Surrogate For Alpha Dom
Chapter 168
Chapter 168 – Going to Bed Angry
Ella
After dinner with Cora, I visit the Palace library, searching for any excuse to avoid Sinclair as I continue to work through my feelings. My sister’s troubles with Roger offered some distraction, but I’m not sure a distraction is what I needed. My anger and frustration with my mate hasn’t lessened at all, and I haven’t had the chance to think about our conversation in any depth.
I browse the bookshelves absentmindedly, more caught up in my head than actually paying attention to the available selection. Eventually I spy a Vanaran history book on the top shelf, and my curiosity is piqued. I’d love to learn more about this mysterious territory, but it’s very high up and there’s not a ladder anywhere in sight. If my mate were here he wouldn’t have any problem reaching it for me, but he’s not here.
And he’s not going to be. My wolf pouts, He’s leaving, and we’re going to have to get used to doing things on our own again.
Part of me is ashamed I’ve become so reliant on a man when I spent my whole life taking care of myself and others, and suddenly it feels ridiculous that I should seek out another to solve this problem. Licking my lips, I take a quick visual measurement of the shelves, and look around the room for a chair to stand on.
Finding a plush armchair, I pull it over to the bookshelf and clamber up onto my knees on the cushioned seat. Making sure I’m steady, I slowly get my feet under me, but unfortunately this doesn’t make me tall enough to reach the top shelf. Testing one foot on the arm of the chair, I determine that it won’t topple under my weight. Stretching as far as I can, my fingertips only graze the spine of the book, and I huff in frustration.
Keeping one foot on the arm of the chair, I balance the other on one of the shelves, pushing myself up to grasp the book. Just before my fingers close around the old leatherback, a thundering voice shatters the silence.
“What do you think you’re doing!?” Dominic demands, his disapproval slamming into me full force.
Yelping in surprise, I lose my balance and begin to topple backwards. I try to hang on but my fingers slip, and I use my free arm to cradle my belly as I fall. I see a whir of motion out of the corner of my eye, and suddenly strong arms surround me. Gasping for air, I look up at my mate with relief, quickly followed by outrage. “Why would you startle me that way!” I exclaim, swatting his chest.
and suddenly I’m squirming beneath the weight of his scalding temper. “Is that really what you want
over with concern even as he sends waves of Alpha authority through our bond to chastise me. “Goddess, Ella. Were you trying
trying to wriggle out of his arms. However as soon as I begin trying to escape he simply holds me
alone. That chair could have toppled or you could have simply lost your balance. You risked yourself and the pup.” He lectures,
my belly, trying to sense his mood. I feel pulses of uncertainty, but not due to any harm I’ve inflicted. He’s simply responding to my guilt and Sinclair’s anger. “I’m
sure about that? Are you sure you weren’t trying
myself?” I scoff, finding the mere suggestion preposterous, even though I know he’s not completely
your wolf wouldn’t obey anyone but me, maybe this was your way of proving it – making me think you’ll get up to too much mischief without
late to change his mind. She has a point, but that wasn’t what happened and
him sulkily, “And not everything is about you, Dominic.” I add spitefully, trying to drown out the swell of tangled emotions rising up inside of me. I feel like I’m all over
am in this moment, my brain veers away from irritation, moving to regret and guilt from the knowledge Sinclair is displeased with my behavior. Is
How do you think I feel? His arms tighten reflexively on my body. But
sure how to put my feelings into words. I also don’t want snatches of chaotic emotion to reach
disliking the fact that I’ve cut myself off from him. Still, he doesn’t complain and when we finally reach our rooms he asks. “If it
to talk about it.” I sniffle, wallowing in self-pity. “I
into the sitting area, settling on the couch and
angry, little
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