Accidental Surrogate

Ella

Where is Sinclair? I think nervously, scanning the room. He promised he wouldn’t leave my side. Why did I ever let myself get separated from him. The crowd around me is still bombarding me with questions, and though I think I’m putting up a good front, I can’t help but feel overwhelmed. My pulse is racing, and the blood is rushing in my ears. I’m not ready for this. I’ve only had two days to prepare, surely they’re going to see right through my act!

I’m getting more and more light headed by the minute, and my stomach is beginning to churn. I think I’m going to be sick, but I’m not sure if it’s morning sickness, or my nerves. I might be excited about the idea of the baby making it’s presence known, but this is the last place I want to get sick.

I turn in place, searching the room for any kind of restroom. I can’t ask any of the aristocrats around me, speaking about such a private matter with people of this stature would be considered incredibly inappropriate. However before I can figure out a possible retreat, I see Sinclair striding through the crush of shifters, his brow furrowed as he watches me.

The people around me disappear when he finally closes the distance between us, and I’m amazed to feel my nausea and my nerves settle as soon as I breathe in his scent and feel his warm presence. “Are you alright?” He asks with concern, brushing the hair out of my face.

Though I feel far better than I did a moment ago, I’m still terribly overwhelmed. My lower lip trembles, and I wonder if I’m really so stressed that I might cry, or if it’s just my pregnancy hormones spinning out of control. I don’t want to show weakness in front of Sinclair, I don’t want him to think I’m not up to playing this role. I not only have to prove myself to all these strangers, but to the father of my child. I plaster a wide smile across my face. “I’m fine.”

He narrows his eyes, sidling closer and dipping his head to my ear. “Are you being honest, sweet Ella?”

honesty about my feelings? If I don’t want to talk about them, that’s my choice. I’m about to tell him as much, when his low growl ricochets

clearly sensing that there’s

not like how easily he can read me. Either that means I’m failing in my act, or his connection to our pup is giving him an unfair advantage sensing my emotions. To be honest, I’m not sure which possibility frightens me more. Still, I can’t stop myself from speaking, though I refuse to look him in the

spine

crow oohing and ahhing at the display, an Alpha caring for his mate. Is that why he’s doing this? Does he actually care about my feelings, or is he just putting on a show?

me with such suspicion a little while ago. “Breeding women can be

to my surprise, it doesn’t come from Sinclair – it comes from me! I don’t think I’ve ever growled in my life. Is that the pups influence? Sinclair probably thinks it’s part of my act, trying to pass myself off as

me. “My apologies, your highness.” Sinclair states simply. “She’s a fierce little thing at the best of times.” The words sound like an excuse for my behavior, but his tone is full

his address for the other man filters through my brain. Your Highness. That must mean this is the prince, and

like he means a single word of this. “In fact, your loving display has inspired me! What’s say we play a game, to celebrate your

tensed, but his reply tells me saying no isn’t really an option here. After all, the entire point of this evening is to sell