Alpha Dom and His Human Surrogate by Caroline Above Story

#Chapter 292 – A Gift

Sinclair

Agony.

It’s agony for me – obviously, more for my mate, I’m sure – but watching her survive this is ripping me apart.

I struggle against Roger’s grip – he shouldn’t be stronger than me, he’s never stronger than me, I should be able to break away – but something about all of this has just taken it out of me. I am weak, now, watching my mate struggle for her life, watching my son take his first breaths, that rips the energy from me. I gasp for breath, panicked, looking between my Ella and the baby in the doctor’s hands.

“Relax,” Roger commands, his voice low behind me as he holds me back with a hand on each of my arms. “Let them work. You can’t do anything right now. They’ll call you when they need you.”

I know he’s right, but the impulse – I have to do something –

Still, I stand with my brother, letting him take control as I watch Hank and Cora moving, blessing them in my mind with every breath that pants from my lips. Ella lays back against the pillows, pale, breathing faintly, apparently half conscious and half out.

The pair of doctors move fast. Hank glances over the crying child and then quickly hands him to Cora, reaching for the medical bag that sits on the bed between them. Cora does a quick inspection of the baby and then hastily cuts the umbilical cord. Then, she meets my eyes.

“Come and take your child, Dominic,” she demands, wrapping him hastily in the scrap of a pillowcase that I tore to pieces not long ago. “He’s fine – but Ella needs both Hank and I right now.” Roger releases my arms and I move forward, my eyes half on my beautiful Ella as I take the baby from Cora’s hands. I can’t – how can I greet my son when his mother –

“The child,” Cora says, holding my gaze for a brief moment before turning back to Ella. ” Concentrate on the baby, Sinclair. We’ve got Ella for now.”

–

And so I do. I look down at my infant son, crying his lusty little heart out, waving his little tiny fists in the air. Something in me takes over something I’m not sure I knew was there – as I begin to shush my child, to rock him, to try to bring him to a peaceful state in this scary new world. Slowly, softly, I raise my hand to wipe at the liquid on his face, to clear it, marveling at the fact that his entire head is completely dwarfed by the size of my palm

And then, following an impulse that’s totally new to me, I lean forward and bring my face close to my sons, pressing a kiss to his head and taking a deep breath of his new baby scent, totally new and, somehow, already totally his own. “Welcome, baby,” I murmur.

From the corners of my vision I can see Cora and Hank working swiftly with their medical supplies, Hank sewing quickly while Cora crouches by Ella’s head, taking her pulse and smacking

her cheeks a little.

name, my attention snaps away from Rafe and to the sisters on the bed. “Ella,” Cora says, and I see my mate – oh, thank god – I see her blink, and focus on her sister,

to Ella’s side, determined

ignores me as I take my mate’s hand, the baby curled in the

steady. “It’s time to access the gift. You need

nods her head and closes her eyes. But I don’t know if that’s because….because she’s accessing the gift?

call her name, but Cora snaps her attention to me and shakes her

mouth, and squeeze my mate’s hand, and let her do her

Ella

–

to do anything right now to think, to concentrate, to communicate – let alone enter the calm meditative state I

pain, and I don’t know whether it’s blood loss from Hank’s medical cut, or some sort of tear within me, or…something else. But

the brief moments when I can concentrate, I see Sinclair standing by my side, feel his hand in my own, and see our little baby wrapped up in a sheet in

as he was in

–

my breathing, to not slip into oblivion, I close my eyes and work to access

red to that cool lavender, and I feel the balm of my mother’s gift begin to wash

I’m glowing, as Cora was, that day

working inside me, and they’re just holding their breaths, hoping that I’m not…I’m not slipping

feel it take hold of me, though, like a mother’s welcoming arms. I feel cradled within its warmth, and can almost hear her – the Goddess, my mother whispering to me

I’ve given the world, I have

through gra*s, seeking the roots of me, wanting to refresh but taking its time getting there. But as it seeps through every inch of me, I feel

breath and look around at the

Who

–

at it – apparently, whatever

reaching for my son.

all right, Ella,” Sinclair says, quickly kneeling by my side and offering my son to me. Tears slip down my cheeks and

I lay my eyes on my