Accidental Surrogate for Alpha

#Chapter 131 - Ella Dreams of Sinclair

Ella

Sleep! I beg my manic wolf. You have to keep your strength up! We need sleep!

I can't rest when there's danger. She argues stubbornly, and though I’m frustrated, I understand. I'm so exhausted with fear, anxiety, and pregnancy that I’m barely hanging onto my sanity by a thread, but I know it's the right thing to do. I need to keep my wits about me.

I haven't heard anything since the Prince visited my rooms. The servants brought me food and fresh linens, but I didn't trust them enough to actually eat, and as comfortable as the bed looks, it's a far cry from my beloved nest. I don't feel safe here, so how am I ever supposed to let my guard down enough to rest?

If only I could talk to Dominic, to know that he's alright and warn him about what I learned. As soon as the thought enters my mind, I realize what a fool I've been. There is a way! Of course there is!

I pull one of the blankets off the bed, scanning the room. I've circled the space about two dozen times already, memorizing every nook and cranny. Three guards are posted outside my door, and two more are posted on the ground below my third story window. In the end I clamber into the large wardrobe, needing to be hidden from sight - to feel walls around me even if they aren't truly strong enough to ward off an attack.

I toss and turn, trying to get comfortable and calm my wolf. My mind is still reeling, but the knowledge that I could soon be lost in a dream with my mate gives me the determination I need. When I open my eyes again, I'm in the same moonkissed forest I've visited in our other dream dates, and I pray that Sinclair has the sense to sleep too.

It happens slowly.

The more time that passes, the more I fear he's too frantic to rest, but after what feels like hours, I feel the air around me change, sparking with sudden electricity. I know he's here before I hear his voice, but it doesn’t make the sound of his deep bass any less beautiful. "Ella!" Footsteps are racing towards me, and then I'm out of the bed in the trees, sprinting towards the sound of his voice.

itself slows down. My vision blurs with tears, and

beneath the stars, his ravenous gaze locked on me with such avid determination that part of me wants to turn and give chase - but I push those instincts far away. We're both wearing the same curious clothing that always appears on us here, but the closer Sinclair comes, I can see he’s got a black eye and

with his. Powerful arms lock around my body, clutching me so tightly I can’t breathe, but I don't care. I want him to

his hair and hoping he can feel my love as powerfully as I can feel his. "Such a clever mate, to think of our dreams! So perfect, so sweet." He drops to his

control and he drags my body away from him with utmost ease.

head hit the window in the car, the black bruise on my temple where the wolves knocked me out, and the blooming blue shadow on my cheekbone from Lydia's slap. His

I hiccup, shaking my head and dragging his palm to my belly. He lets me guide his movement, obviously equally concerned.

the pulses of energy through his bond with our son, nibbling the spot on my shoulder where he claimed me the last time we were here. "He's okay, but he’s stressed." He finally

relief. I'd been terrified that he might have been injured in the crash. ‘There," Sinclair croons, stroking my tummy as he breathes in my scent. "You see, that's better already. Oh my sweet mate, you must have been

I sniffle, "are you hurt? What happened in the

my body for injuries because he can focus on anything else. He growls every time I try to object or push him away, running his hands over

dissuaded from investigating every last scent on their owner's clothes after they come in from outdoors, albeit a very growly and affectionate one. Of course, I would ever voice such a comparison to Sinclair. He won't be satisfied until he's checked me from the top of my head to the bottom of my feet, switching back and forth between words of love and threats against the Prince. When he's finally finished, he pulls me into his lap and wraps me up in a tight

stab of pain slicing into me with every new scar and abrasion I find. His ribs are positively purple, and I feel guilty

with such urgency despite the

me and the baby.” I confess, ’They killed Gabriel and the others

me." They were always going to kill