Surrogate For Alpha Dom

Ella

Sinclair and I wake up late the next morning and frankly I’m grateful that everyone let us sleep in. We had to get up to feed Rafe, of course, but even with that? It’s the most sleep I’ve gotten in a long time.

“Morning,” I murmur, turning over to Sinclair and slinging a leg up over his hip, feeling just… ridiculously relaxed for someone who fought off a pack of kidnappers in her bedroom yesterday.

Sinclair doesn’t say anything, just growls a hungry little greeting and pulls my naked body closer to his, rolling over me a little so that I can feel the delicious weight of him on top of me as he kisses my neck, my shoulder, and then my mouth. “We’re skipping breakfast,” he murmurs, sliding his hand leisurely down the length of my body, “I have different idea for how we can spend

the time

”

“Noooo,” I moan in protest, my stomach audibly growling in support. “I need fooooood!”

Sinclair laughs and pulls away from me then. “Am I not sustenance enough for you?” he asks

pretending to be offended. “Here,” he says, offering his arm, bulging with muscles, “take a bite. It

will keep you going.”

I bare my teeth and lean forward towards it, making my mate laugh, but then I just press a quick kiss to the arm and push him away, reaching for the baby who is starting to fuss in his cradle at

the sound of our voices.

“As delicious as you are,” I call over my shoulder to Sinclair as I lean down to scoop Rafe into my arms, “the baby and I need pancakes.”

“Then pancakes you shall have,” Sinclair murmurs, yawning and crossing to the little metal

bathroom door in the corner of the room. “But I hope that you are aware that these will be bunker

pancakes,” he adds, twisting the nob and pushing his way through, “by which I mean plain toast.”

I laugh, nodding to indicate that that’s fine by me, and then I spend a few sweet minutes alone

with my son, talking softly to him while I feed him his own breakfast, taking my time looking

over, admiring his little face and his thick thatch of black hair, mussed from sleep.

be a busy, complicated

can it end

Sinclair

we gather in the conference

have brought with us, but honestly I’m proud of them. Many worked through the night to develop our reconnaissance, to make

I realize that they were working, losing sleep, while I was relaxing and…well, doing a bit more than

the privileges of being in charge – even if my constant instinct is to work, and to push, and

up to my side, his voice quiet enough that no one is likely to

I ask,

dad gives me a little smirk, just for a moment, before placing some paperwork on the table and beginning to sort

clear? I’m your father, boy. We still have a bond, even if

us and gives us a sharp little nod, which we both return, and then I laugh a little

movements we all have in common.

little out of the loop, but I shake my head at him a little to let him

not missing anything big and he just shrugs it off, leaning in front of me

dad came up with last night.

when Cora and Ella

off the baby to

little cups of coffee that they

his eyes wide as he looks at

I ask, looking between Roger and our mates, trying to figure out the

says, his voice tight, “do you not see the issue

a little disturbed that I don’t, I shake

scrubbing his hand down his face swiftly in a mix of worry and frustration.

going to forgive you for this, since you’ve been a little…hypnotized

into your life –”

me a significant look and

my chest but

“Ella’s amazing, and I love her, but you let her get away with things that you wouldn’t let anyone get away

he continues speaking, cutting me

–

not calling your judgement into doubt – but I have had the privilege of getting to know both Ella and Cora without being in love

at Roger, but he ignores me.