Accidental Surrogate

Ella

“Bed rest?” I repeat, glancing nervously at Sinclair. “You mean until the baby comes?”

“No, I don’t think we have to do anything quite that extreme yet.” The doctor replies with a kind smile, “For now let’s start with a few weeks. Beyond that we can take it as it comes.”

“What does that mean exactly?” Sinclair inquires, his large body looming over me. His heat, which sometimes reminds me too much of a blazing furnace when we’re curled in bed together, is a welcome balm now, washing over me in a tide of cozy comfort. “She can’t get out of bed at all?”

“No, it’s not that severe.” The doctor assures us. “Ella can get up to go to the restroom, or move around to switch positions. She can take two short walks every day – one in the morning, one in the evening but no more than twenty minutes and if you find yourself getting tired or overwhelmed before then, you need to stop. Absolutely no stairs or physical exertion though, and no standing for more than twenty minutes at a time – for any reason.”

My heart sinks, and I try not to let my disappointment show. It’s not the end of the world after all, it just means I’m going to be a bit bored. “Do I have to be completely on my back, or is sitting up okay?”

“Choose whatever position is most comfortable for you.” He continues, looking back and forth between us. “More importantly, no stress whether you’re in bed, on the couch, or wherever you choose. That means no campaign events, no excitement.”

“And if she does get excited, despite our efforts?” Sinclair inquires, an odd note in his voice.

“I’m going to send you home with some sedatives in case of emergencies, and while I would advise you keep sexual activity to a minimum, if the tension is building up it’s better to indulge it than to resist – just remind your wolf to be gentle with her.”

I blink. Who said anything about sex? Is that what Sinclair was getting at, but I just didn’t understand the nuance? How is that not physical exertion?

best stress relievers. The little voice in my head

I think back, recalling the last night I slept

it would be nice

few thrusts. I always enjoyed sex

with Sinclair. My conscience intimates, sparking memories of the few times we’ve gotten carried away – when I’ve had glimpses of the pleasure he could give me if I would only succumb to his charms. His words the day of the ball – after the incident, as I’ve decided to call it – ring in my mind: Now, would you

he can say a word, I lean into his side, turning my face towards his shoulder so I

coming on such short notice. Can I take her home now?” He asks bluntly, as if I’m

in much worse condition than I am.” I remind

otherwise doesn’t acknowledge my words. He looks back to the OB, who smiles warmly, “she’s free to go as soon as I write this prescription. I’ll come and check on her the day after tomorrow, but call me

talk about me like I’m not here.” I grumble. “That

The doctor replies, completely unphased by my petulant words. “I’ll see

moment he turns away, Sinclair moves in front of me, sliding his muscular arms around my middle and burying his face in my neck. I’m so surprised by the gesture, that I barely notice I forgot to thank the doctor. Sinclair isn’t growling,

this isn’t his usual mischief or bossiness, I wrap my arms around his broad shoulders, returning the embrace and nuzzling his scruffy jaw. “Hey, what is it?” I murmur, holding him as tightly as I can so that he knows I’m asking out of concern, not some desire to be released. It’s only when I feel the bandages beneath his shirt that I remember his wounds, but as soon as I try to take my arms away, Sinclair rumbles

my neck, only high enough to speak into my ear. “Today was

answer softly. “And so is the baby – this

don’t like it.” He insists, sounding as sullen as I was feeling a few minutes ago. “You shouldn’t have to worry about this on top of everything else… and I hate that I can’t… I can’t protect you from