Accidental Surrogate

Chapter 342: Bunker Life 

Ella

Sinclair and I wake up late the next morning and frankly I’m grateful that everyone let us sleep in. We had to get up to feed Rafe, of course, but even with that? It’s the most sleep I’ve gotten in a long time.

“Morning,” I murmur, turning over to Sinclair and slinging a leg up over his hip, feeling just… ridiculously relaxed for someone who fought off a pack of kidnappers in her bedroom yesterday.

Sinclair doesn’t say anything, just growls a hungry little greeting and pulls my naked body closer to his, rolling over me a little so that I can feel the delicious weight of him on top of me as he kisses my neck, my shoulder, and then my mouth. “We’re skipping breakfast,” he murmurs, sliding his hand leisurely down the length of my body, “I have different idea for how we can spend

the time

”

“Noooo,” I moan in protest, my stomach audibly growling in support. “I need fooooood!”

Sinclair laughs and pulls away from me then. “Am I not sustenance enough for you?” he asks

pretending to be offended. “Here,” he says, offering his arm, bulging with muscles, “take a bite. It

will keep you going.”

I bare my teeth and lean forward towards it, making my mate laugh, but then I just press a quick kiss to the arm and push him away, reaching for the baby who is starting to fuss in his cradle at

the sound of our voices.

“As delicious as you are,” I call over my shoulder to Sinclair as I lean down to scoop Rafe into my arms, “the baby and I need pancakes.”

“Then pancakes you shall have,” Sinclair murmurs, yawning and crossing to the little metal

bathroom door in the corner of the room. “But I hope that you are aware that these will be bunker

pancakes,” he adds, twisting the nob and pushing his way through, “by which I mean plain toast.”

I laugh, nodding to indicate that that’s fine by me, and then I spend a few sweet minutes alone

with my son, talking softly to him while I feed him his own breakfast, taking my time looking

over, admiring his little face and his thick thatch of black hair, mussed from sleep.

will surely be

it end badly?

Sinclair

morning we gather in the conference room at the end of the bunker’s long

look around at the men who we have brought with us, but honestly I’m proud

sleep, while I was relaxing

allowed to indulge, a little, in some of the privileges of being in charge – even if my constant

rolls up to my side, his voice quiet

ask,

little smirk, just for a moment, before placing some paperwork on the table and beginning to sort through it. “You think I can’t read the emotions on your

keep it clear? I’m your father, boy. We still

him. Roger comes over to us and gives us a sharp little

have in common. My

a little out of the loop, but I shake my head at him

not missing anything big and he just shrugs it off, leaning in front of me to look at the plans

dad came up with last night.

up straight, though, when Cora and Ella

off the baby to anyone

Cora handing out little cups of coffee that they thoughtfully

as he looks at

looking between Roger and our mates, trying to figure out

not

that I

face swiftly in a mix of

for this, since you’ve been a little…hypnotized by Ella since the moment

walked into your life –”

look and I shut my mouth, frowning

over my chest but letting him

her, but you let her get away with things that

I protest, but he

–

privilege of getting to know both Ella and Cora without being in love with one of them

at Roger, but he ignores me.

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