Accidental Surrogate

Ella

“How are you feeling?” Sinclair asks, standing in the doorway of my bedroom. The wild hunt is tonight, and I know he’s not merely asking about my morning sickness or fatigue.

“Nervous.” I confess. “Do you think…” I trail off, blushing and unsure if I can actually speak the question I need to ask.

“What is it Ella?” He inquires, coming forward with an encouraging smile.

“Do you think I could see your wolf before we go tonight, just so that I’ll recognize it when I see you?” I whisper, barely loud enough to hear myself, but knowing Sinclair’s wolf ears will be more than capable of picking up on the sound. And so I won’t be scared. I add silently in my head.

“Of course.” He chuckles, “That’s a great idea. I should have thought of it myself.”

His powerful hands move to the buttons on his shirt, and I find myself taking a step back. “What are you doing?”

“You wanted to see my wolf, I don’t want to ruin this shirt.” He shrugs. “It’s one of my favorites.”

“Right.” I breathe, “Right, of course.”

He continues stripping off his clothes, and I work hard to avert my gaze. So far I’ve been very successful in avoiding temptation by not looking at his body in these vulnerable moments, and I’m not about to change that now – on the day when it’s more important than ever that we practice self control.

“Does it hurt, shifting?” I ask, staring at my fidgeting fingers.

Sinclair shares, “The first time is almost unbearable, it takes hours and hours, but once you’ve gotten it over with it happens fast as lightning, too quickly for you to feel the

old are you

little different for everyone – most make the change when they go through puberty.” Sinclair informs me, pulling off

my son – eventually suffering through this sort of grisly shift, and I don’t like

was as painful as anyone else’s. But my father was with me, he got me through it, just like I’ll

was a very gentle and supportive presence for Sinclair, and I know he’ll be the same. “I suppose…

my own body covered. I never realized until now how vulnerable it is to be undressed and exposed when others are not, but Sinclair doesn’t seem to mind one bit. He’s still wielding the power in this room, and part of me resents his constant strength. “Now, do you want to talk, or do

“Yes, sorry.” I flush.

I’ve shifted, you don’t want to be within reach of

as he ensures he’s not near anything breakable, then disappears. There’s a loud crack and the air seems to go blurry, I even feel a bit nauseous trying to keep track of the rapid movement. However when my eyes adjust and I’m able to take in the familiar room again, I see that where Sinclair was standing a moment before, now there is

I feel my jaw going slack. “That’s not a wolf that’s a bear!” I blurt

any natural wolf and probably almost as tall as I

actually the man who spends every night

eyes, sitting on the rug and waiting patiently for

filled with

Sinclair’s expression goes so mischievous and heated that I don’t need to hear him speak. I know exactly what he’s thinking and his mind is clearly in the gutter. “Not like that! You know what I mean.” I’m amazed that anyone could manage to be

would ever do something so very doglike, but then again his silly side always surprises me. Suddenly it seems positively hilarious that Dominic Sinclair is sitting in front of me with the squirmy energy of a puppy, and I realize that he’s holding himself back from approaching me until I’m comfortable

touch you?”

though I don’t know how I understand his reasoning, I know he’s waiting for me to come to him. It takes a minute for me to find the courage to move my leadened feet, but I manage. I slowly cross the room, feeling terribly anxious to be approaching a creature out of the horror stories I grew