Page 10 of Wolf Duke

“Lady Mother,” Alaric replied carefully. “Is something amiss?”

The elder queen pulled her fur-lined robe closer. “Perhaps we could move to the privacy of your library?”

“You don’t wish to sup in the Great Hall?”

“No. It must be your library.”

Alaric frowned, every instinct near-bellowing a warning. But after dismissing Wesley to Blanche’s care, Alaric followed his mother across the courtyard and into the castle proper. As soon as he stepped through the huge double doors, a faint scent wafted around him.

A new delicious scent. Like wildflowers and fresh herbs and sunshine.

“Did Blanche source new rushes?” he asked. “Or a different candle recipe, perhaps? I like it.”

His mother made an odd sound that almost seemed like…laughter? “Hurry, my son. The library,” she repeated, gathering her robe hem and near-running up the spiral steps to the second floor.

Utterly baffled at her behavior, Alaric continued to his favorite room in the castle, the one he spent most of his time and had furnished accordingly. Yet the moment he stepped into the library, he froze as the scent from below hit him like an anvil, overwhelming his senses, and wrapping around him like a cloak.

Goddess.

He sucked in a breath, his entire body craving it like a parched wolf craves water. The heady aroma was everywhere, yet how could that be? The room was empty. And he couldn’t even describe it, for what had seemed so innocently pleasing downstairs had a far different element up here. Something raw and carnal, like the hottest, wettest cunt, begging to be filled.

In the blink of an eye, his cock was harder than stone.

What is this madness? Have I been poisoned? Enchanted?

“Alaric? Are you well?”

Embarrassment scorched across his cheekbones, and he stumbled across the room to sit behind his desk and hide his affliction. Then he groaned softly.

Goddess.

How could it be even stronger here? Soon he’d be grinding himself against his damned desk!

“Quite well,” he bit out, his fists clenching as his cock ached and he fought the urge to rip off his hose and spend all over his chair. The scent made him want to rut until he couldn’t move. It urged him to.

“You don’t look well, my son,” chirped his mother gaily.

Why is she so damned cheerful? Has she lost her wits?

“If you have something to say, Mother, then by all means say it,” Alaric growled.

The elder queen drew herself up to her full height and inclined her head. “Very well. While you were in London with the human king, Blanche rescued a gaunt, starving waif who was hiding in an abandoned fox’s den. In a great turn of fortune’s wheel, that waif is…Princess Evaine de Wynter.”

His jaw dropped. Then the warmth of pure relief kindled inside him, flowing everywhere like molten gold. “Are you sure?”

“I’m absolutely certain.”

Alaric couldn’t help smiling at something so momentous. A de Wynter heir, alive! “I could not be more pleased. That is glorious news.”

“Oh, that is only half the tale, my son. The other half is even more important.”

“What could possibly be more noteworthy than Princess Evaine, safe in my castle?”

“She is your fated mate.”

How had she not known that Blackstone Castle was enchanted?

Evaine padded back and forth across her chamber, blinking wearily, her body craving sleep but her mind racing faster than a hungry wolf chasing a deer.