Accidental Surrogate

Roger and I are quiet the next morning as we go through our breakfast routine in the kitchen. It’s not an awkward sort of quiet, just…us thinking our own thoughts while staying very close to one another.

We stayed up late last night, first attending to the baby. Roger was heartbroken, too, that our barely- formed child was already worried about something – and that it’s all our fault. So we spent a good long time passing him comfort and happy thoughts down our bond, letting him feel reassured. When he finally drifted off to what we call sleep even though, honestly, it’s probably not an accurate term Roger and I took a deep breath and finally got back to the real conversation: what the hell we’re going to do.

But, of course, we didn’t come up with any solutions. Because our past experiences in the last, barely-finished war have already made it clear to us that trying to make plans? It never works.

So we eventually fell asleep holding each other close, whispering promises to put each other and our family first, even as the nation and its people ask us for more.

“That’s weird,” Roger murmurs, flicking through his phone as he leans against the counter, a cup of coffee in hand.

my tea to cool it, “the fact that you’re actually reading your messages? That

up to me and smirks, but shakes his

message telling me not to come in until this afternoon. Says he needs to sleep.” My eyebrows go up in surprise. “Wow, slacking on the job, so early in his reign.” Roger laughs a little and tucks the phone away in his pajama pocket. ” Nah, something’s up,” he says. “He wouldn’t take a sick day unless he needs it. Do you think it has something to do with Ella? That crazy dinner she went to last night?” My eyes widen as

is being very quiet too.” “Well,” he says, smirking and putting his coffee down, stepping closer and wrapping a hand around my waist to pull me close. “Either way, it means I have the morning off. What ever shall we do?” “Oh, I’ve got some chores in mind,” I say, grinning and putting my tea down before standing on my toes so I can wrap my arms around his neck. “Some tile in the shower needs to be regrouted “That bathroom is brand new, Cora- “Or the garbage disposal keeps making this

” “Well,” he says, starting out of the kitchen and heading for the stairs. ” This sounds

so that we’re still laying in bed chatting hours later, all wrapped up in each other. I slip my fingers through his hair, only half listening as he tells me more about his and Sinclair’s plans to create an Alpha Academy to train young wolves to

he growls at the door, tense and waiting for

for yourself,” he murmurs, leaning back against the pillows. ” She’s the one bursting into our house it’s her own fault if

at me, annoyed, one hand still on the