Alpha Dom and His Human Surrogate

Chapter 323 – Sister Stuff

Ella

“I wonder what Cora’s up to,” I sigh as I stand by the window rocking Rafe, who his crying a little and fussing in my arms. I know that he doesn’t need anything – he’s been fed, burped, changed, and everything else a baby could want. He’s just crying to cry, and I give a defeated little sigh, smiling at him and knowing that he just has to take a minute to work

it out.

Sinclair, sitting on the bed with papers spread out all around him, glances up at me. You haven’t had any word from her?” he asks.

“No,” I reply, shaking my head. The last thing I heard was from the guards, who said they got separated form Cora and Roger by a flash flood. I’m…worried about her.”

“You know Roger will take care of her,” Sinclair says passively, flicking through the papers, looking for one in particular.

“I know,” I sigh, bobbing Rafe in my arms. “But even Roger can’t protect against the forces of nature. It’s just so strange – they’re only three hours away, and they’re apparently caught in some kind of hurricane? And we’ve got sunny skies?” I turn again towards the window, frowning. Something that feels uncannily like my mother’s gift pulses inside me, making my wolf turn towards it in attention, cocking her head to the side curiously. But neither of us know what to make of it, so I sigh again.

Rafe lets out a little wail then, working one of his little arms free of his blanket and waving an angry fist in the air.

“Oh baby,” I murmur, leaning down to give him a little kiss. “What do you have to worry about? You’re not stuck out in a storm. You’re here safe, with mommy!”

“Maybe he’s picking up on mommy’s anxiety,” Sinclair says, standing up from the bed and coming next to us, reaching for the baby. “Maybe he feels it down the bond

“Don’t blame me for your child’s bad attitude,” I say, joking and handing Rafe over into his father’s arms, whose size remind me again of the tiny delicacy of my baby boy “He gets that from your side. I’m no crybaby”

Sinclair laughs, rocking the baby in his arms, and Rafe quiets almost instantly, his yowl softening to an angry little murmur “Why,” Sinclair asks, “do you always suggest that his

undesirable qualities come from me? I come from excellent stock”

SIL…

H

my baby’s perfect little face, raising a hand to tieke his belly a little I’m jealous, a bit, that he quiets so readily in his father’s aums, but not jealous enough to take him back if it means he’ll cry. Alongside the jealousy, there’s also a part of me that loves Rafe’s connection with his father, that he like me – finds comfort in the Alpha’s arms “My genetic line is that of a perfect Goddess You can’t

father too, you know,”

up at him. “A king. I

when we hear a little

down more

see his father there,

Henry asks curiously.

“No- but how-how

here?”

me then. This chair is really state of the art,” he says, gesturing to the chair I ordered for my bed rest. Tll really have to consider one of these for

you to arrange

widely to hide

groans, tilting his head back, realizing he’s never going to get his house back to the way it was. I pat him on the arm, knowing that it’s the right choice Henry should have free run

he says, pulling a folder from the little

behind his chair to look over his shoulder, eager to know more. Sinclair likewise steps forward, a protective hand on Rafe as he leans forward “What did you find?”

and well It actually makes sense that the book that Cora and Roger found was so old, because the Monastic Cult of the

allowed them to operate in the background for decades, largely unnoticed. It’s actually rather a miracle that that book reported anything about them – our best guess is that, in fact, the scholar who wrote it must have been an ex- member of the brotherhood

looking between Henry and

secrecy?”

at me and

had to start leaving a bit of a trail on the dark web and other such underground spaces, in order to communicate across distances and acquire rare materials for their ceremonies. But from what your investigators estimate,

ever been.”

for switching the sperm that brought Ella and I together. They, for some reason,

their work. The high-ranking members of the Cult who wear the robe are, apparently, notoriously reclusive. It is perhaps to our luck that the man who tricked

and folding my arms

know, for instance, that the Goddess’s priests were keeping an eye on you. It is likely that they

look up at my mate. His eyes, however, are fixed steadily on his father.