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?

orgasms are the best

slept away from Sinclair, when I was finally free to get some relief from the fire he keeps constantly lit inside

have to admit it would be nice to have

seemed to understand that women can’t just magically get off with a few thrusts. I always enjoyed sex for the intimacy, and though it always felt good, orgasms had always been my own responsibility – mine

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 like me to make you feel good? Nothing about his own desires, nothing about going

sharply, unsure whether I’m speaking to the memory or my inner voice. Sinclair is watching me like a hawk, and the hungry expression he’s wearing makes me worry that my expression is giving away my lurid thoughts. Before he can say a word, I lean into his side, turning my face towards his shoulder so I can breathe in his scent.

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

worse condition than I am.” I remind him sulkily. “We should be asking your doctors, not

go as soon as I write this prescription. I’ll come and check on her the day after tomorrow, but call me

me like I’m not here.” I grumble. “That will keep

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

the gesture, that I barely notice I forgot to thank the doctor. Sinclair isn’t growling, or scolding me, he’s not even kissing me or trying to sneak an intimate caress, he’s simply hugging me – squeezing me with barely restrained

he knows I’m asking out of concern, not

his face from my neck, only high enough to speak into my ear. “Today was horrible.” He says, his voice like gravel, “every last minute

though.” I answer softly. “And so is the baby –

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