Lust Potion For the Alpha

by Alice Coldbreath

  “Aye, bees. For honey. We could use the honey for making sauces, dressing the meat, sweetening dishes, even ale.”

  Dilys’ eyes widened.

  “I don’t know of any estates in the Winterlands that keeps bees miss, I mean, milady,” she corrected herself hastily.

  “Perhaps it’s too cold for bees then,” pondered Isolde. “But we should certainly trade for honey when we replenish our stocks. The stores seem sadly depleted,” she said hesitantly. “When is it that we travel to market to buy our spices and provisions?”

  “Bronwen says we only need good plain food here,” answered Matilda from behind her. She was so light on her feet that Isolde had not heard her enter the kitchen. She was carrying a pile of blankets and bedding for the laundry.

  “I see. But even so, there must be a journey to market once a month or every other month surely?”

  Matilda shrugged,

  “Miss Bronwen does as she sees fit, my lady” she demurred pressing her lips together tightly with seeming disapproval.

  “Matilda has a lot of duties,” commented Isolde thoughtfully as she watched her disappear down the stone steps to the scullery. “She’s surely not laundress for the castle too?”

  “Oh no miss. Mrs Hodniss collects it once a week. She and her three daughters take care of it.”

  “Well, that’s good. It seems that you are both sadly overworked here at the castle. Why are not more staff taken on?”

  Dilys’ eyes were perfectly round with astonishment.

  “Well miss… I mean, my lady,” she hesitated. “It’s because well,” she lowered her voice. “You see… only outcasts would work here my lady. People what have been thrown off by their family. No respectable women would work up here.”

  Isolde’s mouth fell open.

  “But you and Matilda are both extremely respectable,” she frowned looking over Dilys’ neat and tidy appearance. The girl was always neat as a pin, her hair neatly fastened under her mob cap, her large white starched apron in place. And as for Matilda, the woman’s appearance was always immaculate.

  “Begging your pardon miss, but we b’aint. Both of us have been turned out by our families.”

  “Whatever for?”

  Dilys hesitated.

  “Well miss, I can’t speak for Matilda because she’s been here longer’n me and she’s a close lipped one. But as for me… Well, I’m … I’m mated with Jed and Roland. The stable hands.” She kept her eyes resolutely downward and Isolde noticed her hands shook slightly as she held the basting ladle.

  “Mated?”

  Dilys took a shaky breath.

  “It’s complicated miss.”

  Isolde cut and shaped the dough in silence for a minute.

  “I’m sorry Dilys, I didn’t man to pry,” she said at last with a reassuring smile at the girl. Dilys smiled back in relief.

  “Thank you miss,” she bobbed a grateful smile. “I hope I haven’t said too much miss. I know It’s not my place and didn’t mean to cause offence.”

  “Of course not Dilys,” replied Isolde swiftly. In truth she wished the girl had told her far more. She had many burning questions but realised that pressing Dilys was unfair. She would have to go elsewhere for an explanation.

  She saw her opportunity that evening as they undressed for bed.

  “What does being mated mean?” she asked that evening as she brushed her hair and watched Jorah in the mirror. He almost dropped the shirt he had just removed. He cleared his throat.

  “Who have you been talking to?”

  “Oh everyone. The staff,” she answered airily.

  “And they asked you if we were mated?” he demanded thunderstruck. He looked angry Issy noticed as she watched his reflection. She sighed.

  “No,” she admitted. But why aren’t we mated? She wondered silently.

  “It’s a pack thing,” he said shortly after a heavy pause.

  Issy frowned. It was becoming his standard answer for when he didn’t want a topic of conversation to go any further. It was starting to grate on her. Anyway, she thought with a flicker of annoyance. How could it be a pack thing? Dilys was a human and she was mated to not one but two werewolves. She opened her mouth to argue but then realised that Jorah was going back out.

  “Where are you going?” she asked bewildered as he pulled his shirt back over his head.

  “Out,” he bit out.

  Isolde stared at him.

  “But you just washed up,” she pointed out. “Where are you going?”

  “Isolde,” he growled. “Your my wife not my keeper.” He slammed the door as he exited. That was another thing he was doing a lot.

  His little wife was tying him in knots, thought Jorah distractedly as he started to shift once he descended the staircase to the next floor. She was pushing their boundaries, prying into things he didn’t want her to. Were all human females this damn interfering? Why wouldn’t she bloody well stay in the place he’d allotted her? She was driving him crazy! Everywhere he turned people were asking about her, wanting answers. Only this morning Ran had asked him what the problem was and why didn’t he just up and mate her already. Impudent bastard, Jorah snarled. If he wasn’t his younger brother he’d have punched him in the face. She’s a sturdy wench, Ran had commented, damn his impudence! You won’t break her! Before he’d even known it, Jorah had him by the throat pinned against the castle wall. ‘You don’t look at my female,’ he’d ground out before he’d managed to unwrap his clawed fingers. Ran had stared at him as if he was deranged. ‘So make her your Alpha bitch,’ he’d wheezed. ‘Then the pack will accord her the due respect’. ‘The pack will show her due respect, because I say so,’ he’d roared back. But deep down he knew they would only see her as a human pet without the status mating her would give. He groaned. In truth, she was three parts mated already. He had only to give her his blood and it would be done. He’d never meant to let it get this far. Around her he had no control. It was frightening. He shifted fully and hit the stone floor on all fours, releasing his energy in a pent up howl of frustration. His marriage, so calmly plotted was not meant to send him into turmoil like this! Throwing his energies into the estate was not occupying him as it once had. Always his thoughts strayed back to her. What she was doing. Her enticing scent. How far away she’d strayed from his side. Who she was conversing was. What she was learning about his kind… That was the problem. Isolde was constantly asking questions, forming opinions. The damn woman didn’t seem to realise she should just sit around in her shift and wait for him to come home at night and ravish her! She didn’t need to be poking and prying around Varkash Keep! Questioning the old ways, suggesting new improved ways to run things. Only this morning Alfric had been rambling on about some harvest feast Isolde had suggested for the tenant farmers which he’d thought sounded like a good idea. Jorah had stared at Alfric, wondering when his beta had decided that human females, something he’d barely tolerated in the past, should have a say in how Varkash Keep was run. It beggared belief! Briefly Jorah acknowledged that when he’d wanted a capable, biddable human female to wife, one of the factors had been that she would know how to run a comfortable household. Comfortable was one thing Varkash had never been. Its last mistress, his mother had no interest in the daily running of a busy castle. It had lurched along, cold, unwelcoming, neglected. But now he had Isolde, he didn’t want her running amuck sticking her pretty little nose into their accounts, their way of life. He wanted her naked. Locked in his bedroom. Away from prying eyes. There to see to his needs. And he was very needy when it came to her. It was like a thirst he couldn’t slake. An itch he couldn’t scratch. A slow and steady heating of his blood which started the minute he left her side and only her calming touch could sooth. He was reminded that he hadn’t been buried deep inside her delicious, soft body since that morning when he’d rolled on top of her thoroughly rutted her before breakfast. He needed her body like he needed air to breathe. Her glorious, generous body which she freely yielded and wrapped ar
ound him like a fragrant gift every morning and evening. Gods, he was in a bad way. Even thinking about her now, upstairs lying in their bed was making him salivate with need. This constant wanting. It was wrong. Something was wrong with him. He’d never been afflicted like this before by a woman either she-wolf or human. It almost frightened him. Was it because he’d bitten her? He paused in his thoughts. Had that triggered a mating process he now couldn’t stop? He’d never marked a female before but he’d never heard it doomed you like this! He’d never felt the need to mark another before Isolde. It had been an unstoppable impulse. Truthfully, he couldn’t regret that he’d done it because it showed forever to their community that she belonged to him. Without some sign he’d probably have gone out of his mind. If he hadn’t already he acknowledged wincing inwardly. He needed to get a grip. Isolde would have to learn her place. He’d show her. There was no need for him to be angsting like this when she was patiently waiting for him upstairs in their bed. He took a shaky breath. He would need to have a run in the woods for an hour or so before returning to her to make sure his rampaging emotions were under control. He didn’t want to scare her with his intensity of need. Not when he was doing such a good job of scaring himself. Instead of making for the wood he made his way to the west wing where the younger pack members were housed. Geoffrey still had a room there although he was old enough now to move into the north wing. Military service had definitely proved he was a man now even if he had only been a squire. He had taken on a big brother role to the cubs who had started to show up at the castle with red-rimmed eyes and dragging feet. Issy had shown a lively interest in the new pages – he had told her it was pack business and to leave it alone. Five had shown so far and no sign of the Roper twins. He ground his teeth. Their grandfather had two days left before he sent Baris to their farm to collect them. Stubborn old bastard. He rounded the corner and found his brother frowning over a ledger. He shifted as Baris was in human form.

  “Brother,” he greeted him. Baris nodded towards a chair where some clothing lay. Luckily werewolves were comfortable with nudity from a young age. Jorah pulled on some trousers and leant against one of the mullions in the arched window.

  “Brother,” said Baris cautiously lowering his book. “If it’s progress you want to hear of, I’ve none for you,” he sighed.

  Jorah frowned.

  “What’s amiss?”

  “It’s these cubs,” complained Baris. “A little bunch of snivellers. All they do is cry for their mothers. The humans have brought them up soft.”

  Jorah blinked.

  “They want their mothers?” he echoed mystified.

  “Two of them can’t even shift,” snorted Baris. “Their humans discouraged it.”

  Jorah’s mouth tightened.

  “They’re better off among their own kind.”

  “I know that,” snapped Baris. “It’s them that need convincing. Maybe you should have a word with them.”

  “They’re scared of me.”

  “They’re scared of everything! I’m not suited for this Jorah.”

  “They need someone to teach them how to be wolves,” Jorah insisted. “You’re perfect for this.”

  Baris grumbled.

  “Geoffrey’s better with them than I am.”

  “Geoffrey’s still only seventeen,” pointed out Jorah. “But he can be your second in command if he wants. Actually that might be a good idea,” he conceded.

  “Second in command? The whelp defies me at every turn!”

  “He’s not your biggest fan,” agreed Jorah with a reluctant smile. “But he knows from first hand experience what it’s like to be a foundling wolf.”

  “What about Alfric?” suggested Baris. “He was a foundling too.”

  “Alfric is my beta,” pointed out Jorah sharply. “I need his help with a million things around the estate. He can’t be babysitting the foundlings too.”

  Baris growled,

  “Babysitting is not my forte either brother!”

  “When they’ve grown a bit you’ll be able to teach them soldiering and combat.”

  “They’re still wet behind the ears!”

  Jorah rolled his eyes.

  “Where are they?”

  “I told them it was time for bed.”

  “And they all went?”

  “Quiet as mice. I guarantee one of them’s crying into the pillow as we speak. Or wetting the bed.”

  “They’re the future of the Varkash pack,” Jorah reminded him direly. “You need to infuse some spirit into them.”

  Baris groaned.

  “Easier said than done brother.”

  “We should ask Cedric to speak to them. Do some weekly lessons,” suggested Jorah uneasily. “They’re all farm boys and need some education.”

  “Aye, I’ll do that,” Baris agreed. “Have you taken her to meet him yet?”

  “Who?” asked Jorah sharply.

  “Isolde.”

  “Not yet,” admitted Jorah. “I’ve had my hands full. The old buzzard should have come up to the Keep and met her! Word will have reached him by now that I have a bride.”

  Baris grinned.

  “You know how he is. He’ll have his nose buried in some book.”

  Jorah grunted. Baris had brought his wife to the fore-front of his mind again and his wolf was yammering for him to return to her bed. He tarried instead, reluctant to give into his weakness.

  “You got anything to drink up here?” he asked turning to his brother.

  Baris grinned, turning and reaching beneath his bed.

  “Only the good stuff for my Alpha,” he said tossing the bottle at him. Jorah caught it and yanked the stopper out with this teeth.

  “Don’t mind if I do,” he said taking a swig. He forced himself to stay conversing with his brother for another thirty minutes before returning to his own bedchamber.

  When he opened the door Issy was sat propped up on the pillows reading a book. She peered at him over the cover.

  “What are you reading?” he grunted as he unfastened his borrowed trousers. Luckily he and Baris were of a similar size.

  She turned the book over as if reminding herself of its title.

  “Animal husbandry.”

  He quirked an eyebrow at her.

  “I was always very involved with the livestock at my father’s house,” she pointed out. “You don’t have any here at the Keep.”

  “We’re werewolves Issy. We don’t keep our prey in pens. We hunt it.”

  “I suppose that makes sense,” she agreed as he climbed into the bed and immediately reached for her, yanking down the neckline of her nightgown to access her soft bosom. She let go of the book and let it slide to the floor with a thud. He fastened his mouth on one creamy breast and licked her pink nipple.

  “Bronwen needs to go as housekeeper.” She told him slightly breathlessly as he kissed his way across to its twin. He supposed he couldn’t blame her as in bed was the only place she had his undivided attention these days.

  “Bronwen?” he frowned.

  “The housekeeper,” she reiterated patiently. “She’s not very good at her duties. Matilda would be far better.”

  “Matilda?” Why the hell was she wittering on about other women, he wondered distractedly as he ran his hands over her body. He needed to concentrate on the matters at hand. He didn’t want to think about other women when he had her where he wanted. Underneath him. His breathing caught as he marvelled in her soft creamy cool skin. She was so perfect.

  “Matilda,” she repeated firmly. “She’s a very capable woman and already does most of the work.”

  He jerked his head up in annoyance.

  “Isolde,” he growled, with half a mind to roll off her. Something he couldn’t quite bring himself to do.

  “Yes?”

  “I don’t want to talk about the household!”

  “You mean right now?”

  “I mean,” he bit out, his hand sliding between her thighs to boldly cup her mons. “Ever
! You’re the lady of the house. You deal with it.”

  “You mean, I can make the decisions…Oh!” she shifted restlessly against his hand as his fingers began to slide between her pussy lips.

  He growled into her neck, his incisors coming down.

  “Yes. No more talking. I want to fuck you.”

  “Yes,” she agreed with a happy sigh. “I want that too. Oh Jorah!”

  He growled with approval at her words. Damn. The torture was worth it! His wolf howled in agreement as everything clicked into place in his world. In the bedchamber his marriage was everything it should be. It was only outside of it that everything grew damn complicated!

  Bronwen had not taken the news well.

  “Jorah will not stand for this,” she had snorted, plunking her hands on her hips and flickering a contemptuous look up and down Isolde’s figure.

  “I have already informed Jorah and he said the decision was mine to make,” answered Isolde calmly. She heard footsteps halt outside the door and was somewhat relieved to see Alfric poke his head in. He seemed to take in the situation in a heartbeat.

  “She’s trying,” sneered Bronwen. “To dismiss a pack member from Varkash. A human.”

  “Certainly not,” interjected Isolde smoothly. “I am simply dismissing you from the housekeeper role which you are not fulfilling adequately. I am not expecting you to leave your home.”

  Alfric folded his arms.

  “A perfectly reasonable request,” he said. “In light of your under-performance.”

  “I’m sure another role can be found that will suit you better Bronwen,” carried on Issy calmly. “I suspect you yourself are not happy in the housekeeper post.”

  “You certainly don’t show any aptitude for it,” added Alfric scathingly.

  Bronwen stared from one to the other in furious silence, her face turning red to match her hair. She shrugged a shoulder.

  “It’s obvious I couldn’t stay in Varkash after such an insult,” she sniffed. “No-one would expect me to.”

  “That’s your choice, Bronwen. No-one is running you out,” put in Alfric.

  “You both are!” she shouted furiously. “And it’s obvious why!”