Alpha Dom and His Human Surrogate by Caroline Above Story

Accidental Surrogate for Alpha by Caroline Above Story #Chapter 61 – Baby Bump
Ella
“Wait what?!” I exclaim, certain that I must be hearing things. Sinclair can’t have possibly just said what I think he did.
He smiles, tracing circles on the soft skin of my belly. “You heard me.” He teases.
“Completely naked?” I gape, blushing at the idea alone. “Everyone? Even the children?”
“I’ve told you, shifters don’t a*sociate nudity with S** the way that humans do. It’s our natural state.” Sinclair explains gently. “No one feels self conscious, because there’s nothing. to be embarra*sed about.”
I should have known something was up when he came in this afternoon and woke me from my nap, climbing into bed behind me and sliding his hand underneath the hem of my top so he could feel the baby. I’d whined at being disturbed, but cuddled closer to him anyway, stretching into his tender caresses like a sleepy kitten. Only once I was purring with contentment did he broach the subject he’d come to discuss.
The fourth night of the Solstice festival is apparently devoted to something called moonbathing. I’d hesitated over this idea when Aileen first showed me the schedule, but had been so distracted by the idea of the wild hunt and the masquerade ball that I hadn’t been able to focus on it. Now, however, I can’t focus on anything else. Sinclair has just explained that the moonbathing ritual involves stripping off one’s clothes and anointing our bodies with oil, then laying out in the full moon’s light. I’d been okay with this up until the point when Sinclair clarified that it would happen at a sacred stone circle surrounded by other shifters.
“But… it’s also natural to be curious about other people’s bodies, doesn’t everyone stare? Doesn’t that bother you?” I squeak, thinking of all the times I’ve been uncomfortable beneath. the male gaze when fully clothed, and not wanting to even imagine how much worse it would be naked.
“It doesn’t bother me to be studied or admired,” Sinclair shrugs, looking down at me intently. “But I can understand how that might be different if I was a human woman, and used to being looked at like an object. You have to realize that male wolves don’t disrespect she-wolves that way.”
“So when you were with Lydia, it didn’t bother you for your mate to be naked in front of
other men?” I don’t think I would be so generous if the tables were turned, in fact I’m already thinking about all the she-wolves that will undoubtedly be checking out Sinclair and I do not like it.

“No shifter would be stu pid enough to lay their eyes on the Alpha’s mate in the manner you’re thinking not if they want to keep their heads connected to their bodies.” Sinclair a*sures me. “And if they’re envious, it’s no threat to me. In fact I enjoy having a partner others covet, it just goes to show I won the lottery, and reminds me to be the best mate I can, so that I’ll be worthy of her.”
I consider this for a moment. On one hand I’m very wary of any man who wants a partner they can show off like a trophy that was exactly what Mike did and I know it’s a far cry from being truly valued or respected. At the same time, Sinclair isn’t talking about women the same way Mike used to. He doesn’t want to show off his mate to make others feel jealous, or feel
threatened if someone else glances her way. What’s more, he a*sociates envy with her intrinsic value, not a boost to his own ego or masculinity.
“Now,” Sinclair continues, a sharp edge in his voice now. “If they were to disrespect her, to sniff around her despite my claim, or set a single paw on her…” He growls wordlessly, sending shivers down my spine. “Now that would be another matter entirely.”
I snort when I see the menacing expression on his face. “Sometimes I get caught up thinking shifters are so far ahead of humans, and then you say things like that and I remember you’re just big furry beasts wearing the guise of civility.”
Sinclair chuckles. “We all have our contradictions.”
“I don’t.” I argue, notching my chin up defiantly.
“I beg to differ.” Sinclair replies warmly, his fingers dancing over my bare skin in increasingly sensuous patterns. “You’re the fiercest little ball of mischief I’ve ever encountered, but you’re also the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen,” He purrs, “or held…” His lips drop to my neck, just barely grazing them across my skin. “or tasted.”
“Hey, none of that.” I object, pushing his head away. “I don’t need you getting me all worked up right before I go strip naked in front of a hundred strangers.” I admonish, my voice trailing off as the reality of the event ahead of us sets in.
“It’s gonna be okay.” Sinclair promises. “Besides, all anyone’s going to be doing is trying to figure out if you’re showing yet. This is a royal baby, remember.” He says, tapping a finger on my belly button.
“Well they’re going to be disappointed.” I sigh, though in truth it’s been a few days since I stood in front of the mirror and glared at my middle, willing it to show signs of the life growing within.
“Are you sure about that?” Sinclair arches a brow. “This feels like a baby bump to me.”
I promptly push up onto my elbows so that I can look down at my stomach, even though sitting up puts my neck dangerously close to Sinclair’s mouth again. I can almost feel him thinking about stealing more kisses while I’m distracted. Ever since we admitted that we’re attracted to each other, he’s been more forward about showing me affection, which only makes it more difficult to resist my feelings. If only I didn’t enjoy his touch so much, maybe then I could be more forceful about rebuffing his advances.
His oversized hand is sprawled over my tummy, keeping my shirt bunched up beneath my breasts. It’s hard to see anything with his palm in the way, so he traces the outline of my womb with a featherlight touch. Sure enough I’m surprised to see the smallest of swellings. just north of my pelvis. I suppose part of shifters’ short gestation is seeing these changes much sooner than expected, but that scares me too. What if my body doesn’t have enough time to adjust, to go through all the changes human mothers spend nine months manifesting.
I think Sinclair can sense my unease, because the next thing I know he’s kissing my belly once, twice, three times.
“I said no kisses.” I scold him, earning myself a low rumble in Sinclair’s chest, and his green eyes flashing at my challenge.
“I’m kissing the baby.” He insists, a devious, wolfish grin on his face. “He likes it.”
“Oh sure.” I reply tartly, “blame it on the baby.”
“He does.” Sinclair repeats, kissing me again before slyly adding, “But then he likes it because it makes you happy.”
“You’re incorrigible.” I roll my eyes, but I’m blushing too. And more than that, I’m amazed to think the tiny life growing inside me knows what I’m feeling this way. It didn’t seem strange when the doctors told me he could sense my stress, but I suppose I attributed that to him being impacted by the physical symptoms of stress, not truly feeling my emotions. My heart both swells and tightens in my chest as I contemplate this idea, that we have a bond every bit as strong as Sinclair’s, I just can’t feel it.
Suddenly I’m crying, and Sinclair stops his teasing and crawls back up my body, clucking sympathetically. “What is it sweetheart?”