Surrogate For Alpha Dom

Ella

“How are you feeling?” Sinclair asks, standing in the doorway of my bedroom. The wild hunt is tonight, and I know he’s not merely asking about my morning sickness or fatigue.

“Nervous.” I confess. “Do you think…” I trail off, blushing and unsure if I can actually speak the question I need to ask.

“What is it Ella?” He inquires, coming forward with an encouraging smile.

“Do you think I could see your wolf before we go tonight, just so that I’ll recognize it when I see you?” I whisper, barely loud enough to hear myself, but knowing Sinclair’s wolf ears will be more than capable of picking up on the sound. And so I won’t be scared. I add silently in my head.

“Of course.” He chuckles, “That’s a great idea. I should have thought of it myself.”

His powerful hands move to the buttons on his shirt, and I find myself taking a step back. “What are you doing?”

“You wanted to see my wolf, I don’t want to ruin this shirt.” He shrugs. “It’s one of my favorites.”

“Right.” I breathe, “Right, of course.”

He continues stripping off his clothes, and I work hard to avert my gaze. So far I’ve been very successful in avoiding temptation by not looking at his body in these vulnerable moments, and I’m not about to change that now – on the day when it’s more important than ever that we practice self control.

“Does it hurt, shifting?” I ask, staring at my fidgeting fingers.

first time.” Sinclair shares, “The first time is almost unbearable, it takes hours and hours, but once you’ve gotten it over with it happens fast as

lightheaded, “How old are you when you shift the first

everyone – most make the change when they go through puberty.” Sinclair informs me,

baby – my son – eventually suffering through this sort of grisly shift, and I don’t like it one bit. “What was yours like, was anyone with you?” I

was as painful as anyone else’s. But my father was with me, he got me through it, just

through the process. I can imagine Henry was a very gentle and supportive presence for Sinclair, and

first time he’s ever been unclothed when I’m not, and I’m amazed at how much stronger I feel with my own body covered. I never realized until now how vulnerable it is to be undressed and exposed when others are not, but Sinclair doesn’t seem to mind one bit. He’s still wielding the power in

“Yes, sorry.” I flush.

He murmurs, “and don’t get close to me until after I’ve shifted, you don’t want

him, watching with horrified fascination as he ensures he’s not near anything breakable, then disappears. There’s a loud crack and the air seems to go blurry, I even feel a bit nauseous trying to keep track of the rapid movement. However when my eyes adjust and I’m able to take in the familiar room again, I see that where

not a wolf that’s a

wolf, who is much, much too large – far larger than any natural wolf and probably almost as tall as I am – gives me an affronted look, as if I’ve insulted

a bear!” I quickly amend, still trying to reconcile the fact that the beast in front of me is actually the man who spends every night wrapped around me like a very muscular heated blanket. “But how are you bigger

his eyes, sitting on the rug and waiting patiently for

honestly, I could ride you.” I point out, my head filled with images of me mounted

You know what I mean.” I’m amazed that anyone could manage to be so suggestive without speaking a word, or even possessing human features. “I… what do I do, how do you communicate with other wolves when you’re like this. Do you have mental links like

Suddenly it seems positively hilarious that Dominic Sinclair is sitting in front of me with the squirmy energy of a puppy, and I realize that he’s holding himself back

touch

behemoth nods again, and though I don’t know how I understand his reasoning, I know he’s waiting for me to come to him. It takes a minute for me to find the courage to move my leadened feet, but I manage. I slowly cross the room, feeling terribly anxious to be approaching a creature out of the horror stories I grew up