Accidental Surrogate

Chapter 350

Accidental Surrogate Chapter 350-Cora

It’s hours, hours later when I finally have a moment to step back and breathe. And when I do, I feel my head spin and stumble back a step or two. Roger is there, instantly, his hand on my back.

“Cora,” he says, pulling me closer to him, tilting up my face so that he can study me. “Are you all right? You’re – ”

“I’m fine,” I mutter, frustrated, trying to push away and get back to work. I have a moment to breathe, but honestly there’s so much more that – needs to be done for these men –

“No,” Roger says, stubborn. “You’re pushing yourself too far – you’re pregnant, Cora -”

“Roger,” I sigh, turning to glare at him in earnest now and putting a hand on his chest. “This cannot be the refrain that I hear for the next nine – or six or however many months, all right? I am not going to stop doing my job-stop healing people – just because I’m pregnant.”

I hear Roger begin to growl in protest but I lock my teeth together, staring up at him, hard. And, slowly, I see him start to relent, to remember the person who he chose as his mate.

“This is my life, Roger,” I whisper, ” my identity. I’m a doctor – I made an oath! I’m going to help them.”

“All right,” he replies, taking a step back. “But Cora, please -”

“I’ll be careful – I’ll stop before

he asks, looking me over from top to bottom, his eyes pausing

that these men need. Honestly the extent of the burns that they came in with some of them down to

and then when I look up at him again I feel him place his

eyes and concentrates and I’m a little sorry as I see that it’s hard for him. I remember the way that Sinclair communicated with Rafe while Ella

the baby when he’s touching me and when he concentrates, but…I do wish it was easier for him. I want him to have the full fatherhood experience, with all of its blessings. And it breaks my heart that my body – my humanness has taken a

Roger murmurs, opening his eyes and leaning forward to press his lips

him fully, peering at some of the

murmurs, his voice not much more than a growl. “Much slower than usual. Like whatever that priest did to hurt us like this had its

brief glimpse of the skin below before I wrap him back up. “You’re healing,” I say, looking up at him, “but

Roger puts a sweet, concerned hand on the side of my

the corner of the room where her mate naps lightly, Rafe secure in his arms

from me. “More his pride hurt than anything, and he’s frustrated,” she says, giving a chagrined little

of his supplies on his way out, along with us,

optimistic about the interviews,” I point out, nodding towards where Henry is rolling between the beds, speaking kindly to any of the men who are conscious and willing to report what they heard and saw. “He’s

around. “We are

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