Accidental Surrogate for Alpha

Ella

It’s all come down to this.

My mind reels as I stare into the dark forest. For weeks I feel like Sinclair and I have been trapped in the same pattern: flirting, holding ourselves back, slipping up and falling in too deep, then retreating. It’s felt like two steps forward and one step back, but the reality is that those one steps have gradually brought us closer to this point. The wild hunt feels like a turning point for our relationship – a critical test to decide whether we become lovers or stay friends – if that’s what you can call us.

I know it’s up to me to decide. For all his affection, compliments and terms of endearment, Sinclair has promised to follow my lead when it comes to taking things to the next level. I appreciate his restraint, but there’s also a part of me that wants him to take the decision out of my hands. It’s just one more impulse this pup has given me that I can’t even begin to understand.

I’ve never wanted anyone to decide anything for me in my entire life, yet here l am agonizing over my desire for a man I barely know, wishing l didn’t have to be responsible for once in my life.

I think that’s the problem. The temptation is so powerful that I want to throw caution to the wind, but I know better. I know so much better. So why am I still debating this?

Because it’s Sinclair. He’s different. He belongs to us. The little voice in my head encourages.

I don’t know what drugs you’ve been taking, but you really need to get a hold of yourself. I counter, feeling more certain now that my conscience has demonstrated just how insane this pregnancy is making us.

This is temporary. It will pass when I give birth. I can’t run around writing checks that my heart won’t be able to cash in a few months. Focus on the pup, focus on the future.

I look around at the other participants in the ceremony: other she-wolves dressed in gowns like my own, their mates glued to them like velcro in anticipation of the hunt. I’m sure Sinclair and I looked much the same a few moments ago, but now I’ve stepped forward to begin the ritual. Ethereal music fills the air, a nearby orchestra playing instruments I’ve never before seen, as drums and singing voices raise towards the full moon.

said shifters can feel the Goddess’s magic. I’m probably

I feel different tonight.

it crazy to think I can actually feel the moon on my skin, or that the electricity pulsing through my veins is not merely

and I glance back at him as one of the attendants hands

he’s barely

sleek black trousers and bare feet. His green

wolf must be right at the surface, and I remember what he told me about

me. I’m not sure if he’s fully lost himself yet, but I can feel the power rolling off of him in heady waves, at least I imagine I can. It must be so much more intense for the actual shifters. I find myself shivering and turning away before the voice in my head can tell me to go steal a k!ss or

made me promise not to run once he’s caught me, but he didn’t

wind on my skin. The deep snow makes it

about five minutes, amazed that I don’t feel even a little bit winded, when a piercing how l shatters the air. For one astonishing moment my body stops dead, trembling and quaking as Sinclair’s wolf calls to me. The sound paralyzes me, no doubt giving him a head start as he takes up his pursuit, but once it’s over I’m able

as I continue running. I’m grinning so wide my cheeks hurt, and actually on the verge of giggling. Why haven’t l ever run in the forest before?

forced to stop until the shuddering need coursing through my body passes. This time I understand why I’m shivering and shaking this way, because the mere sound set my body alight. He might as well have been touching me, bringing all of my neglected nerve endings to life the way only he can. I’m beginning to really

minutes ago I was determined to let Sinclair catch me, but now that seems impossible.

stop us? My

us, I’m never going to stop running