Accidental Surrogate for Alpha

Ella

I’m so focused on Sinclair, I don’t even see the car until it’s almost upon me.

I’m too stunned to move, not that there’s time to get out of the way. The only thing I can do it try to turn my body away from the vehicle, to shield my unborn child from the inevitable crash.

Time itself seems to slow down, and there’s a dull roaring in my ears. My thoughts fly by, and I’m amazed at the logical clarity I’m able to find in a single, split second. I tell myself to go limp, the impact won’t be as terrible if my body isn’t tense with fear. Isn’t that why drunk people often survive car accidents that would be fatal otherwise?

Unfortunately I don’t have time to unwind my tight muscles, as soon as I’ve had the thought a huge weight collides with my back, slamming into me with so much force the breath is knocked from my lungs. I’m spinning, twisting as the wall of iron surrounds me, forcing my feet off the ground. A deafening crash fills the air, though it seems delayed. Haven’t I already been hit?

Then I’m being thrust forward, or is it backwards? I’m moving, flying through the air and yet my limbs are completely constrained. My eyes are clenched shut, and the sound of wrending metal and shattering glass explodes around me. It’s all so sudden, I don’t have time to be afraid, to say prayers for my baby, if not for myself.

I wait for the pain, but it doesn’t come. After a few moments of holding my breath I realize I’m not moving anymore. Am I dead? Was it so sudden that I didn’t feel it?

I peek open one eye, and sunlight blinds me. Is there a sun in the afterlife? I know shifters have a version of heaven, but I didn’t imagine humans got to go there.

There’s a click, like a car door opening, and then the sound of racing footsteps. “Catch them!” Sinclair’s deep voice snarls, so loud that I think he must be yelling in my ear.

Hope courses through my veins. If he’s here then I must not be dead. And why am I so warm? I wonder belatedly, imagining myself sprawled over the hood of a vehicle, in too much shock to feel the impact on my broken body. Shouldn’t a car that’s been sitting in the snow be cold?

“Ella – Ella, are you alright?” Sinclair is talking again, and I open my other eye, anxious to see him. Instead I see the empty street in front of me. “Please say something.” He begs, his gentle hands moving over my body from behind. “Are you hurt? Talk to me baby.”

me. I think dazedly. But that means… I sit up, truly looking around for the first time. We’re sitting on

has

pieces together what must have happened. Sinclair had been fast enough to reach me, but he hadn’t had time to push me out of the way. Instead he’d turned me away from the car and wrapped his own body around

surface, my knees giving out as soon as my feet hit the ground. I vomit into the pristine white snow, feeling Sinclair follow me at a pace much too slow for his supernatural strength. I’m afraid to look at him, but he’s hovering beside me, surreptitiously running his hands over my body, searching for signs of injury yet trying not to disturb. “Stop.” I choke, “I’m alright.. it’s you -“I finally tum to

wolf can walk away from such an accident unharmed. His handsome face is a tight grimace of

battered body. His shirt has been torn to

I’m distracted by sounds of a struggle in the distance. I follow the sound with my eyes, catching our chauffeur wrestling the homicidal driver to the ground a few meters down the road. He must have tried to make a run for it when the car stalled, unable to simply plow through Sinclair’s iron body the way it would have my own. I immediately

violent and feral than any I’ve known before. That rogue hurt Sinclair. He wanted to end my baby’s life and would have taken

pushing myself up on shaky

me around the waist, pulling me back. “Woah Ella, come here, let me

him!” I insist, not

trouble, but right

ear. I can already hear sirens in the distance, loud, shrill, and drawing closer with every moment that

from my overflowing lashes. “He hurt

purring, but the sound keeps stuttering in his chest, as if the internal engine that fuels his rumbles and growls has been damaged. “I know little one, we’ll make him pay, just take it

my feet to the ground. “You’re all bloody.” I observe pitifully, wishing I knew

toddler, though admittedly a very violent one. Still, Sinclair isn’t listening, the stubborn man has his palm pressed to my belly, his eyes scouring me for the hundredth time. “The baby’s okay.” He

answer, an ambulance skitters to a stop behind the wreckage, and EMT’s leap from the back of the vehicle, sprinting over to us. They slow down as they draw near, warily approaching us as Sinclair holds me tightly and begins