Accidental Surrogate

My breath starts to come short and fast now as I press my hand desperately to my stomach, seeking that connection somewhere within me. But I feel like I’m grasping through empty air, my fingers searching for any touch, any tie, and coming up empty.

“Ella,” Sinclair murmurs, tightening his hands against my back. “Calm down – the doctors say that it’s okay, that he’s still with us –”

“Still with us,” I growl, my teeth clenched as I try to manifest that damn connection, to make it appear even when it stubbornly refuses to present itself. “How can he still be with us if I can’t feel him?”

Sinclair shushes me softly again, a soft rushing sound that despite my desperation – makes me open my eyes and look at him. My fear comes rushing in then, wiping out my anger and

frustration. “Dominic, what does it mean?” I ask, my voice trembling. “If the doctor’s say they have a heartbeat – but we can’t feel him?”

“I don’t know, Ella,” he responds, his own voice low with worry and despair. “But we’re going to figure it out, okay? Together?” He pulls his brows together, worried, and nods to me, begging me to see. “Please, just calm down. We’ll think it through.”

I nod quickly, bobbing my head in agreement and forcing my body to relax. Sinclair moves beneath me, folding his legs instead of kneeling, pulling me into his lap and cradling me against his chest. I rest my head against him, making myself breathe slow, deep breaths, letting the warm scent of him root me in my body.

God, how long have I been gone? I have…memories. Memories of being here, of dancing, of being in the clouds and in the trees…of flickering in and out of this place. I push my mind back further and remember, quite suddenly, the last place I was

On the steps, with Cora, handing her the gift…watching her use it…

I cringe at the memory, of the feeling of drowning in my mother’s power, of all of it draining from me as I handed it to Cora, taking my life with it. I look up into Dominic’s face then and find him there, ready, likewise peacefully breathing. Waiting.

“Cora?” I ask quietly.

is fine. But…don’t worry about

badly for years and years. And in these past few months of happiness with Sinclair, I have letmyself imagine a beautiful future. I imagine him covered in pasta sauce the first time he tries spaghetti, imagine his first steps, imagine

losing him, of losing that beautiful future – it’s so horrible I can hardly stand it. I feel myself physically cringing at the idea, curling further into Sinclair’s arms as he tightens his hold around

idea that it could all be

open at that. I suddenly sit up straighter in Sinclair’s

he asks, curious, a little frightened

“We’re in a dream.” “Well, yeah,” Sinclair says, as if it’s obvious.

ignoring his interruption, “we can make anything happen that we want. Yes?” Sinclair studies my face and doesn’t say anything, letting me continue. “And you’re here,” I insist, starting

Sinclair confirms slowly, still not getting where I’m going with this.

back right now you kissed me – can’t

my feet, to head

hesitates, “I don’t know if it will work –”

look at him and frowning. “Why not?”

just – I’ve never heard of it happening before. I’m able to come into your dreams because I’m your mate – I’ve never heard of a mother sharing her dream

rolling my eyes a little. “Well just because

this is what we’re fighting for. For the bond between us, for the push and pull, for the fact that we’re sitting in a dream, in

completely understands. That he gets it too. That this thing between us? It’s worth trying anything so

pressing a quick kiss to my mouth. “Lead the way, trouble. You’re in charge now.”