Accidental Surrogate

Ella

“I wonder what Cora’s up to,” I sigh as I stand by the window rocking Rafe, who his crying a little and fussing in my arms. I know that he doesn’t need anything – he’s been fed, burped, changed, and everything else a baby could want. He’s just crying to cry, and I give a defeated little sigh, smiling at him and knowing that he just has to take a minute to work it out.

Sinclair, sitting on the bed with papers spread out all around him, glances up at me. You haven’t had any word from her?” he asks.

“No,” I reply, shaking my head. The last thing I heard was from the guards, who said they got separated form Cora and Roger by a flash flood. I’m…worried about her.”

“You know Roger will take care of her,” Sinclair says passively, flicking through the papers, looking for one in particular.

“I know,” I sigh, bobbing Rafe in my arms. “But even Roger can’t protect against the forces of nature. It’s just so strange – they’re only three hours away, and they’re apparently caught in some kind of hurricane? And we’ve got sunny skies?” I turn again towards the window, frowning. Something that feels uncannily like my mother’s gift pulses inside me, making my wolf turn towards it in attention, cocking her head to the side curiously. But neither of us know what to make of it, so I sigh again.

Rafe lets out a little wail then, working one of his little arms free of his blanket and waving an angry fist in the air.

“Oh baby,” I murmur, leaning down to give him a little kiss. “What do you have to worry about? You’re not stuck out in a storm. You’re here safe, with mommy!”

“Maybe he’s picking up on mommy’s anxiety,” Sinclair says, standing up from the bed and coming next to us, reaching for the baby. “Maybe he feels it down the bond

“Don’t blame me for your child’s bad attitude,” I say, joking and handing Rafe over into his father’s arms, whose size remind me again of the tiny delicacy of my baby boy “He gets that from your side. I’m no crybaby”

Sinclair laughs, rocking the baby in his arms, and Rafe quiets almost instantly, his yowl softening to an angry little murmur “Why,” Sinclair asks, “do you always suggest that his undesirable qualities come from me? I come from excellent stock”

“Hecause,” I say, standing on tip toe to look down at my baby’s perfect little face, raising a hand to tieke his belly a little I’m jealous, a bit, that he quiets so readily in his father’s aums, but not jealous enough to take him back if it means he’ll cry. Alongside the jealousy, there’s also a part of me that loves Rafe’s connection with his father, that he like me – finds comfort in the Alpha’s arms “My genetic line is that of a perfect Goddess You can’t beat that ”

too, you know,” Sinclair reminds

say, grinning up at him. “A king. I win.

knock at the door. We both turn to it, Rafe settling

linterrupting?” Henry asks curiously.

Sinclair says, smiling and moving forward. “No- but how-how did you get

if it’s obvious. He looks to me then. This chair is really state of the art,” he says, gesturing to the chair I

me. “I thought I told you to arrange to get

to hide the fact

pat him on the arm, knowing that it’s the right choice Henry should have free run

practical,” Henry says, raising his eyebrows at his son “But I came up with information,” he says, pulling a folder from the little pocket by his side, “on the cult that Roger and

moving behind his chair to look over his shoulder, eager to know more. Sinclair

It actually makes sense that the book that Cora and Roger found was so old, because the Monastic Cult of the God of Darkness secrecy. As the book reports, they never write anything down and pass all of their traditions from brother to brother. This has allowed them to operate in the background for decades, largely unnoticed. It’s actually rather a miracle that that book reported anything about them – our best guess is that, in fact, the scholar who

and my mate. “But they’re still…operating?

start leaving a bit of a

responsible for switching the sperm that brought Ella and I together. They, for some reason, wanted Rafe to be

in sending a robed member to do their work. The high-ranking members of the Cult who wear the robe are, apparently, notoriously reclusive. It is perhaps to our luck that the man who tricked Cora – and,” he shifts his gaze to me, “who has been, apparently, following the two of you

coming to stand at Sinclair’s side and folding my arms over my chest. “Why

a particular affinity for magic, or someone with great strength. We know, for instance, that the Goddess’s priests were keeping an eye on

considering that that makes sense, and look up at my mate. His eyes, however, are fixed steadily on his father.

is it, dad,” Sinclair says, his tone suddenly sharp.

speaks any secrecy to

see through me, Dominic,” he murmurs.