Her exiled Gamma

 *Castor*  “I say, this is a marvelous opportunity for one of us to snag herself an Alpha”.  The raspy voice ... like fine sandpaper massaged over velvet, a bit of roughness against tantalizing softness ... forces me to come awake with a jolt of pure physical want that nearly makes me groan as my c**k responds with a need that will go unsatisfied this morning. Not that I have a particular interest in bedding this particular She-wolf.  On the best of days, I find Miss Kiona … Kitty to her friends … optimistic presence deuced irritating, but at this precise minute her wretched cheerfulness is particularly annoying because tiny hammers are bombarding my skull, my stomach is roiling, and I am striving to remember how I have come to be lying face down in the dirt behind the hedgerows near the terrace where my sister is no doubt enjoying a morning gathering with her dear friend, who has been residing with us for a fortnight now, while her parents tour the southern Isles. Obviously too much scotch last night is partially responsible for my unwelcomed state, but I am no stranger to inebriation and have never before ended up where I didn't want to be. Also as a wolf I burn through it pretty fast. What else have I gotten up to that has led me to a garden bed rather than a more enticing one with sheets ?  “But surely the Alpha is in want of a debutante". A sterner voice suggests. Miss Jade, another friend to my sister, is equally irritating. Apparently, she has decided to join them at this ungodly hour, whatever it is. When the trio is together, gossip flows, and silence is not to be found. Right now, I dearly crave silence. “Closing in on four and twenty, we're nearly on the shelf. We would be lucky to attract a Gamma”.  “Not a gamma. Never a gamma”. Miss Kitty insists. “That would not work for me at all”.  It isn't the first time I have overheard her make such a claim in a tone that implies to find herself shackled with anything but an Alpha would be the equivalent of encasing herself in horse manure. In spite of my foggy mind, the words sting. Capturing the heart of a lower ranked wolf is not the worst circumstance that could befall a woman. I know Alpha’s whose breath could knock a man over at twenty paces, some whose laugh resembles a mule’s bray, or with hands as soft as porridge, and some with boils. Although considering my present state, I have to acknowledge that I might not be the best one to cast stones.  Besides, I am well aware that Miss Kitty is not alone in her distaste for those never destined to inherit a pack. It is one of the reasons that at twentyseven, I have yet to do any serious wooing. Another reason is that as the future Gamma, I am not required to provide an heir.  And I enjoy bachelorhood. No responsibilities. A modest allowance. An abundance of spirits, wagering, and women of questionable moral character at my disposal. Every night is bursting with escapades, although the mornings are beginning to become quite tedious. It isn't bad when I awake next to a warm, willing body, but of late, if I am honest, I am growing a bit bored with them as well. Not so bored, however, that I prefer awakening among the hedgerows.  How the bloody hell did I end my night here ?  “As Cupid's arrow has struck true in my case”. Isadora announces with calm determination and a bit of glee at her recent good fortune. “I cannot help but believe, dearest friends, that you both will join me in betrothal bliss before this Season's end”.  “Chad is one fortunate fellow”. Miss Kitty says. “All of the city knows you have completely won him over, and he will make a marvelous husband. He is besotted with you. Absolutely besotted”.  I imagine my sister, blushing and smiling at the mention of the future Alpha. Isadora is equally besotted with the man she is to marry in January.  “As I said, like me, you will soon receive offers. I'm positively certain of it. And here is the perfect opportunity to put my prediction to the test”. My sister says.  “But is this the best way to go about it ?” Miss Jade asks. “To write a letter to the Alpha outlining why he should choose me over all others ? It seems rather forward”.  “The Alpha of Brinsley is an extremely busy man, overseeing his vast estates and increasing his fortune, by all accounts”. Miss Kitty says. “He doesn't have time to court one woman after another until he finds one who might be suitable. I think he's brilliant to come up with this strategy”.  The Alpha of Brinsley, the most eligible and sought-after bachelor among the high packs.   The man avoids the social scene, stays in the city only long enough to see to his duties in the Court of Alphas, and never loses at games of chance. As far as I know, the Alpha has few close friends. He wields wealth, power, and influence in equal measure thanks to a title that has carried weight for generations. Which might explain the advert he has placed in the Alpha Times encouraging the daughters of peers to write to him explaining why he should consider them as a potential Luna. Audition for him through the post. He will announce his selection at a ball he is hosting the last evening in June, will court her the remainder of the mating Season, and if he finds her to be as appealing as her letter indicates, he will marry her before the end of the next Season.  Neat and tidy and so absolutely boring. I prefer to experience that first unexpected hint of allure, of interest, and then to explore the potential in a slow, seductive unraveling that reveals commonalities, differences, and secrets. I like discovering how everything comes together to make a woman intriguing. Some things I discover before I bed her, some things during, some things after. But I always enjoy uncovering the various parts that create the whole. Even if, when the whole takes shape, I lose interest, I still relish the journey. For me, it is always about savoring the discoveries, appreciating each nuance as though it is a fine wine I have never before tasted.  “I'm not certain it's brilliant”. Miss Jade says. It isn't. It is damned lazy. It is an injustice to the woman, reduces her to a list of attributes, as though she is no more important than cattle. Besides, can a woman even know herself well enough to understand what any particular man might fancy about her ? “But I suppose there is no harm in writing to him. It's not as though I have suitors falling at my feet”.  “Jolly good! I have always found competition encourages us to call to our better selves”. Miss Kitty exclaims heartily, causing insidious pain to travel through my ears and brain.  I can’t hold back my groan of discomfort.  “What the deuce is that ?” My sister asks, and I wish I could curl into a minuscule ball or scooch my way around to the side of the house, but any movement at all is bound to elicit an objection from my aching head and increase the severity of the pounding in my skull.  Best to merely lie still and hope the ladies simply go on about their business.  I hear the rustle of leaves and the snap of a twig. Apparently hope is not the best of strategies.  “Castor ? What the devil are you doing sprawled out over the ground back there ?” My sister asks.  Squinting ... is the morning sun always this bright ? ... I peer up at Isadora. “To be honest, I'm not quite sure, but it does appear I got lost returning home last night”. For some inexplicable reason I have not used the front door. Perhaps I had been unable, with clumsy fingers, to grasp the key nestled in my waistcoat pocket. Although, patting said pocket now, I find it empty. Had I misplaced the bit of brass ?  “You were well in your cups again, weren't you ?” She says with a sigh.  "I do seem to recall some celebrating going on”. For a while the games had favored me… until they hadn't. What is a man supposed to do when fortune slips away except seek solace in drink ?  “Well, stir yourself and come out of there”. She orders briskly, as though she isn't three years my junior but is instead my elder.  With a great deal of effort, I shove myself to my feet, press my back to the brick, and creep out through the narrow space between wall and foliage, trying to avoid getting snagged by the sharp-edged leaves of the hedges. When I reach my sister, she scrunches up her entire face. "You smell like a distillery”.  “How do you know how a distillery smells ?” Looking past her to the two women sitting at the white linen-covered round table, I force my most charming grin to form a smile I don’t feel like granting, not only because of the increased ache in my head but because of what I have overheard. “Ladies, how are you this fine morning ?”  “I daresay better than you”. Miss Kitty retorts, using the tone she seems to reserve only for me.  “Here”. Isadora says, reaching quickly for the teapot. “Have a spot of tea. You look as though you could use it”.  Tea is nowhere on the list of things I could use. A hot bath ... I do indeed smell like a distillery, along with a cheroot factory ... a shave, and the blackest coffee would serve me better. If the other ladies hadn't been staring at me with twin expressions of disgust, I might have made my excuse and headed straight to my most urgent need: a soft bed. But knowing I will take some perverse delight in irritating them by delaying my escape and joining them, I drag back a chair, drop into it, and take the offered cup and saucer. “You are indeed kind, dear sister”.  It is so like her, looking out for others. I really don’t deserve to have a sister so generous of spirit. Peering through the steam rising from the brew, I take a long, slow swallow. She has laced it with an abundance of sugar, and my body reacted with gratitude, the ache behind my eyes dissipating a fraction so the day seems at least survivable.  Miss Kitty looks on disapprovingly, a tightness to her mouth, and I wouldn't have been surprised if she had announced. “You're better than this”.  Only I am not. Precisely because of what she had voiced earlier. No one wants the future Gamma, I am a no-one.  Not the she-wolves of the packs. Not my father. Not my mother. Even the heir, two years older than I am, has little time for me. But scotch, cards, and actresses seldom turn me away.  “Perhaps your brother's presence here is fortuitous”. Miss Jade says. “You no doubt overheard what we were discussing”.  “I apologize, ladies, as it was not my intention to eavesdrop, but you did manage to garner my undivided attention with your dulcet tones”. I admit.  While Miss Kitty fairly glares, signaling she has caught the sarcasm in my tone, Miss Jade smiles as though I have handed her one of the Crown Jewels. She has never struck me as being particularly cognizant of subtleties. “Then perhaps you would be good enough to share with us how we might impress upon the Alpha that we are worth considering for courtship”.  "How would he know what an Alpha wants ?” Miss Kitty asks.  I allow a corner of my mouth to ease up provocatively, sensually. “An Alpha wants what any man wants. A woman who is a saint in society and a wild wanton in the bedchamber”.  Her hazel eyes narrows until they resemble the finely honed blade of a dagger. She riles so easily, and for some inexplicable reason, I have always taken great delight in pricking her temper. “That is hardly helpful”. She snaps.  “But it’s true”. I say with a shrug.  “We are she-wolves of good breeding, and as such, we have hardly been bedded so can offer no insight into our capabilities beneath the sheets, as it is”. She says and I imagine her beneath the sheets, with me stirring her until she fully comprehends her capacity for pleasure. As my body begins to respond to the images, I shove them back. Whatever is wrong with me to even contemplate an intimacy with her ? “Besides, it is for our husband to tell us what he wants regarding that particular aspect of our marriage”.  "Why ?” I ask, truly befuddled. “Why should he be the only one to have a say ? Surely, Freckles, you've given some thought to what you might enjoy”.  “I have not”. She counters testily.  “The lady doth protest too much, me thinks”. I mumble.  She huffs. “Don't be absurd. Ladies do not sully their minds by thinking carnal thoughts".  “If you've never thought about them, how do you know they will sully your mind ?” I ask.  “You're being preposterously difficult”. She rolls her eyes.  "No, I'm actually curious as to what you envision happens between a man and a woman that would be so lurid as to tarnish an otherwise pristine brain if pondered or mulled over”.  She looks as though she would like to toss her tea on me. “You know it well enough”.  Her voice has gone lower, more gravelly, causing my belly to tighten.   “Caresses along bare skin, the nip of a collarbone, a squeeze here, a rub there ? Kisses along curves, hollows, and dips ? How is any of that sordid ?'' I ask.  Her lips have slowly parted, and her cheeks have deepened from an enticing rose into a lovely crimson. I wonder if, like me, she is now imagining my bare hand, fingers splayed, on her bare thigh, slipping up toward that heavenly apex where paradise waits, previously untouched and unexplored. Christ. What the devil is wrong with me ? She is the very last woman I have any interest in bedding. It doesn’t matter that her coppery hair turns the shade of fire when lit by the sun, and that I have, on occasion and much to my chagrin, wondered if it would be as hot to the touch, if it would spark pleasure. It doesn’t matter that her fragrance is more spicy than sweet, and I have always enjoyed foods with a great deal of seasoning. It doesn’t matter that her lips are more pink than red, and on the rare occasion where I paint, I prefer the subtle allure of pastels.  “Castor, I'm not quite certain this is an appropriate topic of discussion considering the company". Isadora remarks hesitantly.  “But that is my point”. I do hope they will attribute the croak of my voice to me having recently been pulled from slumber and not the fact that my mouth has suddenly gone as arid as a desert. “It shouldn't be taboo. Men are allowed to think about it, discuss it, experience it ... without the benefit of marriage. Why shouldn't women ?"  A series of gasps met that pronouncement. I shake my head. “Even if a woman is not to experience it without marriage ...”. Although I don’t agree with that belief. “... She should at least be able to think about it and discuss it without shame, without fearing she has somehow dirtied her mind”.  I give my attention back to Miss Kitty. “You really never think about it ?”  "I do not”. She huffs.  “Then, how can you know what you want, what you might enjoy ?” I ask.  Her eyes avoid me. “As I stated earlier, it is for my husband to show me”.  “You have never struck me as a woman without an opinion on any matter”. I lean forward. “I would wager a month's allowance that you have thought about it, and quite thoroughly”.  That her nostrils flares and her breaths seems to slow only serves to tighten my belly more. What images does she conjure in that mind of hers ?  “Castor, I do believe you have just called our guest a liar”. Isadora says, her upset evident in her tone.  Because she is. Not that I am going to call her on it again, but damned if I don’t want to uncover her fantasies. “My apologies. It seems I am not yet fit for company as my indulgences from last night are still having their way with me”. I shove back my chair and stand. Then I turn my attention to Miss Jade, who had first posed the question, because studying Miss Kitty is beginning to make me feel light-headed as blood wants to rush where it shouldn't. “Write to the Alpha of your comely features, mastery of etiquette, interests, and accomplishments”.  “Thank you, Castor”. She says.  I offer her a small smile. “And may the best she-wolf win”.  With that, I leave them and stride into the residence, knowing the hot bath I had craved earlier will have to wait. Miss Kitty might not allow thoughts to sully her mind, but now mine is filled with a sordid display of her body writhing against mine that requires me to plunge into a bitingly cold tub of water first.