Lust Potion For the Alpha

by Alice Coldbreath

  “Not anymore,” answered Baris shortly.

  Alfric placed a hand heavily on his shoulder making him jump

  “Me and Baris have an announcement.” He said looking at Jorah, Issy and Uncle Cedric.

  Baris turned to him in surprise.

  “We do?”

  “We’re to be mated,” continued Alfric steadily.

  “Dear me!” exclaimed Cedric reaching for his spectacles which were on the end of his chain. “This is unexpected!”

  Baris’ jaw had dropped. He closed it with a snap, turning to his brother.

  Jorah cleared his throat.

  “Congratulations,” he said raising his goblet.

  Issy joined him, toasting them and taking a hasty sip. If she didn’t know Baris better she would think he was blushing. Issy looked around for Ran but he was sat with Geoffrey and Matilda quietly conversing. Matilda was smiling faintly and had a bit more colour she noticed with relief. Not pack. It was a lonely middle ground occupied by unmated female humans involved with a wolf-pack she realised suddenly. She shot a look across at Dilys whose plate was being automatically refilled by her two partners. Dilys was mated, and therefore was pack. But Matilda, although she had produced a werewolf from her own body was not. The pack was governed by a whole set of rules that made no apparent sense to her. And now she was part of it. Or rather she wasn’t part of it. For she, like Matilda, was not pack. Jorah had not mated her. He had not made her a part of it. She would in many senses forever be an outsider looking in. She swallowed, feeling suddenly cold despite the logs blazing in the hearth and shooting sparks only a few feet from them.

  “Cold, sweeting?” asked Jorah solicitously, rubbing his palm up and down her arm. She forced a smile in reply.

  “I’m fine,” she answered. Fine. She looked up and noticing Alfric’s concerned gaze she managed a more sincere smile for him. “Welcome to the family brother.”

  In the days following the harvest banquet Jorah felt strangely ill at ease. It wasn’t just his Beta’s decision to mate his brother that was irritating him, Issy seemed distant, almost annoyed with him. But he had done nothing to deserve her ire. He racked his brains in vain. She must just be tired from the exertions for the feast he decided eventually. And she had been overdoing things to get the Keep in order. He told her to slow down, to take a day’s rest but she seemed obsessed with keeping herself occupied and tucked out of his sight. He found himself having to seek her out endlessly where once she’d met him halfway. It was starting to piss him off. To make matters worse, Ran for whatever reason had been caught kissing the new maid in the herb garden. Jorah felt justifiably furious.

  “I think it must have been entirely harmless Jorah,” Issy had sighed attempting to soothe him when he’d ranted to her. “Moira is not that sort of girl and Ran teases her like a schoolboy. I’m sure it must have been simply a gesture of affection between the two of them…”

  “Harmless?” Jorah flung at her incredulously. “You think it harmless after all the work we’ve done to try and convince the farmers and villagers that Varkash isn’t a stronghold of lechers waiting for the first chance to pounce on their daughters? You think if Ran got this servant pregnant then people wouldn’t judge the pack…?”

  “I don’t think for one minute that Moira would get pregnant, she’s a very respectable girl,” cut in Issy spiritedly.

  “Don’t be bloody naïve Issy. She’s the daughter of a publican.”

  Issy bridled at this.

  “What does that mean?” she demanded, narrowing her eyes.

  “It means,” he answered crushingly. “That Ran would not have honourable intentions towards a barmaid.”

  “Because she’s too low class or because she’s human?” she asked softly.

  “Don’t try and make this about something it isn’t!” he flung back at her.

  “No, I mean it Jorah! If Moira was a young she-wolf whose father happened to run the village pub would you have such a problem with Ran consorting with her?”

  “Gods Issy, don’t be bloody ridiculous,” he replied coldly. “I married a human didn’t I? That means I’m not biased against wolf-human pairings.”

  “Not exactly,” she answered bitterly. “Because I’m not your mate am I Jorah? You never actually took me to mate and while we are on the subject,” she said drawing in a ragged breath. “Why exactly am I not your mate? Explain that to me!”

  He stared back at her speechless. He hadn’t seen this attack coming at all.

  She swallowed. “Am I not good enough?”

  He opened his mouth to respond but she cut him off,

  “Because if it is just the werewolf way of marrying then why exactly don’t you want to mate me? And it’s not because I’m human so don’t even try that one! Dilys is human and she is mated to two werewolves!”

  His mind raced, Dilys? Who the fuck was Dilys? Somehow he knew that would not be the right thing to say.

  “Werewolves are different,” he seethed slamming his palm down on the table to emphasise his uncompromising words. “Sometimes they have polyamorous pairings, hell sometimes they have same-sex pairings. It must seem very shocking to you, but it’s just something you’ll have to accept you’ll never fully understand.”

  “No, you don’t understand!” she screamed back at him, thumping the table herself and making the candlesticks jump. “I’m not shocked by any of those things! I believe people should be happy and if that is what’s right for them, then they should do it! Gods, you’re so fucking patronising sometimes!”

  Jorah almost reeled. He’d never heard her swear before in his life!

  “Human this and human that! It makes me sick how you all look down on us like we’re insects somehow crawling around the floor at your superior feet!” Instead of bursting into tears, her voice was literally shaking with rage. He stared transfixed by her fury. He should be disgusted he realised in some small part of his brain, this was entirely the kind of wife he didn’t want! Some shrewish harpy with a sharp tongue. But somehow… his wolf was whining with excitement to see his mate, no not his mate he amended hastily, to see his female so enraged. He wanted to push back, to … Jorah broke off at the nature of the beast’s thoughts. Angry sex. He drew in a deep breath. He wanted angry, hot, sweaty sex with her. His dick leapt in his pants. He could have groaned. Not a good idea. Humans were more fragile, you couldn’t bite and nip them whilst you fucked. And he sure as hell didn’t want to shift even partially when inside her. That was out, so instead he narrowed his eyes to slits and glared at her. Once she’d backed down he could soothe his beast.

  “I’m not discussing this with you,” he told her enunciating each word coldly. “I don’t need to explain my motivations to you or justify myself. This is the last time the subject will ever be broached between us, do you understand?”

  She glared at him, her chest heaving, her eyes glittering. Gods, she was magnificent. And he was not fucking her across this table no matter how much his wolf yammered for it. Suddenly she was striding towards him and Jorah blinked as she grabbed his hand, raised it to her lips and then sank her teeth into him, hard. His brain shut down. His whole world tilted sharply on its axis as his wolf howled long and deep with carnal lust. Everything went black. Jorah panted, shaking his head to find her pressed underneath him on the hard table surface. His drew in a ragged breath, bringing his eyes back into focus. He was so hard it hurt, pressed intimately against the cradle of her hips, if their clothes hadn’t been a barrier he’d have been impaled deeply inside her. He groaned, realising she still had her teeth clamped tightly around his hand. Her eyes squinted up at him defiantly. She wasn’t scared. The realisation sent another surge of lust licking up his spine. Her teeth were the blunt teeth of an omnivore which meant although they had dug right into his flesh, sending a little semi-circle of aching pain-points somehow shooting sparks shooting up his dick, they weren’t sharp enough to pierce his skin. If they had been, he shivered… She would have taken the decision out
of his hands and made him her mate. Gods knew why, but that excited him so bad he could barely see straight.

  “Release my hand,” he ground out his voice deep and gravelly and oh-so-turned-on.

  She shook her head, wringing another groan from him. He was going to come in his pants if he wasn’t careful. He wanted to tell her to bite down harder, to bite him to the bone.

  “Get off me Issy!” he roared in a panic at the direction of his rampaging lust.

  She released him on a gasp and he sprang back from her, holding his injured hand out. Her teeth-marks were deep pale indents in his skin, standing out livid from the angry red flesh. If he was human she would have bruised him. As it was he could see his healing factor kicking in already. He stared transfixed, unable to tear his gaze away as her mark on him faded, leaving a bitter after-taste in his mouth. His gaze flickered up finally to find her pale and horrified backing towards the door, her mouth trembling.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I should never have-“ she shook her head. “I don’t know what came over me…”

  He stared at her. She’s my Alpha-bitch, snarled his inner-wolf. Mount her now. Give her our blood.

  He swallowed, fighting it, fighting himself.

  “Get out now,” he bellowed at her. “Now!”

  Issy turned on a sob and ran to the door, fumbling with the door-handle.

  “I’ll be upstairs in half an hour. You’d better be naked by the time I join you,” he shouted after her, striving to get his low and angry voice under control.

  She didn’t react to his words, just wrenched the door open and fled through it.

  Issy’s feet hit the gravel with a crunching sound as she fled down the drive towards the Dower House. She had a stitch in her side but kept going on adrenaline alone, sobbing slightly as drew in her ragged breaths. She wasn’t much of a runner if truth be told, she wasn’t really built for it. Still, she ran now as if a pack of wolves were on her tail. Or rather just one, their Alpha. Their big, angry Alpha who she had just sunk her teeth into like an angry little kitten. Finally she rounded the end of the avenue and saw a faint light from Uncle Cedric’s austere grey stone home. She wheezed and collapsed against the big oak door, rapping on the knocker. Distracted she noticed it was in the shape of a wolf’s head. Naturally it was. She heard rustling within and tried to remember the name of Cedric’s maidservant. A sullen little thing, Martha. It wasn’t Martha whose head appeared around the door now though, but Cedric himself. He was in a deep red and rather shabby dressing gown. He peered at her without much surprise.

  “Oh my dear,” he tutted. “He’s managed to drive you away at last has he?”

  She burst into noisy tears.

  Two cups of a strange drink made from nettle leaves and hot water later, Issy blinked at Cedric through her swollen eyes and tried to follow what he was saying without much success. He was talking in a soothing voice which washed over her like a balm to her red raw soul. The words didn’t really matter, his tone was sympathetic and understanding and in some peculiar way he made her think of her father who was never remotely comforting. Perhaps it was just his age.

  “I’ll have to go back soon,” she murmured dismally. “He said he’d be up to look for me soon.”

  He shot her a searching look.

  “Oh I don’t think so, dear,” he said mildly. “I think you’ve been far too patient for far too long.”

  She blinked at him, her eyes filling with tears again.

  “It’s not his fault,” she choked. “I’m not his mate. He never wanted me to be.”

  Cedric sighed drumming his slim fingers against the arm of his chair.

  “That stupid boy.”

  She wiped away her tears fiercely.

  “Sorry. I’m not usually so emotional.”

  “Is it possible you may be pregnant my dear?”

  She almost dropped the cup.

  “Pregnant? N-no … at least, I don’t think so.”

  “Just as well if you mean to leave him.”

  “Leave..?” she slumped back in her seat. “Leave him?” she whispered.

  “Of course, it would cause him terrible pain, but that would be his own fault. I’m sure he has tried his best to tie you to his side with every bond he has but the one he should have given you in the first place.” He rose up from his chair and started pacing about his sitting room restlessly. “He would not have rationalised it like this of course. Jorah, like most of our kind, acts mostly on his instinct. Naturally,” he added bitterly. “The one area where he should have let his instincts rule him, he chooses to resist.”

  Isolde stared at the tall slender old man moving around his room so over-crowded with huge stacked piles of books and overstuffed furniture. Talking about her leaving her husband as if it was the most natural thing to do. It must really be hopeless, she thought.

  “Of course,” he said thoughtfully. “You realise that although he is not your mate, you are definitely his.”

  Issy set her cup down with a clatter.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “There is so much superstition and ignorance around the lore, even amongst our own kind.” He smiled at her kindly. “Another cup?”

  Mutely, Issy held out her cup and saucer to him.

  “How do you mean?” she asked hesitantly. “I don’t understand.”

  “The mating process is threefold,” he told her. “Blood, spit and essence. Both partners must take of the other.”

  He passed back her cup now refilled with the warm liquid.

  She nodded, taking a tentative sip.

  “Now I know from your scent that Jorah has bitten you, marked you. He took your blood.” He hesitated. “By the same token, I know he has fully taken your spit and essence.”

  Issy choked on her drink. She didn’t really want clarification around those embarrassing areas.

  “He has er… kissed you deeply..”

  “Yes, yes,” she agreed hastily. “Yes, he has.”

  He cleared his throat looking relieved that he could move on.

  “But you have not taken his blood into you. You have only taken spit and essence. This means the mating although three parts done is not complete.” He looked over at her. “Do you see?”

  “I think so… But, that is what he wants Uncle. He doesn’t want to complete it.”

  “Madness, utter madness.” Sighed Cedric. “Once he bit you and started the process, he will be driven quite mad until it is finalised. The urge to make you his will be all-consuming. It’s plain for all to see how much he desires you.” He coughed apologetically.

  Issy started guiltily. No, she thought sadly. That is just the lust potion.

  “That is um, why he will have been acting with such irrational jealousy. The insecurity, the bad temper, the unreasonable demands. His wolf will be pushing him like the very devil to get the deed done.”

  Issy sat very still. She took a deep breath.

  “Uncle Cedric, I want to tell you something.” She looked up at him steadfastly. “You will be a good deal shocked and I fear your opinion of me will suffer considerably. Still, I cannot in all conscience keep it to myself any longer.”

  His eyes widened.

  “You intrigue me, dear Isolde,” he said gently.

  “I’m afraid that neither Jorah nor his wolf chose me,” she said in a small voice. “In truth, I forced his hand.” Her eyes flew to his looking for his horrified reaction.

  “Dear me, how interesting,” he said stirring some honey in to sweeten his drink. “And er, how did you achieve this singular feat?”

  “I… I wore a love potion on my person on the night he met me. In fact,” her face flamed but she was determined to get the whole truth off her chest. “It was a tincture designed to drive a man mad with lust.” Her hand shook and tea spilt into the saucer.

  For a moment she actually thought Cedric looked like he might laugh.

  “How resourceful of you! Young girls can be so ingenious these days,” he mur
mured mildly.

  Issy stared wondering if he had heard her right. Perhaps he was a little deaf?

  “I deceived him. So that he would pick me and not my sister,” she said loudly. “By wearing a lust potion.”

  “And was it of your own making?” he asked with interest.

  “Um, no. My sister bought it from a hawker. Apparently it was brewed from holy virgin’s bones.” She cringed at how awful it sounded but Cedric only nodded politely.

  “I would be most intrigued to see it. Most intrigued.”

  Issy’s eyes widened.

  “Do you have any left?”

  “Uh, yes,” she agreed feebly. “There is a small drop still.”

  “I wonder if I could trouble you to let me have it?”

  Issy set her cup down, a horrible suspicion dawning.

  “It’s very wicked stuff Uncle Cedric, I wish I had never used it. I really couldn’t …”

  “Not for my use, dear child,” he reassured her with a small smile. “But rather – to make an antidote.”

  “An antidote?”

  “If I was to analyse the contents I could determine its ingredients and then from there I could brew the antidote. It would be an interesting experiment don’t you think?”

  Isolde stared.

  “Then you could find out.”

  “Find out?” she echoed, clasping her hands together.

  “Find out if he really is attracted to you or if it was all down to your potion.”

  “Ohhh,” she breathed out raising her head. “I see!”

  “Martha!” called out Cedric only raising his voice very slightly. The door immediately creaked open and there stood Martha who had very clearly been listening in on every word just outside the door. She didn’t look as surly today as she usually did though, instead her gaze kept skittering to Issy with some emotion Issy couldn’t quite identify. Then she realised with a jolt what it was. Admiration! The little wolf-wench admired her duplicity!

  “Martha my dear, I need you fetch something from Lady Isolde’s chamber up at the Keep. Do you think you could do that without being detected?”

  “Of course,” agreed Martha with the faintest hint of scorn. “I could be in and out of there quick as a wink and no-one any the wiser.”