Accidental Surrogate for Alpha

Ella

I’m holding my breath for the second time this evening, though this time it isn’t to save myself from any bad smells or illness. Now l’m waiting to see if Sinclair will be honest with me about his ex-wife, or if he’ll let me down again with another lie. In truth I’m expecting him to disappoint me, though I don’t believe he has bad intentions. On the contrary, I think he’s much too determined to protect me – but he’s very mistaken if he thinks keeping me in the dark is going to make me safer.

If anything it will put me more at risk. I don’t want to be blindsided again, and after what happened with Mike I feel especially sensitive about dishonesty – however well intentioned.

He sighs, and drops his hands from my face. His green eyes bore into me, and a muscle flutters in his cheek, betraying his agitation over the evening’s events.

“Roger wasn’t entirely wrong. Lydia is back because she wants us to try again.”

For a moment I’m so surprised he actually admitted this that I can’t speak. At the same time, my heart sinks and swells. It hurts me to know this information, but I’m touched and impressed that Sinclair confided in me. He really does seem to be trying to do better and communicate more, and I appreciate it immensely. As I work through my conflicting feelings I gradually wrap my mind around his words. “Try again.” I repeat. “For a baby, or as mates?”

“Both.” Sinclair answers simply, shaking his head.

But it’s not going to happen.”

I blink, “Why not?”

“There’s a reason I didn’t go after Lydia when she left.” Sinclair growls, a dark look overtaking his features.

“She might have walked out, but our marriage was over for a long time by then.”

“But I thought..” I trail off, remembering Sinclair and Roger’s conflicting statements about mates. Roger made it sound like fated couples shared a love deeper than any ocean and no chosen bond could ever compete, but Sinclair described things differently. He said that he and Lydia hadn’t been good for one another, that some chosen couples were happier than fated ones. “You’re fated,” I finally continue, wondering if I’m asking this because I believe it, or because I’m afraid of the possibility. “Don’t you love her?”

young Sinclair diving headfirst into love without any fear at all – driven by his strength and

because they have to go through the experience in order to become the person they’re destined to be, not because she intends them to stay together forever, or even

though it’s hard to accept that the painful parts of life serve

a comforting idea.” I reply, thinking of my own relationships. “I’ve never believed in fate or destiny before.. but l’d much rather think that I spent all those years with Mike for a reason I don’t

would have conceived this baby.” His eyes sparkle with mischief, and his grin turns positively canine.

own and wishing I could feel our child’s emotions the way Sinclair does. “You

about Lydia anymore. I just want to be here with you and this little

crossed a line. It worries me that he won’t answer me, but I prefer his silence over untruths or empty platitudes. Besides, he told me he wasn’t going to get back together with Lydia, and I don’t feel confident enough with him to press my luck on the matter. I know the look of a

the bedding piled around my body. “It’s only eight o’clock.” He reminds me, his brow wrinkling with concern when he realizes I’m still wearing my feast dress.

I was just really cold after the festival. I couldn’t feel my fingers or

grazing his knuckles over my cheek. “Poor baby, do you

and shooting him an accusing stare. “Until you came

wolfish smile is back, the one that makes me feel like I need to lock myself behind a closed door before he huffs and puffs and blows my house down to devour me. Suddenly the goosebumps covering my arms have nothing to do with the cold air, and everything to do with

up.” Sinclair purrs, just before

wriggle away. I know he just plans on snuggling with me, but the little voice in my head pushes me to

dress, and I don’t complain when he

our underwear, and my entire body is surrounded by Sinclair on all sides. The blankets are over our heads, and all I can see is the dim glow of his green eyes. “I thought the idea was to

to skin contact to work.” He smirks – l can’t see it, but I hear it in his voice as clear as

suspiciously. “I think you just like having me n*ked. I think maybe I should