Alpha Dom and His Human Surrogate by Caroline Above Story

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.

sudden electricity. I know he’s here before I hear his voice, but it doesn’t make the sound of his deep ba*s any less beautiful.

time itself slows down. My vision blurs with tears, and I’m crying out for

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 fresh scratches covering his skin. I’m worried for the wounds hidden beneath his

tightly I can’t breathe, but I don’t care. I want him to hold me even tighter, and so I cling to him with all my strength, wrapping

over my skin. “Ella, my Ella. I’ve been so worried.” I can only whimper in reply, running my hands through 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 knees, and though I’m trying my best to fuse our bodies together, he begins tugging at my limbs, “I’m so sorry, my

but his inner caretaker has claimed full control and he drags my body away from him with

an agonized expression, his eyes sweep over the gash where my 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 wolf whines as if my pain is his own, and Sinclair studies and fusses over

my belly. He lets me

to my neck as he focuses on the pulses of energy through his bond with our son, nibbling the spot on my shoulder

incredible 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

about you?” I sniffle, “are you hurt? What happened in

inch of 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 my bruises with featherlight tenderness, then following

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 embrace, purring

same way he stripped me, a fresh stab of pain slicing into me with every new scar and abrasion I find. His

still with such urgency despite the time which has

the others just for trying to protect

time I sense a flash of anger directed towards me. “They were always going to kill them, that’s

want Sinclair

not for anyone.” There’s a threat in his voice, but the strange thing is that I find the suggestion of his dominance more calming than anything else. I suppose it tells me that he still loves me enough