Lust Potion For the Alpha Page 8

  “Are you feeling better now Lady Isolde?” Geoffrey’s clear voice rang out over the heavy silence.

  Isolde gave a choked cough.

  “Much, thank you Geoffrey,” she replied kindly. “Thank you for waiting for us.”

  Jorah looked away guiltily as Alfric angrily shook his head.

  They reached Estragore without further incident as night began to fall. Jorah plucked Isolde from her horse and placed her up before him on Warrior before they entered the walled city. He didn’t want the guards approaching her or testing his patience by trying to touch her. She sat quietly in the circle of his arms. He rested one hand on her thigh and found himself rubbing it in what he hoped was a comforting manner. He could see her eyes darting here and there in the gloom catching the sights and sounds of the foreign city. He realised the accents even must sound very different to her.

  “Have you ever travelled this far North before,” he thought to ask.

  “No my lord,” she shook her head. “I’ve never been more than ten miles from my father’s house before this.”

  He tightened his arm about her waist holding her close to him. She leaned back to rest against him.

  “My brother wrote to me a month ago that he would be here in Estragore for a week for the festival of the moon rising.” He told her in a low voice. “We’ll look to meet him down by the docks. There’s plenty of inns down there and we know his usual haunts. “

  “Is he your only brother?” she ventured timorously.

  “No, I’ve two. Ranulf is only seventeen, he’s at home. Baris is a sword for hire,” he said his lips thinning.

  Isolde cast a quick look over her shoulder at him.

  “When did you last see him?” she asked.

  He shrugged.

  “A year maybe.”

  “And how long since you were last at home?”

  “Three years,” he answered grimly.

  “You must have lots to catch up on,” she commented brightly.

  He grunted and turned in his saddle to confer with Alfric about which direction to take. Sensing his mood she lapsed into silence and pondered her strange dream last night about the huge wolf with the pale blue eyes. The eyes so like Jorah’s. Had it just been her mind playing tricks with her? Tapping into her bridal fears? Of course, there were stories told around the hearth at night on winter evenings. Tales of man-beasts, werewolves. She and Miriam had heard them a-plenty from travelling bards. But she’d never thought they were true – even North in the Winterlands. How could they be? They were just fables to scare children. But she knew what she’d seen. She thought back to that morning in the barn. The morning after she’d first seen Jorah Mallon-Garth. That was the first time she’d seen the beast she’d addressed as Prince. It seemed like too much of a coincidence that they’d appeared at the same time. The hairs on the back of her neck raised with instinctive fear. She gasped as she remembered the fact she’d seen the remains of the meal she had eaten that morning. So she hadn’t been dreaming about the wolf coming into her tent!

  Jorah’s arms tightened around her.

  “You’ve no reason to fear,” he murmured into her ear making her jump. “I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.” She realised he was referring to their increasingly sinister surroundings as they neared the docks. But how had he known she was feeling afraid? She took a couple of deep calming breaths and leant back against him. She was being absurd she told herself uncomfortably. She had nothing to fear from her husband. She could feel his big body surrounding her with his solid warmth. It must just be her nerves at leaving home and her family behind her she told herself resolutely. Keep it together Issy! Being the plain one of the family she had to live up to the epithet of having good common sense. Only beauties like Miriam could afford to have histrionics.

  It was cold and damp down by the docks and when they’d dismounted and had the horses stabled Issy kept close to her husband’s side. The people they encountered on their way to The Slaughtered Ewe inn avoided eye contact and scurried in the shadows. She knew her father would have said they were surrounded by thieves and scoundrels. She had a sinking feeling that he would have described their inn as a den of iniquity. When they entered the tap room everyone simultaneously stopped talking and turned their heads to stare at them. Issy shrank into Jorah’s side and felt her hand taken in a firm grasp. As soon as any of the gazes met her husband’s they looked hastily away and Jorah led their way to bar where he negotiated two rooms and a table for supper. She dreaded to think what the bedchambers in this place would be like but Geoffrey seizing their cloaks and belongings followed a serving wench up the stairs to prepare their rooms. He nodded goodnight before disappearing and she realised he would not be joining them for their meal. Jorah tugged her into the adjoining dining area and Alfric followed close behind her his mouth grim.

  “I can’t see Baris,” he commented scanning the room.

  “He’ll find us no doubt,” answered Jorah briefly. He headed for a free table on the far side of the room and sat next to her on the bench, Alfric opposite them.

  “Ale,” he ordered a passing servant. “A pitcher. And wine for the lady. What meat are you serving?” The fare was basic and Isolde suspected it would be bad. Still, she was hungry and her belly would appreciate the meal however plain so she vowed not to look too closely at the bread in search for weevils. Alfric she noticed was looking even more uptight than usual. She wondered if he was uncomfortable in their less than salubrious surroundings and eyed him with interest. He didn’t touch his ale when it was brought to the table and Isolde added water to her wine as the flavour was strong and not altogether pleasant. She sipped at it sparingly and only Jorah took a good long draught of his drink. She watched his eyes light up as a tall figure came stooping through the door his head covered in a rough grey hood. She glanced over as Jorah was half out of his seat she realised it must indeed be his brother. Just then the stranger’s eyes alighted on them, rapidly passing over the three of them before resting a moment on Alfric. Then they darted back to Jorah. He smiled and she could see the resemblance at once to her husband as well as their massive size.

  “Brother!” he hailed Jorah making his way over to them and dragging off his cloak. He and Jorah embraced. Issy glanced at Alfric who remained seated, a blank look on his face as the brother’s exchanged greetings.

  “I see you still have stoic Alfric in your keeping,” Baris commented finally looking in his direction. “You look even paler and sterner than the last time I saw you,” he laughed.

  Alfric gave a tight smile.

  “Baris,” he muttered. “You’ve grown taller.”

  No love lost there, thought Issy with surprise. She cast a look back at Baris who was now surveying her through shrewd appraising eyes.

  “And who might this plump little partridge be?” he asked raising his eyebrows at her. “A camp follower?” he hazarded removing his sword as he started to seat himself.

  “She’s my wife,” rumbled Jorah. “And I’ll thank you to keep a civil tongue in your head around her.”

  “Wife?” gaped Baris looking so stunned it was almost comical. “This little human wench?” He stared a moment before his gaze snapped into a thunderous frown. Jorah opened his mouth to speak but Alfric forestalled him, his hand shooting out to catch the other much larger man’s wrist.

  “Watch your mouth!” he said harshly. Baris stilled staring down at Alfric’s fingers wrapped around his wrist. His knuckles were turning white. Issy paled realising he must have him in a dreadful grip yet Baris did not utter a single word of reproach just watched Alfric in silence. Alfric swallowed as if suddenly realising all the eyes turned on him. He released Baris with obvious reluctance.

  “Please excuse Baris, my lady,” he said turning to Isolde. “He is mannerless, coarse and wholly unrefined. Barely fit company for a new bride.”

  Baris smiled unrepentantly.

  “How well you know me,” he murmured. “Sister-in-law is it?” he commente
d, rubbing his jaw. “An unexpected turn of events brother.”

  Jorah shrugged,

  “It was high time,” he answered mildly, draping his arm across Issy’s shoulders possessively.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” she interjected when she had the chance. Baris didn’t seem to want to meet her gaze, his eyes, a deeper blue than Jorah’s, kept slipping away. Instead he kept asking his brother for details of his military campaigns until the food was brought over. Issy ate her roast mutton until her hunger was assuaged. It was quite tough and a little greasy but with some crusty bread she managed to almost finish it. Alfric silently handed her a cloth to wipe her fingers on and she thanked him with a smile. To her utter astonishment Alfric actually smiled back at her. Baris dragged his chair back noisily making her jump and cutting the moment short. She glanced over at him and was startled to see her brother-in-law’s cold angry glare.

  “Well, well,” he said mockingly. “What a cosy setup.”

  “What’s that?” asked Jorah sharply.

  “I never thought I’d see the day when you’d share a woman with your beta brother.”

  Issy blinked as one moment her husband was sat next to her and the next the table had been overturned, Jorah had Baris by the throat and Alfric was shielding her from assorted flying plates, mugs and cutlery. She gasped as a series of nasty snarls rent the air as if a pack of feral dogs had ransacked the place. All around her was the sound of people stampeding for the exit. Issy stared around Alfric to see two huge wolves in the centre of the room. She recognised Jorah at once as the huge black wolf with flashing pale eyes. He had the large grey wolf by the throat pinned to the floor. Baris, she thought with horror was lying completely immobile.

  “No!” Issy cried slipping from Alfric’s grasp to dart towards her husband. “Please don’t Jorah!” She flung her arms around his neck and buried her face in his fur. “Don’t! Please!” She squeezed as tight as she could to make him aware of her presence. She saw his eyes roll back to look at her and the snarling abated. She sniffed. She didn’t dare look at Baris but she thought she could see his barrel-like chest rise and fall out of the corner of her eye.

  “My lady,” Alfric’s voice was very calm. “He sees you. I think if you step back now he will release his hold on him. Isn’t that right Jorah?”

  Isolde shuffled back breaking her contact with him. As soon as he fingers left his fur the growling started up again.

  “My miscalculation,” said Alfric hastily. “Please keep your hand on him.”

  Issy shot out her hand to place it on his back. The rumbling ceased again.

  Alfric breathed out.

  “Jorah, come on now. We both know what a jackass your brother is, but you don’t want to kill him. Not really.”

  There was a heavy pause before the black wolf opened his mouth wider and released the grey who immediately rolled onto his back in a sign of submission. Jorah’s head swivelled to look at her. She reached out without thinking and stroked his muzzle. He whined slightly and nuzzled her hand.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “I think our tab will be somewhat higher than anticipated,” sighed Alfric looking about them at the abandoned dining room and all the upturned chairs. Issy turned to look at him.

  “Keep your back turned my lady,” he said suddenly and Issy realised they must be transforming back into their human forms. She faced Alfric obediently.

  “Thank you,” she said softly.

  Again he gave her a small smile.

  “You’re very welcome,” he responded. “But really, I did nothing. You were the one who de-escalated the entire situation. He could have torn his throat out.”

  Issy swallowed convulsively.

  “Surely not,” she protested feebly.

  A hand landed on her shoulder and span her around. Jorah was staring hard into her eyes.

  “When?” he asked harshly.

  “I’m not really sure,” she answered, knowing straight away what he meant. “I kept thinking about it today on the journey and … I recognised your eyes last night. I just couldn’t quite accept it as truth.” She shrugged. “It seemed so fantastical.”

  Jorah dragged her forward into his arms, pulling her onto his bare chest as he’d only waited to don his pants. She sighed and closed her eyes against his warm flesh rippling with muscle, letting him hold her close. He ran his hand comfortingly up and down her spine. She reached up her hands to hug his waist tightly. She felt immediately cherished despite the grubby tavern surroundings.

  Baris coughed.

  “I can’t believe you’re cuddling in a dockside tavern,” he commented rubbing his neck tenderly. Issy could see the purple bruises forming there already.

  Alfric growled at him.

  “What are you still doing here? I’d make a hasty exit if I were you.”

  “Yes, you’d know all about hasty exits wouldn’t you Alfric,” Baris retorted bitterly.

  “Enough!” barked Jorah. “I’m taking my wife to bed.”

  “I’ll set things to rights with the landlord,” replied Alfric as Jorah swung her effortlessly up into his arms. “Let her get some sleep at least,” he hissed. Jorah stiffened and glowered at him before heading for the stairs. At his brother he didn’t even glance. Issy wrapped her arms around his neck as he took steps three at a time. She wasn’t sure how he knew which room was theirs but after a few short strides across the landing he was opening a door and before she knew it he had dumped her on the mattress and was tearing at his clothes in the effort to get naked. She struggled into a sitting position, noting the mattress was somewhat dilapidated but at least the bedclothes were clean. As she reached behind her for her dress fastenings she peered about her at the room, illuminated only in the faint candlelight. She could see their baggage by the door and started to struggle off the mattress to fetch her nightgown, but before she’d taken even two steps from the bed Jorah was on her, spinning her round and yanking at her lacings. She heard a faint tear in the material as he dragged it from her shoulders.

  “I can do it,” she told him breathlessly fearing for her wardrobe.

  “Not fast enough,” he answered grimly as he tugged it up and over her head. He threw it in the far corner and then reached for her, his eyes almost wild.

  “Jorah, can you please lock the door?” blurted Issy, conscious of the fact they were in a public inn. Anyone could come bursting in, she thought anxiously. He narrowed his eyes at her, and not removing his gaze from her as he steadily backed up to the door where he shot the bolt across. He was entirely naked Issy noticed, her eyes growing huge as she noticed his heavy cock curving up from his strong thighs. He was impossibly erect. What had gotten him so excited? She thought swallowing. She actually felt a little scared after the events downstairs and was ashamed to feel the flutterings below her stomach. She wanted him. She actually wanted his manhood deep inside her. She backed up to the bed almost reeling at the revelation. He was stalking towards her now with a low growl – an actual growl! She supposed it made sense now, she thought, shivering in her thin shift. The back of her knees hit the bed and she had no more room to back up. She licked her suddenly dry lips and heard his growl deepen as once again he span her round and then shoved her forward none too gently onto the bed. Issy squeaked as she fell face first onto mattress. She scrambled to her knees almost in a panic as she felt his heavy body coming up behind her, making the bed dip with a loud creak. Suddenly her hips were seized and she was pulled hard back against his big muscular body. She yelped feeling his rock-hard cock against her bottom. What was he doing? She cast her mind back to the hermit’s hut that morning. Was this what he’d had in mind for her then but decided against it? She could hear his breath coming hard and fast as he pulled up her shift and pressed himself against her skin to skin. She bit her lip, biting back breathless moan as she felt his excitement passing to her. She felt achy and heavy in her breasts, between her thighs. Whatever he was going to do to her, she would be willing she reali
sed, panting. Suddenly his big hard fingers were sliding into her wet warm cleft.

  “So wet for me,” he groaned. “My good little wife.”

  “Yes,” she breathed. “Yes.”

  He hesitated.

  “I need to join with you now,” he told her huskily. “Next time, I’ll go slower. I’ll make it up to you.” His words were shaky and she realised how close he was to losing control. Giving in to his beast. She shivered. Unable to help herself she pushed back on his two fingers, taking him deeper, up to the knuckle. He snarled, tearing his fingers away. She opened her mouth to wail at the loss but suddenly his broad cockhead was there, stretching her open, lodging himself into her tight passage. Yes, she groaned aloud. This was what she needed. His big nasty shaft, even though it made her eyes water. He shoved into her, his hips pushing forward and she pushed back, keening in the effort to take him in. His cock inched slowly forward, almost painfully as he breached her with the thick purple head. She felt her tender flesh start to give, her natural lubrication easing his passage and suddenly he was sliding into her with a loud guttural grunt. Her hips were seized in an almost bruising grip as he slammed into her, balls deep, up to the hilt.

  “Jorah!” She braced herself for the pain, but then it slowly dawned on her that there wasn’t any. Her eyes flickered back open. She moaned at the sensation of fullness, stuffed with his huge man-root. But she could take him, she realised. He had been right about that. She bowed her back, shoving herself back against his hard hips, savouring bigness, his swollenness buried in her. She felt her sheath quiver as she luxuriated in the exquisite feel of being stretched around him.