#Chapter 277-Ella Gets Hungry

Sinclair

1 wake, a few hours later, jumping up straight the moment I realize that Elle n’t next to me

She had drifted off to sleep hours ago after a simple dinner and a movie marathon. While she dozed next to me, I’d spent most of the late hours of the night answered the stack of emails piling up in my inbox and watching her sleep from the corner of my eye. But now, when my eyes peeked open for just a moment after maybe two hours of sleep?

Gone

I hurl the sheets off of me, getting to my feet in a flash, my head whipping around as I search the empty room for her with all of my senses. But my eyes tell me that she’s not here, and my nose

Her scent is dull, but not stale She hasn’t been gone long

A growl starts in my chest as I stalk from the room, looking through the empty hallways for my mate, desperate to find her. She was on bed rest, damn it – where the hell else would she be except bed? Unless

Unless, something had happened – but she’d have woken me –

Or she’d been kidnapped – but there’s no way I’d have slept through that.

I follow her scent quickly, my anger intensifying as I realize that it leads me down stairs. God damn it, the doctor expressly forbid her from stairs. I pound down the staircase hurrying through the hall and slamming open the kitchen door –

But then, she’s suddenly there. Seated alone at the kitchen table in the dark, surrounded by a pile of food, her eyes wide.

she’s been caught and lowering the piece of cold fried chicken back down to its plate. “Do you want

side, relief washing through me like a wave. “What are you doing down here?” She looks up at me with her eyes still

obvious.

I don’t let her off the hook. “The doctor told you to stay in

“I didn’t go far!”

you not to go

holds up a corrective finger at me. “He told me not to go up stairs. And

pressing my eyes shut. “Ella,” I whisper

was hungry!”

gaze back to her, glaring. “I could have gotten you food! Anything you wanted! I would

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voice worried. “When you’d just fallen asleep, Dominic She shakes her gently at me. “You can’t be at my beck and call like this- not for something simple

ask, my anger fading but still not erased, “would you have gotten back upstairs? After your…” “I stare around at the rather shocking amount of food gathered on the kitchen table, “feast?” “You have like six couches, Dominic,” she replies, smiling innocently up at me like a

planned out?” I murmur, relenting and raising a hand to play with the ends of her lovely rose–gold hair. I’m starting to calm now, realizing that

quips, giving me a big smile and reaching for an Oreo,

and pull a chair out for myself, sitting next to her. She hasn’t won – not yet

absolutely all over the place – fried chicken, pasta salad, cakes, wasabi–dipped peanuts,

grimace as she takes

have a better selection upstairs. Maybe we can hire someone…”

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