Surrogate For Alpha Dom

Sinclair whips his face up to mine, relief in every line of it. “It’s fine,” he says, his body shaking with his unused adrenaline, “he’s…he’s here…he’s still asleep…”

A sob breaks from my throat as I press my eyes closed and sink to the floor, still clutching the door frame, unable to stop the tremors that run through my body. The past minute – the past thirty seconds, even – were some of the most horrible of my life

The idea the bare idea that someone had come for my baby – my brand–new child, who I love so much, who I worked so hard to bring into this world –

I’m sobbing freely now, unable to catch my breath, panic overtaking me at the thought. I lean my head against the wood, pressing my face against it, unable to contain myself – to even think

to do anything but cry my heart out in fear, and panic, and grief and, relief at what I thought happened – but actually didn’t happen at all

I barely feel Sinclair as he crouches next to me, his hand warm on my back, and it’s only when I hear Rafe’s little mew of unhappiness that I snap my face towards him. Sinclair is kneeling next to me, tears streaking down his own face, holding my baby out towards me – Rafe so small and precious that he almost fits in his father’s huge hand.

Desperate, I grab for Rafe, needing the corporeal reality of him against me. I cry harder then, but am able to take deep breaths as I hold my baby in my arms, pressing him against my chest, and running a shaking hand over his hair. He’s crying a little now too, his sleep interrupted –

“You” I say, my voice trembling as I look up at Sinclair, “you sh–shouldn’t have – woken – him up – ”

Sinclair shakes his head at me, his own lip trembling as he works to hold himself together. ” You needed him more than he needed the sleep – we need him

Sinclair lowers himself fully to the floor then, drawing me and the baby into his lap, wrapping his arms around us. I can feel his breath deepening behind me as I stare down at my child, shushing him, helping him to fall back asleep. It’s a long time before he does, but when he finally does, I take a deep breath and look back up at my mate.

“What are we going to do?” I ask, bewildered, desperate.

“What we were always going to do,” Sinclair answers, his voice iron. “Protect our family.” He meets my eyes then, his green gaze glowing with ferocity. “No one will touch our son, Ella,” he promises. “You have my word on that. I’ll die before I let anyone touch him.”

Slowly, I nod, believing every word.

Then, new resolve building in me, I take a deep breath and lift myself off of Sinclair’s lap,

up on shaky

surprised by the solidity

probably had clenched since he folded the note the first

and looking around the

seriously. “None of us leave

I get there, I calmly lay my baby back down so he can get his rest, exhaling a deep breath as I stand up

whoever

This person they are – they scared me, I’ll admit it. But as I stare down at my child and hear my mate issuing commands into my

the wrong people.

thing to me in this world.

in the world, perhaps that’s

And me?

be prepared to face the wrath of a

baby

house is swarming with guards.

with any of them, letting Sinclair handle it. Instead, I sit in the armchair next to Rafe’s bassinet, the basket pulled close to me, not letting anyone near us. My wolf inside me has her hackles raised, eyeing every person who passes the

one, she says to me, it’s him

know it is

is – didn’t you see his shifty eyes?

teeth clenched, telling myself that Sinclar has

this house unless he had secured their

growls – someone got close enough to use to leave a note on our doorstep. How good could his security have been? Or, even

own. Was it someone we knew, someone leaving the party? Was it a friend, someone