Surrogate For Alpha Dom

Ella

I'm gripping my sister’s hand, gritting my teeth and groaning through the first of my pushes, when the door bangs open again.I don’t open my eyes — can't look - Quite frankly, at this particular moment I don’t care who the hell it is - if it's Hank, or Roger, or insurgents coming to kill us — all I care about is the horrible, tearing pain within me as I work to bring my baby into the world.I moan, throwing my head back against the pillows as I pant, feeling the pain subside a little bit.

"How is she?"

I hear Hank ask, and I open my eyes to see him there next to me.I try to give him a little smile, failing a bit.

"Hello, Ella," he says softly, his voice warmer than I'm used to.

"You look like you're doing great." mI murmur my thanks to him as he turns his attention back to Cora, getting a full report, and I shift my gaze to Roger, who stands awkwardly across the room.

"Roger," I say, putting my hand out to him, inviting him closer.

"Hello, Ella!" he calls, awkward.

"Happy...happy birth. Or whatever."

Sinclair starts to laugh quietly.

"Come over, Roger," he demands and Roger sighs, hanging his head and deliberately choosing not to look at me as he comes to stand with his brother.

"What," Sinclair asks him as he arrives at his side.

"More of a cigars in the waiting room kind of guy?"

"Yeah," Roger agrees, giving his brother a little glare.

"I'd say that’s much more my vibe."

"I wanted you here," I say to him, giving him a tired little smile.

"I want you to meet the baby."

"Of course I want to meet the baby, Ella," Roger says, his voice kinder now as he meets my gaze.

"Just...when you've cleaned it up a bit. Gotten some of the goop off." I laugh, a little, but groan when I feel the pain start to return.

Cora climbs up onto the bed for this one, cursing a little at the lack of stirrups and the soft surface of the mattress that makes it harder for her to see what's really going on.

want to laugh in one of the more painful and

Sinclair solid

moved quite quickly through this,

the contraction ends and I

the final parts of it now," he says, patting my knee and giving me an

I have no idea what that could mean - is there trouble in paradise? - but honestly, any of my interest

pushing with all of my might during the contractions and then resting,

my sister calls encouragement to me and my mate is by my side through every moment of it, steadily

endless repetition of

she says, and the cheer in her voice is a balm

at her with hope in my eyes and she

his head will be born, and then it’s

I take a deep breath, looking up excitedly at Sinclair, happy despite the pain ravaging my body.I wait for the next contraction and, when it comes and Cora tells me to, I push - absolutely as hard as I can, giving a guttural yell

"Oh, his little head!"

push, and push. I gasp, laying back and panting as I feel the contraction end, and I look to Cora for instructions. Instead of a happy smile, though,

moaning at the pain that shoots through

Where's my

something wrong?" Sinclair asks, suddenly tense

voice that he’s working, so hard, to stay still and steady, to let the doctor's do their work. Inaction and the passing of responsibility to

mate wants to

"Um,"

- he’s almost

Hank hesitate and exchange glances again, then looking down at the baby. I struggle to sit up, to see the child, but my sister shakes her head at me, leaning forward to press

my eyes fixed on

you have

she sits back and

he didn’t make any progress in the past few pushes. Which is sometimes a sign

"There is some worry,"

because he’s such a large baby,

gasp, suddenly

goes rigid next to

Hank

shoulder dystocia — we think his

gasp, confused,

"What do we -"

her