Surrogate For Alpha Dom

Sinclair

The world is fuzzy when I wake.

I sit up, instantly on edge. My wolf knows something is wrong, not that this is any great feat of instinct. I don’t recognize my surroundings, and I have no recollection of falling asleep. The last thing I remember is being at the ‘have a drink with the Alpha’ event and talking about fatherhood with my constituents.

How much time has passed? I wonder, my thoughts trapped in a strange fog. I feel hungover, but I can’t imagine I had enough alcohol to render me in such a state. It’s already light out, and why do I smell…

“Lydia!” I exclaim, scanning the space for my ex-wife. The entire room reeks of her, and belatedly I realize we’re in a hotel. I can sense her presence in the other room, but as I slide from bed I realize I’m completely naked.

She appears in the doorway of the bathroom, leaning against the frame. She’s wearing my dress shirt from last night. It’s unbuttoned from collar to hem, making it clear that she’s nude underneath. I’m sure she intended it to give me tantalizing flashes of her tan skin, but I feel no attraction for her at all. My wolf is roaring in my head, my hackles raising defensively when Lydia flashes her fangs in a lethal grin. “Good morning, lover.”

“What have you done?” I snarl, not bothering to hide my outrage and disgust. Slowly, so slowly I feel furious with my own dull wits, a picture is forming in my mind. The puzzle pieces are slowly clicking into place. I feel so groggy, achy and nauseous, not because I’m hungover, but because I was drugged.

That metallic taste in my drink. I realize angrily, wishing I’d had the sense to walk out of the pub the moment I realized something was off. I glance again to the windows, realizing it must be morning already. I have no memory of last night and no way of knowing what I did in my drugged state. Did she give me something that unhinged me enough that I would actually sleep with her? Did I make a scene when I left the bar?

event last night. I guess without your little pet hanging on your

I’d be home in time for dinner, she must be so worried! “Where’s my phone?” I

“that’s all it takes, one mention of the little bitch and

stop myself short of reaching for her, though my wolf is sorely tempted. “Don’t you ever talk about Ella that way. In fact, keep her name and any other foul nicknames you come up with, out of your mouth

sputters, flinching and backing away from me. “I’m your mate. You can’t…. This

think I can’t threaten you? You think I can’t hurt you if you endanger my family?” I snap. “You aren’t my mate anymore, Lydia, and you weren’t ever worthy of being Luna even when you had the title.” Despite my words, even I’m shocked at how easy I find it to show aggression to her. Everything I know about fated mates has taught me that I shouldn’t be able to stomach raising a hand against her, but it’s almost as if she and Ella have traded places in my heart. Now my wolf only cares for protecting

a thing to your disgusting little family.”

let something sensitive slip under the influence? How did you get me out of that bar? What if someone saw us leaving together? You might have compromised my campaign!” I thunder, “and that does threaten my family

our past because you found a new plaything. You always said I was more important to you than politics… and now

have a pack to lead and the fate of the entire fucking realm is on my shoulders? Did you really believe I’d stay here pining for you, and you would be able to walk back into my life like nothing happened?” I rumble coldly, wondering how I ever imagined myself in love with this woman. Ella would never ask me to choose her over the campaign, she wouldn’t want me to. “And for the record, Lydia. I

you didn’t care very much about your family or your pack last night.” Lydia announces spitefully, wearing a cruel smile that looks more like a grimace. “The time apart certainly didn’t cost us in the bedroom. You

have no way of knowing if she’s telling the truth. There aren’t any marks on her body from hickeys or lovebites, and I don’t feel any scratches on my back of physical signs of the kind of rambunctious lovemaking we used to have, but then again – if I was most unconscious then there wouldn’t be any of those signs. So while I’m sure her remarks about my ferocity are a lie, I can’t rule out sex entirely. The bed is in complete disarray, and she certainly smells like