Alpha Dom and His Human Surrogate by Caroline Above Story

#Chapter 278 – Just Like Old Times

Sinclair

“Hey baby!” I say cheerfully to Sinclair as he appears in the doorway to our room late that night, leaning against the frame and smiling tiredly at me. “Do you want some pizza?” I hold up the greasy square box perched on the edge of my nest. “There’s only half a slice left but…” I shrug, “it’s really good.

“No, Ella,” he replies, laughing and coming into the room, sitting on the edge of the bed. “That’s your cold, hours–old pizza. You keep that for you.”

“Right answer,” I murmur, snapping the box closed, pleased. I was saving that half–slice for my inevitable midnight craving, when I knew I’d be starving for it. “Is it normal?” I ask suddenly, turning my head to Sinclair. “To be this hungry in a werewolf pregnancy?”

He nods, smiling at me and laying down to bring his face closer to my stomach, placing a warm hand on it and saying hello to our pup through the bond. “Yes, it’s normal,” he says, looking back up at me. “There’s a notable uptick in feeding habits in a wolf pregnancy. Baby is hungry and mostly formed, all he has to do now is grow. He needs lots of food for that.”

“Good,” I murmur, running my hands through Sinclair’s hair as he gently strokes my stomach, murmuring little nothings to our pup. “I didn’t just want to be a pig.” As soon as I say the word, though, I have a sudden, striking desire for bacon. My stomach grumbles with longing, making Sinclair laugh.

He looks fondly up at me. “Can I get you anything, oh hungry one?”

I laugh and swat at him. “No,” I say, nodding towards my food reserves on the bedside table. “I’m set for a while. Besides, I just want you.” I scootch myself down so that I’m flat on the bed, moving down so that Sinclair’s face is even with mine, instead of my belly. “I missed you all day,” I pout

“Did you,” he murmurs, wrapping one of his huge hands around the small of my back to pull me close against him. He angles his head down, nuzzling my mating mark and giving it a gentle lick. I feel a little thrill climb up my spine.

“Yes,” I murmur, running my hands through his dark hair again. “Even though I know you were off being important and powerful,” I sigh dramatically, “It was a great sacrifice for me.”

He laughs and brings his face up closer to mine. “Well, I’m so sorry to have put my angel mate through such an ordeal,” he teases, brushing his lips with mine. “I’ll have to think up some way to make it up to you.”

I freeze at this, at the look and intention I see in his eyes. “Dominic,” I warn, pushing him away a little. “You know we can’t –”

just because I’m hungry for you doesn’t mean

again in his arms. I feel a little guilty for doubting him – I know, of course, that my safety

means.

away from me for a moment and tugging on the hem of my pajama shirt. “Sit

that I’m sitting only in my pajama pants and a bra. I wonder what the

worry, trouble,” he says, shaking his head.

wrinkle my nose in confusion. “Dominic, what

as he sits back on the bed and

haven’t done that for months – and I’m your mate now, don’t I

pulling me back against him eagerly, like I’m something he can’t

shriek, horrified and laughing at the

the two empty bags on the nightstand. “You’ve been hoovering

limp on his arms. He laughs,

tugging my pajama pants off and leaving me only in my plain bra and cotton panties. I certainly hadn’t worn anything s*xy or alluring – I hadn’t known this was on the table. Beautiful,” he mutters, and then

grasp his face as he brings it close to mine. “Wait,” I protest, glancing towards our bathroom. “let me go brush my teeth – corn chips – oh my god

me back on the bed. “It’s not your breath

eyes with my hand in mortification. “That’s it. I’m not eating anything but pineapple for the rest of this pregnancy.

22

instincts. Your body just telling you what it needs.” He brings his face to mine, nudging my nose with his, coaxing a little smile from my mouth. “And when it makes you smell

that bursts from me at this. His own warm laugher reverberates through his body as he begins the old ceremony. He moves slowly over me, caressing me softly, murmuring his praise and his love for me as he imparts his scent on every inch of my body. I feel myself relax immediately under his hands, closing my eyes and feeling him move over me, his chiseled muscles

That’s new

–

the experience of him marking me is warm, and familiar, and brings me back to a time when I was so confused, and so frightened about my future and my place with him. A time when my body knew that it belonged to him, and his to me, where it sang that knowledge every time he touched me. But