she reassured him.

He took
the pitcher and glass back to the kitchen and wondered how he should broach the
subject of Hilda. He placed the items on the counter and was returning to the
bedroom when she entered the living room.

“What
happened?” He heard her ask.

He
frowned in concern, “You don’t remember?”

“Not
really. Did I pass out?” She looked at him expectantly.

“It
would seem so. You collapsed as soon as you opened the door. Are you sure you
don’t want to come back to the mansion with me?”

She
shook her head, “I’m fine now. Don’t worry. I promise I’ll call you if anything
happens, okay?”