Accidental Surrogate

Ella

I’m so focused on Sinclair, I don’t even see the car until it’s almost upon me.

I’m too stunned to move, not that there’s time to get out of the way. The only thing I can do it try to turn my body away from the vehicle, to shield my unborn child from the inevitable crash.

Time itself seems to slow down, and there’s a dull roaring in my ears. My thoughts fly by, and I’m amazed at the logical clarity I’m able to find in a single, split second. I tell myself to go limp, the impact won’t be as terrible if my body isn’t tense with fear. Isn’t that why drunk people often survive car accidents that would be fatal otherwise?

Unfortunately I don’t have time to unwind my tight muscles, as soon as I’ve had the thought a huge weight collides with my back, slamming into me with so much force the breath is knocked from my lungs. I’m spinning, twisting as the wall of iron surrounds me, forcing my feet off the ground. A deafening crash fills the air, though it seems delayed. Haven’t I already been hit?

Then I’m being thrust forward, or is it backwards? I’m moving, flying through the air and yet my limbs are completely constrained. My eyes are clenched shut, and the sound of wrending metal and shattering glass explodes around me. It’s all so sudden, I don’t have time to be afraid, to say prayers for my baby, if not for myself.

I wait for the pain, but it doesn’t come. After a few moments of holding my breath I realize I’m not moving anymore. Am I dead? Was it so sudden that I didn’t feel it?

I peek open one eye, and sunlight blinds me. Is there a sun in the afterlife? I know shifters have a version of heaven, but I didn’t imagine humans got to go there.

There’s a click, like a car door opening, and then the sound of racing footsteps. “Catch them!” Sinclair’s deep voice snarls, so loud that I think he must be yelling in my ear.

warm? I wonder belatedly, imagining myself sprawled over the hood of a vehicle, in too much shock to feel the impact on my

talking again, and I open my other eye, anxious to see him. Instead I see the empty street in front of me. “Please say something.” He begs, his gentle hands moving over my body from behind. “Are you hurt?

time. We’re sitting on the hood of the car – at least what used to be the hood. Sinclair’s huge body has completely totaled the vehicle. Slowly – infuriatingly slowly, my brain pieces together what must have happened. Sinclair had been fast enough to reach me, but he hadn’t had time to push me out of

ground. I vomit into the pristine white snow, feeling Sinclair follow me at a pace much too slow for his supernatural strength. I’m afraid to look at him, but he’s hovering beside me, surreptitiously running his hands over my body, searching for signs of injury yet trying not to disturb . “Stop.” I choke, “I’m alright… it’s you –” I finally turn to

his shifter strength might have kept him alive, but not even an Alpha wolf can walk away from such an accident unharmed. His handsome face is a tight grimace of pain, but I’m not sure

Dominic,” I choke, my voice thick with emotion as I reach towards his battered body. His shirt has been torn to shreds by glass from the windshield,

distance. I follow the sound with my eyes, catching our chauffeur wrestling the homicidal driver to the ground a few meters down the road. He must have tried to make a run for it when the car stalled, unable to simply plow through Sinclair’s iron body the way it would have my own. I immediately recognize the driver as one of the rogues who attacked me in the alley,

feel only a flood of vengeful fury, more violent and feral than any I’ve known before. That rogue hurt Sinclair. He wanted to end my baby’s

myself up on shaky legs and

me

to kill him!” I insist, not recognizing this bloodthirsty woman I’ve apparently

I can already hear sirens in the distance, loud, shrill, and drawing closer

my overflowing lashes. “He hurt

if the internal engine that fuels his rumbles and growls has been damaged. “I know little one, we’ll make him pay, just take

“You’re all bloody.” I observe pitifully, wishing I knew how to heal his wounds.

petulant toddler, though admittedly a very violent one. Still, Sinclair isn’t listening, the stubborn man has his palm pressed to my belly, his eyes scouring me for the hundredth time. “The baby’s