Accidental Surrogate for Alpha

Ella

In the end, my exhaustion saves me. I hadn’t realized how tiring the evening was, but the added pressure of putting on our show for the reporters must have taken more of a toll than l expected. I fall asleep almost as soon as my head hits the pillow, but as fate would have it, I can’t even escape Sinclair in my dreams tonight.

I know I’m dreaming from the very start. I’m still in Sinclair’s bed, but it’s no longer in his opulent mansion.

It’s in the middle of a starlit forest, with nothing but trees and wilderness surrounding it as far as the eye can see.

I’m wearing a simple white negligee -more evidence that this isn’t real, I don’t own anything like it. A cool breeze flutters over my skin, carrying the scent of evergreens and moss, rich amber and… Sinclair. I would know that scent anywhere, even though I can’t see him yet.

He appears slowly, moving towards me through the darkness, his green eyes glowing through the trees. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of simply black slacks, and for the first time I don’t feel shy about appreciating his gorgeous physique. I’ve always averted my eyes when he undresses in front of me, not that this prevents me from feeling his muscles or the huge member between his legs when our bodies are pressed up against each other in bed.

But now I look my fill, raking my eyes over the rugged planes of his face and the contours of his che.st.

His tall frame is padded with muscles most human men can only dream about – some of which I didn’t even know existed.

“Hello beautiful,” Sinclair greets me huskily, prowling closer with every ragged breath I take, his naked torso gleaming in the moonlight. “Didn’t you get enough of me when you were awake?”

“How could 1?” I pout, feeling completely face to express my sullen mood. “You teased me all night long and I haven’t had any relief. It’s torture!”

“It’s not easy for me either.” He murmurs sympathetically, crawling up onto the big bed. He moves with such lethal grace, crawling over the plush covers until he’s close enough to reach out and touch me, which he immediately does. He lies on his side, encouraging me to come rest in the protective circle of his arms. I don’t resist. I slide into his embrace as easily as I breathe, feeling completely at home with this dangerous man wrapped around me. It seems strange to think he terrified me a month ago, now he’s my safe space.

“It’s not the same.” I insist, looking over at him from beneath my lashes.

asks, brushing the hair back

might be asleep but my bre-asts are still aching, and my se*x is swollen and dripping with need. It’s rather freeing to be able to rub myself

massive hands tangles in my hair, forming a fist in the long silky strands while the other slides down over my bottom, hitching my h!ps closer, until the pulsing bundle of nerves at the apex of my things

holding my

to

turns to liquid – figuratively and literally”I confess, and I know he understands. My we.tness has already seeped through my pa*nties and onto the sleek black fabric of his trousers. “You have a power over me I don’t understand,

it’s different for me,

my throat and brushing his l!ps over my

it is.” I whine, so

fangs over the spot where my neck meets my shoulder. “How hard I always am for you?” I’m

You’re in bed with a half-na*ked

they’ve given you a very low opinion of my s3x.” He raises his head at last, taking a break from leaving the soft spot behind my ear. “Trust me, it doesn’t happen for just anyone, no matter what they’re doing or how lovely

l insist. “I’m just a human, I don’t have the kind

deep voice. “And you might be human but you have a powèr all your own. Don’t you know how difficult it is for me to be near

when all my instincts are driving me to make you mine? Ever since we met

one taut n!pple to meet Sinclair’s bare che.st, teased

answers, his l!ps mere inches from mine. “And you give me too much and too little

wanting him to answer. I just want him to k!ss me, to strip off my negligee and finally relieve the terrible ache which seems to have taken over my very soul. I

against him that I stop listening, too intent on chasing my pleasure. I whimper when the delicious friction I’d been building ceases, and Sinclair clucks sympathetically. Still, he doesn’t show me any mercy. Instead he tilts my chin up so I’ll have to look him in the eye, “I don’t waste my time on people l’m not serious about, or relationships

“It’s not like this is

forehead against mine. “Goddess, sometimes I forget how much you don’t know about shifters,