Accidental Surrogate for Alpha

Chapter 320

#Chapter 320 – The Archive

Cora

That evening, our car rumbles down the road towards the archive, Roger steady at the wheel. Another car with two guards follows behind us, keeping a steady eye out for anything strange. I sigh, already exhausted, even though I got more sleep than Ella or Roger or Sinclair last night. Still it wasn’t exactly a peaceful sleep – and then today, with the sketch artist…

I stare down at a copy of the sketch in my lap, at the face of the man I didn’t realize had been haunting my dreams. To be able to see him put on paper like this – it’s…it’s like staring at the ghost you didn’t know was haunting you. A little shiver passes through me and I neatly fold the page, placing it in the cup holder next to me, not wanting it in my hands anymore.

“You all right?” Roger asks, glancing over at me.

“Yeah,” I say, sighing again, my eyes on the road. “How long until we get there?”

“About two more hours,” he replies evenly, nodding towards the GPS system running on his phone. “We’re lucky that they’re staying open late for us.”

“We’re not lucky,” I murmur, leaning down to tug at the bottom of the jeans that Ella loaned to me which are, predictably, too short. “Sinclair is rich. Anyone will stay open that late in exchange for an insane donation.”

Roger smirks, glancing at me, but doesn’t reply. Because he knows I’m right.

I feel my phone buzz then, tucked under my thigh, and I pull it out, unlocking it and looking at the

new message on my screen.

Hank: It’s okay, I totally understand. I’m glad the baby is okay. Don’t worry about the clinic – I can hold it down for as long as you need. Have fun? Is that the right sentiment for a trip to an obscure shifter archive?

I smile, laughing a little inwardly at his joke. No, fun was not precisely the word I’d choose either, not for this trip. My smile falls, though, when another message pops onto the screen.

Hank: I miss you.

my leg. I look back to the windshield

asks, smug. I know,

I murmur, turning

it Ella?” he quips, needling me.

to send a little glare his way. “It wasn’t

him, I guess, to let me know that he knows. I sigh, closing my eyes and letting my head rest back against my seat, my face turned away from Roger, wanting a little nap but knowing I’m not going to get

wanders to Hank, and I think of him seeing patients alone in our little clinic

last night? – when I’d pulled him half dressed into my bedroom, gasping for him, and let him peel my clothes from my body

stuff

stuff. Great

why can’t I text him back and tell him

sigh, willing my mind away from it, turning it towards other things. I listen to the steady hum of the car, to the very, very faint sound of Roger breathing next to me. But I don’t reach for my phone. Somehow, I

I drift off to sleep, I wonder if that makes me just….incredibly cruel. I sigh,

hand on

me a warm little smirk. “That’s how you woke me up

and looking around in the dark. “Are we here?” The car is parked but still running, the windshield wipers slowly moving against a light rain. I look at it

you ready to go in?

seat, my eyes closed, and take a mental inventory of myself. Body? Stiff, but all right. Mind? Thoroughly

left uninvestigated, for

turning a sunny smile Roger’s way. He blinks a little bit, perhaps surprised to see it.‘ Did you

“I heard from them,” he says, “but nothing of note. All is

roof. “But then you won’t have slept

a swift wink, stretching himself after long hours at the wheel. “Don’t worry about me, baby,” he says. “I’ve got stamina.” And then he heads for the entrance to the ornate building

I turn to follow, the last thought echoing in

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