Accidental Surrogate

Sinclair

I smell Roger the moment I walk through the door. My wolf is immediately alert, and I approach the first guard I see. “Was my brother here?”

“Yes Alpha.” The man replies. “He requested a meeting with Ella, and she granted it.”

I do not like the sounds of that. “How long was he here? Is she alright?”

“They spoke for close to an hour.” The guard replies. “She didn’t seem upset afterwards, but she went to bed early and without supper.”

Worry simmers in my belly. If Roger was here it was undoubtedly to make trouble, and while Ella might have simply been exhausted, I don’t believe these events are unrelated. I haven’t eaten either, but I head straight upstairs to check on the mother of my pup. However when I reach my rooms, Ella isn’t there.

Instead I make my way downstairs to her suite, concern tying my insides into knots. I push open the bedroom door, following the luscious aroma that is Ella, and stalk silently inside. She’s curled up beneath the covers, sleeping as sweetly as can be. I’m smiling despite my inner turmoil, moving to sit by her side as she doses.

Ella is lying on her stomach, her arms folded up beneath her pillow, her rose gold hair spilling over her bare shoulders in a silky cascade. I brush a few locks away from her face, content to simply watch her sleep. She looks so angelic like this, and I feel a fresh wave of worry for what Roger might have said to her. Did she go to bed in her own rooms because I wasn’t home, or because Roger upset her?

I’ll kill him if he’s said or done anything to harm her. The thought circles ominously around me for a long moment, and I’m a bit taken about by the force of my conviction. I feel so protective of this little human – is it really only because she’s carrying my baby?

After a minute Ella’s brow furrows and she whimpers in her sleep. I worry she might be having another nightmare, which brings on yet another flood of possessive energy. What happened in her life that haunted her dreams this way? Was she reliving past horrors, or simply imagining terrors which haven’t actually come to pass? Something about the way she refused to talk about the last one makes me suspect the former.

I push the covers down only far enough to expose the curve of her spine, needing to feel her shape beneath my fingers. When I stroke one large hand down the graceful column she stirs and stretches, turning towards me and unconsciously cuddling closer. She blinks her brilliant eyes open a moment later, offering me a bleary eyed yawn. “You’re back.”

petting her slender waist and marveling at how small she is compared to me. The breadth of my hand easily circles her ribs, and I wonder

like a sultry torment to my oversensitized ears. “You

that’s any excuse.” I mockingly

me move?” She murmurs, though her eyes have already closed again and

muse, “I should make you

garner my sympathy and everything to make me contemplate claiming her plump,

tone light as I continue, “they also told me about your

hums with indignation, but doesn’t say

tell me what he

warning me.” She

I rumble, fearing I

Ella shrugs sleepily. “That your mate will come along one day and you’ll no

stretching into my touch like a sleepy kitten keeps me from jumping to my feet and growling. “He has no business saying such things to

not?” She purrs, “It’s

but he things you’re my second chance mate like everyone else. He thinks you’re a she-wolf and he has no right to interfere.” The truth is that he completely crossed a line. Ella isn’t familiar enough with our ways to understand how egregious his behavior truly was. If she was truly

my mate, and though I genuinely hate hearing her talk about a future where we aren’t together, I know she’s being pragmatic. That’s the arrangement we agreed upon. She

even finished the thought, my wolf is roaring in my head, driven over the edge by the idea of Ella being with anyone else. It takes all my willpower to keep him reined in, and I’m glad Ella is only half awake. I’m sure it’s just the pup growing in her belly – I wouldn’t care otherwise, but as long as she’s carrying my child, the idea of another man – even a human – coming

my scent again.” I observe, thankful that my voice sounds much calmer than I