Surrogate For Alpha Dom

Ella

One and a half months later, and I’m gigantic.

Gigantic.

“Five months wolf pregnant,” I mutter, stirring my yogurt with a little silver spoon, “is about thirteen months human pregnant.” Leaning back against my pillows, I raise the spoon to my mouth, but hesitate before taking a bite.

“What?” Sinclair asks, glancing at me from his spot on the bed, where he’s reading some reports on his tablet. “Has it gone sour?”

“No,” I murmur, stabbing the spoon back into the cup. “I’m just afraid if I eat another bite, this baby is going to get even bigger.”

“Good!” Sinclair declares, grinning at my swollen belly and reaching out a fond hand to rub my baby bump. “Let him get big and strong before he’s born, that way he can come out running and we can play football within a week

“Absolutely not,” I snap, giving him a little glare and hoping to hell that he’s kidding. “I am not growing you a linebacker, Dominic, so get that right out of your head.”

Sinclair chuckles and puts his tablet aside, moving lower on the bed to press his ear to my. stomach just above where the baby has settled. “What’s that, little Rafe?” he asks, loud enough for me to hear. I twist my lips and shake my head a little, knowing this is all for my benefit anyway. If he wanted to talk to Rafe, he could just do it through his bond. “You’re perfectly comfortable in there and want to go to full term so you can get big and strong?” –

I feel the baby move, then, responding to his father’s voice, pressing some extremity – a hand or a foot – across my skin, right where Sinclair’s face is. Sinclair kisses the spot where the baby presses and I feel a little thrill of Rafe’s happiness running through me.

my stomach, which looks honestly like I’ve swallowed a giant watermelon. “Tell him you’re cramped in there, and would like to stretch out in

his emotions ringing with happiness, but, indeed, with a little …pinched feeling, with the desire to stretch. “See?” I say, raising my eyebrow at Sinclair as he looks up at me with a big smile. “He’s sick of it too. Time

sighs, sitting up and giving my belly one last pat. “We’ll see what Cora and Hank say

I ask, excited.

he shrugs. “It’s not common,

consider aloud, “maybe since he’s one quarter moon goddess…he’ll come fast, and leave

hands to help me to my feet. I accept readily and head to the closet, eager to get out of my pajamas and head to this appointment.

heads back to flop onto the bed, continuing his work while I get ready. He’s been so sweet and supportive, even though I’ve been a bit miserable for the past two weeks, but especially this last one. There’s been some trouble, I know, with human insurgents who are unhappy with how well the peace talks are going. They think

about this final stretch of my pregnancy. It’s not that it’s not that I’m not enjoying being pregnant – I have loved every minute of feeling my little boy grow stronger inside of me, every little twist and kick, and especially feeling the little messages he sends down

―

little at the start, it’s very clear that he’s Sinclair’s baby now. He is heavy, and he presses on my back, and my

a bit torn. As much as I love being pregnant, and I’m so happy and grateful for it, it in many ways feels like the end of a wonderful vacation where you start to think about how nice it will be to go back home. I sigh and lean down to pick out a pair of sneakers but stop, suddenly, when I realize that I can’t bend down far enough over my belly

door, Sinclair is looking towards the closet, his eyebrows raised.

get those?” I ask with a big smile. “I need you to put them

go to sit on the bed. “Sure thing, Cinderella,” he smirks, kneeling down on one knee and lifting one of my feet up

all of these women who have been so patient, but Sinclair presses a hand to my back, ushering me forward. “I paid for this place, after all,” he murmurs, giving me a smile. “You can accept just

physicians for our