Alpha Dom and His Human Surrogate by Caroline Above Story

#Chapter 432 – The Delegation Ella

Sinclair steps close to my other side so that Rafe is between us. My hand still holds Cora’s on my left as Roger steps to her side. Together, I realize, we present quite a united front: the Alpha King and his demigoddess Queen standing with their much-coveted child and heir. And then, next us, the Duke and Duchess, likewise a brilliant alpha and a magical goddess-born half -human hybrid wolf.

I find myself smirking a little at the thought of all of our magnificent formal titles when I know the truth: that we’re honestly just four people desperately grateful that we’ve been lucky enough to find each other and build a family.

But still, facing this delegation? I’m a little glad that we’ve got some intimidating credentials to speak for us. Brave little mate, Sinclair says to me down the bond, making my smirk deepen. I’m glad you’re letting them see that you’re not scared of them.

Oh, I’m scared of them, I pass back, not bothering to look up at him for support. But you’re right. There’s no reason for them to see it.

He gives me a warm nudge of support as the first line of five Atalaxians step forward and give a bow. The man at the far left of the line steps forward then, beginning to speak. He introduces himself first – the first and most significant member – and then moves on to each new delegate, who bows his heads to us each in turn.

I turn my head a little as this formal introduction progresses, because this is …odd. I understand that this reception has a rather official quality, but each of the greetings we’ve given to each delegation before this has been warm and chatty, with people introducing themselves warmly or greeting Sinclair and I as old friends, if they know us.

The Atalaxians? They don’t say a word, instead letting their singular speaker do all the work.

Still, I do my best to follow along as Rafe begins to fuss in my arms, not liking something – I don’t know what, though. I hold him higher, tighter against me, trying to pass a little calmness down our bond so that he can relax, maybe fall asleep. The baby responds to this, resting his head against my chest a little and settling.

The speaker finishes introducing the first line of delegates, which includes the predictable ambassadors and senators who have been sent to witness the coronation and have discussions about the future connections between our two nations.

the second row, I’m surprised to hear the speaker introduce a Prince, which makes my eyes raise. Why had he not been

admit that I do not catch his name, which I kick myself for. I’m a Queen now or about

being honest. He’s about my age, and tall, with dark hair and a handsome face with eyes such a light

know it, but I do – I’m absolutely sure of it. The prince nods steadily to Sinclair, looking serious but perhaps even a little bored, like he’s done this a thousand times. And then turns his eyes to me, but when

me for a long

Prince comes back to himself in a second, his eyes flicking to Sinclair before he regains his bored composure, nodding to me, and

I look up at my

on earth just

is dismissed and Rafe starts to fuss again in

that he’s upset. Honestly, my sweet baby hardly ever cries, instead letting us know what he needs through little taps and pulses down the bond to which we respond as quickly as we can. It’s honestly the best part of being a wolf mother – and an aspect of it

look up at Sinclair, worried. “I think I have to take him out,” I murmur, glancing

back. I need us all here, for this delegation at least. If he cries, he

and nod to us. I nod in turn, though I admit that my attention is decidedly focused on my son, who cries in earnest now, unhappy. I hold him tight, bouncing him in my arms, worried and wanting him to feel

line, which has worked before sometimes he passes me an emotion, or has

are totally focused on the baby, ignoring the final members of the delegation in my maternal concern for my son, when suddenly the speaker’s words catch my

Moon Valley, who has been

going wide as they focus on my uncle, the man

from Cora’s that speaks to heat, and burning, and

in her grip, but something about it works – she holds me back from reacting at all, giving me a moment

he growls, violence in every line of him now, and I can feel him holding himself back from murdering Xander this instant, “about whether this man was welcome upon our nation’s soil. Because he is not. This man is a war criminal, and wanted for

to pieces

in every line of his face