Accidental Surrogate

Bringing Aid Ella Our first night in the palace is so strange for me.

My two boys are sleeping soundly on either side of me – Sinclair sprawled out over our supersized bed (it’s much bigger than a King – I don’t even know if they have a name for it anymore; we had to make a custom order) and Rafe’s bassinet is pulled up close on my other side.

I look first at my mate and then at my little baby, smiling at each of them, marveling at how much they already resemble each other with their dark hair and their wide-set eyes, each framed with dark lashes.

My smile deepens as I look between them.

I mean, Sinclair is of course lacking Rafe’s pudgy cheeks, but the resemblance is still uncanny.

It’s very, veryclear who this baby’s daddy is.

“Rude of you, little baby,” I whisper, rolling over on my side and peeking into the bassinet, “to not bother looking like me at all.” He sighs a little in his sleep and wiggles, getting more comfortable.

It’s so cute that I think my heart might burst at the sight of it.

But the sight of my super-cute little baby can only do so much to distract me from all of the thoughts racing through my mind right now.

I roll onto my back and stare at the distant ceiling, turning them over one-by-one.

Half of them pertain to the wedding, which I really am excited about.

And I do think it’s a good idea – half of the trouble of bringing this nation together is suggesting to humans and wolves alike that this nation respects both kinds of persons – and that we’re allequal.

A marriage between them – especially as publicized as Sinclair thinks it should be will go far with both populations in suggesting that the Royal family, at least, truly embraces this idea.

I wrinkle my nose and laugh a little at the thought of myself as part of aroyal family- I’m nowhere near fancy enough for such a title – but then I sigh again, distracted.

Because Sinclair’s other point is still valid – I know, in my heart, that I want to help our citizens, helpeveryone.

is that what I really want to do? Is that the

drawer by my bedside table, pulling out the cellphone that I haven’t

quickly pull up a familiar name in my contacts and send off a text: Isabel!

because I really do feel bad about neglecting my friendship, especially after I asked her to stay here instead of going home – I send off

sharp-edged at times, I think, smiling – I think, and hope, that

a little better at having gotten started on a plan, I finally drift off to

he groans as he rolls over to turn it off, and then he flops back in

eyes in surprise when his hand

as soon as I heard the alarm, I gasped and rolled away, reaching for my

to see that I have

“What?” Sinclair asks, groggy.

I murmur, quickly flicking

sleep.” Ignoring him, I eagerly click open

been!? We’ve all been so worried! Please come and see me – I want to hug you myself

any time after 8, someone will lead

eagerly start to type out my reply but, before I get far, I hear a snarl behind me and feel a gigantic arm

Sinclair pulls me, laughing, across the

be angry.” Mymate? Neglectingme in the morning?” “Ohh, poor big scary Alpha,” I tease, turning in his arms so that my stomach is pressed against his, pouting

your day?” “Damn right I can’t,” he growls, baring his teeth at me – an act that would probably make some men quail but which only makes me laugh.” We’re going to have to introduce some discipline in this house – you haveduties, little Queen -” “Ohhhh, little Queen,” I say, pressing myself

this

elegant.” “Do you,” he murmurs, dropping his head to drag kisses along my neck and down across his shoulder,

other things to call you.” “Oh really,” I sigh,” rolling one shoulder back so that Sinclair can continue his path down across my collar

“Bad girl,” he

phone first thing in the

you’re talking to.” And then he drops his gaze,

a little at the feel of his lips against my skin, burying my fingers in his silky black hair and letting my head tilt back a little at