Alpha Dom and His Human Surrogate

Chapter 298 – On Mom Time Now

For the next two weeks, Sinclair and I don’t get much sleep.

Instead, our precious. Darling. Wonderful. Amazing. Bundle. Of. Joy…tortures us until we’re basically mindless drones, trying to figure out what he wants and giving it to him as soon as possible.

“Oh my god,” I say to Sinclair one night at three in the morning, desperate with anxiety and lack of sleep. I walk around the room with Rafe pressed close to my chest, trying to comfort him. “He’s been fed, changed, burped… he’s probably just sleepy! But he’s keeping himself up with all this noise he’s making!”

“It will be all right,” says my ever–patient mate, holding out his arms. I passed the baby to him and… Rafe instantly quiets.

And this is the moment when I simultaneously figured out the best and the worst thing in my life: that my mate is a baby whisperer, and that my child loves his dad more than he loves me.

Of course, I’m so exhausted at this point that I don’t really care that Rafe quiets in Sinclair’s arms and not mine. I’m just glad that he’s quiet. “Okay,” I whisper, slowly backing away, as if from a live grenade. “You just hold him…just like that…”

“Ella,” Sinclair says, giving me a tiny scowl. “Don’t be ridiculous – it’s not as if – ” but he takes one step towards me and Rafe begins to cry. I freeze like a deer in the headlights. So does Sinclair. Slowly, he takes a step backwards. Rafe quiets.

“Right there, Dominic,” I whisper, backing away towards the bed. “Just stand there for…two, three hours…” I murmur as I climb into my messy nest, “and I’ll see you both…later…”

2

I barely hear him as I almost

now.

the rocking chair in the corner of the room and he’s sleeping there now, the baby laid flat in a bassinet pulled close. I smile to see that Sinclair rests a large hand on the edge the basket, though, ready to respond if Rafe makes

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go to look at both of them my gigantic mate, my tiny baby, next to each other. They look so alike – their coloring, some of their

same

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my arms over my head and decide to let them sleep, turning to

hungry. I had assumed that my hunger would abate after I gave birth and was no longer growing a twelve pound baby within a five–month span, but I am still voracious. I head straight to the pantry, reaching for the big box of shredded wheat as well as a king–sized candy

has bounced back fast, at least in terms of health, probably because of my wolf biology and my mother’s gift. My figure still hasn’t returned to what it was before I was pregnant – I don’t care about that

a little prayer of thanks

around – looking everywhere for the intruder. I’m still panting and on edge when my eyes land on Roger, grinning at me from the doorway. “Chocolate for breakfast? What kind of role

say, brandishing my candy bar at him, “I’m eating this for him, because he demands it. And also, I’m

and comes forward to give me a hug, which I warmly return. “Eat whatever you want, Ella. Just don’t bankrupt my

the fridge to grab the milk and making my way back to the bowl. “Why are you here so early?” I ask, curious. “We

with disbelief and I glance towards the stove, which reads 9:08. “Oh my god!” I say, looking back at

“It’s all right, you’re

not!” I say, tossing the milk back in the fridge without pouring it and bolting for the stairs, “If we miss our

stairs, calling after me. “I think they’ll