Lust Potion For the Alpha Page 4

  Jorah slammed the door on the worried faces of both his father-in-law and his second in command. Damn fool tradition, escorting the groom to the bedchamber. He was glad the bedding hadn’t occurred back at Varkash Keep where it would have been accompanied by a lot of bawdy jests and leering from his pack. He could do without that bullshit. He turned and started to strip, unbuckling his belt and dragging his tunic up and over his head. He only gave his quivering bride the most cursory of glances.

  “Get over here,” he growled.

  Damn, she had him edgy with need and hunger. He didn’t feel like himself at all. It was hard to concentrate with that infuriating smell emanating off her.

  “Wh-what?”

  He sloshed some water from a ewer into the basin.

  “Here. Now,” he barked out and was glad to hear some rustling behind him in the vicinity of the bed then some soft footfalls. He steeled himself up to look around at her. Holy hells! Her shift was practically translucent. His mouth went dry at the sight of her full-figure. He could see the soft shadow of her woman’s hair beneath her chemise and round high breasts. He reached out towards her and grasped her firmly, pulling her into his arms. She gasped and he felt himself harden and lengthen behind the suddenly tight press of his pants. Unable to help himself he plastered himself up against her back. The soft press of her flesh even through her shift made him close his eyes with pleasure. Then that damn scent assailed his nostrils again making him jerk back his head with a bitten off curse. She trembled in his arms.

  “Hold still,” he bit out reaching out for a wash-cloth. He dunked it in the water before wringing out the excess water and then dragging it down her throat. She jumped.

  “What-?”

  “Hold still I said.”

  She tipped back her head and blinked up at him as he scrubbed behind her ears and down her neck. He dunked the cloth again and swirled it around in the lukewarm water before squeezing it again and returning again to her throat. This time his hand slid down between her lovely breasts. Her breathing hitched at this and he could almost feel her heart thudding in her chest. He swallowed, his head starting to pound as he tried to concentrate on the task in hand. He was breathing hard through his nostrils as he watched her nipples pucker and harden under his rapt gaze. Unable to help himself he dropped the cloth and dragged his hands up her soft body to cup her full plump breasts and squeeze them, dropping his face to her shoulder where he inhaled her clean, feminine scent. She moaned softly and squirmed against his front. Hauling her up like that meant her plump bottom nestled against his rock hard cock. He growled with pleasure and then almost howled when the lingering traces of that foul perfume permeated his senses. He almost dropped her, only just remembering to keep his hold of her at the last minute.

  “W-what is it?” she gasped as he reeled towards the bed and dumped her on it.

  He wheezed, passing a hand over his eyes,

  “That damn scent…. It’s killing me.”

  She glanced up at him with those big grey eyes. Something pierced through his shrieking senses. Guilty big grey eyes he realised belatedly, his gaze narrowing on hers.

  “What did you do?” he barked out.

  “I’m so sorry,” she winced. “I didn’t think it would have such a strong effect. You’re not going to pass out again are you?”

  “You didn’t think what would have such a strong effect?” He stared at her thunderstruck.

  She licked her lips, almost distracting him if it weren’t for the shooting pain in his skull.

  “The perfume,” she whispered wretchedly. “My sister gave it me. We thought that if … Well that you would not want me … So I wore it and I shouldn’t have. It was wrong. You must be furious…”

  He stared down at her in dawning astonishment. The wench had deliberately worn the perfume to affect him like this… He was completely floored that she could be so duplicitous. She seemed such a tasty little morsel lying before him even now with her round white limbs, her rosy pink nipples and lips. Her abundant loose hair, not a rare shade or colour twas true, but it was so shiny and thick he wanted to bury his nose in it. And in the matching curls betwixt her pale plump thighs. But it was all a lie, all this luxuriant, pliant female flesh before him as clearly the female had decided to render him impotent on his wedding night. Deliberately. The pounding in his temple now was from fury.

  “Sly wench,” he gritted out. There was no way he could rut between her thighs with her pores giving off that loathsome sickening smell of rotting fruit. Clearly she meant to thwart the consummation tonight, but to what purpose? He cast about for a reason and the only one that sprang to mind was that curly haired lad she’d been whispering with earlier. He almost snarled in fury which made him sway on his feet. She leant up on one elbow hastily as if to rise.

  “Stay where you are,” he ground out glaring at her.

  She lay back down.

  “I’m sorry,” she whimpered.

  So, she didn’t want him to bed her he thought angrily. And her methods of prevention had been most effective. Still, there was another way he could make her bleed on the bedsheets to prove she was now his, maiden or not. It would also get his inner-wolf off his back. He was yapping and keening now enough fit to bust his aching head open.

  “Pull up your shift,” he ground out.

  “What?”

  He clambered onto the bed, grabbing her legs behind the knees and pushing them up.

  “Pass me down a pillow,” he rasped.

  She was gaping at him open-mouthed, propped up on her elbows.

  “But what are you-?”

  “Pillow.”

  She twisted round to grab a pillow and he snatched it off her shoving it under her bottom elevating her hips. Gingerly he lowered himself between her legs till he was resting on his elbows. He sniffed. Down here the rancid fruit smell was fainter. She’d slathered the damn perfume on her throat and breasts, not her thighs thank gods. Though the pulse beat just as strongly down here as they did in her neck and he knew women a-plenty who applied their scent down below. None of them respectable. He lowered his nose until it was pressing against the springy light brown curls on her mons. She made a yelping sound above him that excited his wolf-side. Easy, he cautioned himself. Don’t lose control. Even though she’d shown herself treacherous and untrustworthy, he didn’t want to hurt the little bitch. Female. His wife, he amended himself silently. Her own natural womanly scent was directly under his nose now, soothing him. He breathed it in, luxuriating in the rich aroma of human female. Anxious, somewhat aroused female, he realised with relish. Delicious, his teeth descended and he began to salivate. Maybe she’d realise what a mistake she’d made incapacitating him on their wedding night now. He extended his tongue to give a long swipe through her tempting nether lips at this point and she let out a shriek almost coming off the bed.

  “Gods!” she squeaked. “Why, what are you-?”

  He growled not inclined to speak to her right now and lowered his head again, dragging his long tongue through the sweetly glistening pink flesh. His cock twitched painfully at the thought of the tight, moist welcome she’d give him.

  “My Lord! I – I must protest!” she panted, trying to squirm out of the iron hold he had of her. He smiled grimly against her pretty little cunny. His arms were hooked under her thighs and up and around in a punishing grip. There was no way she was going to get away from him now. He closed his lips around her little pearl and gave it a good sharp suck before laving it with his tongue.

  “I don’t know what you’re –“ she broke off her words with a low groan. “Oh – ohhhhh! No, no you mustn’t! Oh gods!” Her hips bucked up once, twice and she shrieked as she creamed right into his hot mouth. He lapped at her, pushing his tongue deep into her passage to seek out every last delicious drop of her moisture as she panted and bucked and shrieked under his ministrations. As he did it, he pumped his hips, rubbing his hard cock against the mattress like a horny youth unable to stop himself. He could feel
her tight little cunt spasming around his tongue as she took her pleasure, cursing and wailing, begging and pleading with him in broken phrases that spoke of total inexperience in oral pleasure. Gods, her cries aroused him almost savagely. He grew so hard he felt dizzy. He deliberately extended the experience for her, licking and suckling her right through her climax, drawing it out until the tremors shaking her body grew fainter and fainter and still he swirled his tongue to capture every last drop of her essence. He lifted his mouth of her at last with reluctance and gazed at her shaken flushed face.

  “Why on earth-what was that-?” she panted in bewilderment.

  “This bit will hurt,” he told her grimly as he pulled her legs firmly apart staring down at her creamy right thigh before lowering his mouth, opening wide and then biting down hard on her soft flesh. His wolf howled triumphantly as her sweet blood ran over his extended teeth and he finally came, spilling into his breeches for the first time in years. His head rushed and, as if from a distance he heard her shrill scream. Greedily he allowed himself five seconds to fill his mouth with her rich blood, savouring the indescribable taste on his tongue. He deliberately let two or three drops trickle down from his lips onto the bed sheets before swallowing it down in a gulp. Then he licked at the puncture wounds, allowing his saliva to run down his tongue and into her torn flesh, healing and closing over until she was whole again. He was panting hard by the time he lifted his head and her eyes had drifted half shut with exhaustion.

  “You’re mine now,” he growled low in satisfaction.

  She merely moaned faintly in reply. He would have liked to have crawled up and over her before collapsing in a heap but the smell of the damn scent was still too strong on her upper body where she’d been twisting and turning, the warmth of her body making the fruity odour more pungent.

  Instead he needed to get out into the fresh air away from the perfumed air which was almost like poison to him. He staggered to his feet and over to the casement which he flung wide letting the night air in. He took some great gulping breaths of fresh air, before realising the contrast was too swift as his stomach started to clench and roil. With an oath he seized the empty chamber pot in the corner and vomited.

  Issy had never felt more wretched in her life. That wicked lust potion had driven her new husband completely out of his mind. The things he’d done to her! She’d never be able to look him in the eye again! And the poor man would never be able to face himself she thought rolling over onto her side and looking to the doorway where he slept buck naked on the floor. Last night after throwing up violently he had managed only to wash his mouth, face and well – crotch area before stripping off completely and collapsing in the corner as far away from her as he could manage. She’d crept out to empty the chamber pot and refill the ewer with clean water in the early hours and then snuck back in. Of course it had meant stepping over him both times and when she’d re-entered the room he’d been lucid enough to grab her ankle and roll onto his back staring up at her blankly. She’d whispered his name and he’d relaxed and rolled back onto his side releasing her. She’d done a quick strip wash, scrubbing at her throat and breasts herself this time in the vain hope of removing the last of the potion. The hawker had never warned Miriam it might drive a man to perversions she thought with a sob. She closed her eyes and whispered a frantic prayer that he would not remember what he’d done when driven out of his mind lust or her own wicked reaction to it she thought wretchedly. For Lord Mallon-Garth was innocent she reflected, his actions had been the frenzied result of a force he could not control. Her own brazenness had no such excuse. How could she? How could she have sobbed and wailed and clawed at the bedsheets in pleasure like that beneath his mouth? Unless… she frowned, dabbing a towel over her damp body. Unless … she too had been affected by the potent aphrodisiac …? She stilled and considered this possibility with dawning hope. Yes, that had to be it! She herself had fallen victim to the smell of magical plums! Hearing a faint groan from the corner she dropped the wash cloth and scampered back over to the bed, hiding herself beneath its covers. That was when she spotted the drops of dried blood on the sheet. She gasped. So he had bitten her! She’d thought she must have imagined it when there’d been no scarring! She dragged down the covers and inspected her right inner thigh by the grey early light coming in from the window. She traced her finger over the smooth flesh. Was there a very faint scar there? she noticed sitting upright. There was! But it looked like she must have had it for years for it to have faded out like that… She looked up in consternation to find his steady gaze watching her. She blushed and pulled the sheet back up.

  “You’re well?” he asked huskily.

  “Aye my Lord,” she managed to stammer back, a hot wash of shame sweeping through her.

  “Good. We’ll be setting off in two hours at the latest.”

  “That soon?” She could see her answer had displeased him as soon as she’d uttered it. “I mean, I might not get to say goodbye to everyone,” she added softly.

  His gaze was still hard.

  “If you mean Benwick Price you said goodbye to him the moment you wed me,” he bit out harshly.

  Issy’s mouth dropped open. Benwick Price? She was surprised he even remembered his name when he refused to speak to him the day before!

  “I did not mean Benwick,” she denied lamely.

  He made a noise of irritation and rose swiftly to his feet showing his complete nakedness as he scooped up the sheet and approached the bed. Issy made a strangled noise and shrank back against the headboard. He rose an eyebrow at her before tossing the sheet next to her and giving her a significant look before turning back around and heading for his clothing. Issy tried not to stare when she saw his man-root was half erect. Being around animals since a young age she knew what that meant and felt her cheeks flame as she took in the length and breadth of it. Gods! He was huge. She felt suddenly relieved he hadn’t taken her virginity with it last night. She’d never have been up for a three day ride afterwards to his home! She averted his eyes as he dressed once again all in black and used the fresh water to wash.

  “I’m going out for a run to clear my head,” he uttered flatly. “When I get back you best be dressed, packed and ready to depart, my lady.”

  Issy didn’t answer though she did wonder at the mocking tone. And what did he mean by a run? He must have meant a ride surely? She watched him stride from the room without a backward glance and only then did she emerge from the covers to start pulling on her underclothes. She heard a hasty step on the stair and then both her aunt and sister burst into the room. With astonishment she noted her aunt’s eyes were reddened from crying.

  “Oh Issy,” she blubbed coming around the bed and flinging her skinny arms around her neck. “Your poor, poor girl.”

  Issy stared across at Miriam who was regarding her with mingled fascination and horror.

  “It’s alright aunt Enid,” she said awkwardly patting her on the back. Her aunt had never been one for displays of affection. Her aunt pulled back on a gasp.

  “You’re right,” she said in a wobbly voice. “Quite right. And I hear that it is never so bad as the first time.” She couldn’t quite meet Issy’s confused gaze. “Sensible girl. You have always been the sensible one.”

  Issy gave a forced smile.

  “Yes that’s me.” Sensible Issy who’d snared her husband with a lust potion!

  Her aunt saw her strain and burst into fresh tears.

  “Was he very brutish?” she whispered. “Poor Girda said you screamed blue murder!”

  Issy’s face flooded with colour.

  “Girda?” she repeated. “What has Girda to do with anything?”

  “Well, I left a servant on the stair in case you had need of anything…” babbled her aunt.

  “Girda had no right to say any such thing!” said Issy hotly. Her ears burned to think of the gossip below stairs. “I can assure you Lord Mallon-Garth acted … entirely as he ought!” she finished awkwardly avoiding her sist
er’s raised brows.

  “Well of course, it is his right but I do think he should have shown a more chivalric restraint,” her aunt twittered on as she started fastening Issy’s lacings. “Girda said you begged something piteously …”

  “Please aunt!” Issy shut her eyes in mortification. It was so humiliating! She realised her sister was pulling resolutely on the bedsheets.

  “What are you doing?” she faltered as Miriam shook out the blood stained bottom sheet and headed towards the window.

  “It’s for the showing,” her sister said stoutly. “To prove he took your maidenhead.”

  “Oh gods!” her aunt moaned. “My poor little Issy!”

  All in all she almost felt relieved that they would be leaving Wick Manor shortly. She didn’t know how many more blows her dignity could take!

  It was drizzling with rain for the first hour or so after they left Little Wick. Issy pulled her new fur lined cloak tightly around her, feeling oddly touched that her aunt had handed it over from her own private stash. Her new husband had provided her mount, a lovely chestnut mare she had named Beatrix, shortened to ‘Trix. Jorah rode in front next to Sir Alfric and she and Geoffrey his squire came next and then a couple of pack horses brought up the rear. She tried to engage Geoffrey in some conversation but the youth was at that awkward age where he bobbed his head a lot and blushed furiously whenever women addressed him.

  “You must be looking forward to getting back home to the Keep, Geoffrey,” she ventured. “Have you been away from home long?”

  “Three years milady,” he answered reluctantly, mumbling his words.

  “Your family must have missed you.”

  He shrugged and sent her an inscrutable look.