Alpha Dom and His Human Surrogate

Chapter 139- Ella’s Wolf

Ella

Everything is different the moment I open my eyes.

I don’t really want to wake up, to face a world without my baby in it, but my grief is momentarily dimmed by my wolf’s elation to finally be free. The temptation to bury my sorrows deep down and let myself be distracted is incredibly alluring, and I throw myself into denial with full force.

I feel as though I’ve been asleep for days, and maybe I have, but I feel stronger and sharper than I have in my entire life. The lights are searing bright, and the city is still too loud, but it’s not excruciating like it was before. My body must have acclimated while I rested, becoming used to sensing the world around me in ultra-high definition. My limbs are delightfully sore, and I revel in the feeling of thick, downy fur covering my body. I flex my fingers and toes, experimenting with my sharp claws and running my tongue over my fangs.

Being a wolf is even better than it was in my dream, partly because I know it’s real this time, but also because the world around me seems completely new. It’s as if I’m doing everything for the very first time, and it’s impossible not to be excited and thrilled despite the dark cloud hanging over my head.

I’ve been so caught up in my own head that I didn’t even realize that I’m not alone until a familiar, rumbly purr sounds beside me, and then a large tongue swipes over my velvety muzzle. Good Morning Little Wolf. Sinclair’s voice sounds in my mind, and I practically jump out of my skin. He chuckles and nuzzles his nose against mine, How do you feel?

I look up at the giant black wolf uncertainly, feeling guilty for my joy when… when… I can’t even think it. If I acknowledge what I’ve lost, then I won’t be able to pretend anymore. If I acknowledge it, then it becomes real, and I’m not prepared to face my sorrow. A whimper slips out of my mouth, and understanding washes over Sinclair’s canine features. Listen baby, how many heartbeats do you hear?

His question is more complicated than it should be, because I feel like I can hear every heart beating in the mansion. Still, I focus my attention on this room, not yet realizing why he instructed me thus. The gentle pulse of my own heart reaches my furry ears a fraction of a second before the steady pounding of Sinclair’s… and there, softer and tinier than both, is a precious thump in my womb.

must be dreaming. I twist my body so I can press my nose to my belly, and I can smell him! Like a blend of Sinclair and myself, with something else all his own. I’ve never smelled anything so wonderful in my entire life – even Sinclair, who smells good enough to eat. Tears form in my eyes, but I’m still not convinced this is real. Am I hallucinating? Is this some sort of psychosis brought on by

bass intrudes on my thoughts, overflowing with happiness. The

at my mate and stunned when I realize he can hear them. I’m not sure how I knew how to communicate this way – it was simply second nature. I was so sure

searching

me, not cohesive thoughts but bursts of

happiness up at me, responding to my enthusiasm. I can feel him. I tell Sinclair in awe, stopped in my tracks

head, just as I’m sure he can hear my uproarious giggles as he pins me and tickles my feet with his tail. I nip at

go for a run! I suggest eagerly, my body wiggling with excitement.

on the bed. We can, once you’ve got some food

I throw my head back defiantly.

me an imperious look as he towers over me. You haven’t have anything in at least 72 hours, and you’ve

The Prince fed me. I argue, thinking he’s

It won’t kill you to wait, the forest will still be there in an hour. When I still don’t look convinced, he adds, Besides, don’t you want

have no safe haven in which to grow him. Sinclair shifts back into human form, and I’m amazed by how different he looks through my wolf eyes. He’s always been annoyingly good looking, but somehow he seems even more handsome than ever. His bronze skin almost glows in the bright lights, and the rugged planes of his face and body seem sharper, more

head in denial, too preoccupied with my ruined nest to focus on anything else. In the end, the time passes in the blink of an eye, as I fuss and fret over remaking the space perfectly. Sinclair has to literally drag me away in order to convince me to eat, and

is awake, his power is starker, more visceral, and I feel it constantly. For some I supposed it might be frightening, but for me it’s nothing short of thrilling. It excites me and reassures me at once, while also tempting me to no end. I want to poke and prod at it, to see if it’s really as vast as it seems. It’s as if his dominance and authority is a giant red button saying “do not push” and Goddess help me, but