Surrogate For Alpha Dom

Ella

When we arrive at the edge of the forest where the ceremony is set to begin, I’m wearing a shimmering pearl-colored dress, which looks as if it’s been spun from pure moonlight. Its straps are so thin it doesn’t seem like they should be strong enough to hold up the flowing fabric, which plunges between my breasts, hugs my waist and then cascades out into a wide skirt with a graceful train. It’s completely inappropriate for the cold weather, but a cape of plush black furs billows down my back and Sinclair’s cozy heat is warming my left side. My shoulders are heavy with the weight of his arm, and I feel thankful the rough forest terrain made wearing high heels impossible.

We move through the crowds of reporters and admirers, pausing for photos and handshakes but not answering any questions. The press coverage from the moon bathing ritual was truly phenomenal, almost fawning in its analysis, and the crowds are getting bigger every day. Everyone seems to want to glimpse us for themselves, and I’m beginning to feel more like a museum attraction than a person.

It’s hard to keep myself grounded when everyone around me is staring, jumping up and down yelling my name. This is business as usual for Sinclair, but I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it. I also don’t know if I want my child subjected to all this attention. “It won’t always be like this, right?” I ask, cradling my tiny baby bump as we move past the crowds. “Surely it’s just the festival and how new our relationship is.”

“Things will calm down.” Sinclair agrees, his keen eyes not missing the way I try to shield our pup with my hands. “They’ll be excited about the baby too, but they’ll keep their distance. They know how protective new parents are, and as invasive as we can be about adult relationships, children are considered off limits.”

“Good.” I breathe, still frowning. “I don’t like it, but I’ll endure it as long as they leave the baby alone.”

“After the campaign is over we can pull you out of the spotlight.” Sinclair offers, “you’ll be a new mother, it would be perfectly reasonable for your public presence to be diminished.” Just then the wind shifts, and Sinclair scents the air, his muscles suddenly going very tense.

of Luna looks for excuses to get out of doing her job?” I don’t need to look to recognize the speaker – her tone is completely altered

words or get a good look at her, Sinclair pushes my body behind his, taking up a defensive stance between me and his ex-wife. “Are you really so desperate to force yourself in where you’re not wanted, that you’ve been reduced to skulking around like a fox, Lydia?” A murmur moves through the gathered shifters, and I suspect calling a wolf a fox is something of an insult. Though I, as

more than a little bitter. “Are you really so preoccupied with your little pet that your wolf

in front of Sinclair, but he holds me fast, his arm reaching behind his body to lock me against him in an iron grip. I feel a little growl bubble up in my chest, only to be reduced to a trembling mess when he growls back, leaving no room for argument. “I guess that goes to show how little you mean to my wolf these

Lydia’s outraged expression before her venomous tongue is back at it, “Well you might not want me here, Sinclair, but as the only she-wolf who bears your mark, it’s my right to

How dare she try to take our place? How dare she try to take Sinclair from us? The little voice in my head is

possessive fury unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. Something raw and primal is building up inside me, and I don’t know how to identify it or reign it in. Is

out of your head,

the full force of my ire. “The only mark you bear is of the wolf you tricked into marrying you after you ran

close to home. I also wonder if her new husband might have realized the same thing she did – that Sinclair was never sterile, so their inability to

The voice in my head admonishes angrily, You can feel

are you?! I cry in return. What battle? I’m not going to publicly humiliate a woman who’s struggling with