Accidental Surrogate for Alpha

Ella

It’s been three weeks since the ball, and though I can scarcely believe it, it seems like all the campaign

drama passed with Solstice. There has been nothing but calm since the holidays, and I’m beyond

thrilled that I’ve been able to relax a bit, even though part of me is waiting for the rug to be pulled out

from under us.

I’ve spent my time pouring over baby books, making plans for our nursery, and brainstorming baby

names – and the best past is that I’ve felt less nauseated and achy every day. In fact, yesterday

marked the beginning of my second trimester – since shifter pregnancies are so short – and it seems

impossible to think my baby will arrive in four short months. My stress has already eased knowing I’m

leaving the most vulnerable phase of my pregnancy behind, and I don’t even mind that I’ve been

seeing Sinclair less now that he’s gone back to a regular work schedule.

Well, that’s not entirely true. I miss him. I miss him much more than I should, but I’m also grateful for

the space. It’s much easier to resist our attraction to each other when we’re not constantly together and

taking part in int!mate rituals and r0mantic outings.

I don’t know why you’re being so stubborn. The little voice in my head mutters. If you’re going to give in

eventually, why not throw in the towel now and enjoy being together in the last months before the baby

comes? You do realize that in another four months you’ll never be alone again.

I’m not having this argument again. I decide. We agreed it’s better for the baby if we can co-parent

without our own relationship drama getting in the way.

You mean you decided and he went along with it because he doesn’t know it’s such a stupid reason.

My conscience snipes.

It’s not stupid! I insist. I’m going to be a mother, I have to put my baby first – that’s what being a parent

is all about.

You keep telling yourself that. The voice derides.

We both know you’re just a big scaredy cat.

Oh put a sock in it! I exclaim, losing my patience.

Stupid conscience.” I mutter aloud, sorting through the clothing racks in my giant closet and trying to

choose an outfit for our parenting class tonight.

Uppity, annoying, impossible..”

“Talking to yourself, trouble?” Sinclair’s deep voice breaks through my angry diatribe, and I jump about

ten feet in the air.

Whirling around, I find him leaning in the closet doorway, watching me intently. “Dominic, you scared

me half to death!”

The big wolf tsks, coming forward and pulling me into his arms, petting me gently. “I”m sorry.” He

croons, k!ssing my hair. “Sometimes I forget how weak your hearing is.”

“My hearing is fine!” I object, feeling irrationally angry all of a sudden. “It’s your ridiculous shifter stealth

that’s the problem. It’s not right that anyone as big as you should be able to move around so quietly.”

“Alright.” He agrees, and I have a sneaking suspicion he’s smothering a smile. “It’s my fault, I’m a big

hulking beast and I need to do a better job of stomping around.”

I pull away from him, narrowing my eyes. “Are you laughing at me?”

Now Sinclair does smile, “Is there any way I can answer that question that won’t annoy you?”

I huff, deciding not to dignify that question with an answer. I turn back to my closet, beginning to rifle

through trouser options. “Nothing fits anymore.” I complain, eliminating every pair of pants I come

across. “I can’t button any of these!”

Sinclair’s palm rubs over the gentle curve of my belly. The changes are still very slight, but my clothing

has gone from being a bit tight to entirely too small. My bre-asts might not be so tender anymore, but

they spill out of all my br-as, and my favorite fitted tops now stretch and strain to cover my growing

tummy. “That’s a good thing, Ella.”

Sinclair reminds me gently. “It means the baby is growing big and strong.”

“Oh enough of that!” I argue, not sure why I’m so determined to disagree with everything he says.

All that means is that your giant pup is coming closer to pushing my body past its limits. Normal women

don’t show this much at this stage you know.” My throat is stinging with the threat of tears, even though

I know I’m being unreasonable.

I feel like I’m on a roller coaster, I can see exactly what’s happening, but I also can’t get off the ride.

Sinclair clucks sympathetically, “You’re having a rough day, aren’t you, sweetheart?” I can hear the guilt

in his voice, and it makes me want to cry all the more. He’s been working from home a lot and I can tell

he feels like he’s neglecting us, but there’s also nothing to be done. He bears so much responsibility,

and it’s only going to get worse if he wins the crown. Suddenly I feel terrible for being so grumpy with

him, when he’s already blaming himself despite doing everything he can to take care of me.

“I’m sorry.” I sniffle. “I shouldn’t be giving you a hard time”

“You’re allowed.” He promises, pulling a wrap dress from the clothing rack. “Here, no buttons, no

zippers. You don’t even have to wear a b-ra.”

“Thank you.” I murmur, sliding my arms around his middle and squeezing tightly. Sinclair purrs and

snuggles me until I’ve had my fill, and half an hour later we’re back on the padded floors of our monthly

birthing class, listening to the instructor explain precisely why I’m slowly losing my mind.

“Moms, you’ll be feeling physically better now that you’re out of the first trimester, but this is the time

when your h0rmones really kick into high gear.

You may already be experiencing some intense mood swings, as well as physical changes to things

like hair growth or skin pigmentation.” She looks around at the couples spread out on the mats, and I

see I’m not the only expectant mother looking sheepish or anxious.

“You’ll also experience heightened lib!dos something I encourage you all to take advantage of, as you

won’t have time for much fun after your pup arrives.”

Oh great. I think bitterly. As if it wasn’t already hard enough to resist Sinclair. I’d known this was part of

pregnancy, but I also hadn’t understood how powerless I’d be to my h0rmones. I’d assumed it would be

like PMS mood swings, not these constant extremes. The instructor is still speaking.

“Bottom line, mates, it’s your job to keep Mom satisfied and relaxed during these next few months.

She’s going to need you to be her rock while she weathers these stormy seas, so I encourage you not

to go overboard coddling her – tempting as it may be. Her wolf needs to feel your strength now more

than ever.”

Somehow I really don’t think they give the same advice in human birthing classes. I mutter to my

conscience.

A warm chuckle rumbles against my back and Sinclair’s voice sounds in my mind. You should see the

look on your face.

I look up at Sinclair, wondering how he was able to see my expression in the first place. He grins down

at me, then steals a k!ss from my pouting lips.

“You also need to create a birthing plan you’re both comfortable with.” The instructor carries on. “By

show of hands, who here is considering a home birth rather than a hospital birth.”

I raise my hand hesitantly.I haven’t decided which option I feel most comfortable with yet, but I’m open

to either and want to hear what she has to say. However, almost as soon as I put my hand up, a low

growl sounds in my ear. “Put that lovely little hand down. You’re going to deliver in the hospital and that

is not up for discussion.”

I turn to glare at him. I might not be decided yet, but I don’t appreciate him taking away my options.

“You’re supposed to be keeping me relaxed and listening to my instincts.” I state fiercely, mimicking the

instructor in a saccharine tone even though the whole class can probably hear us, “trusting my body’s

wisdom.”

“Ella, you’re high risk.” Sinclair reminds me sternly, the rugged contours of his face set in a foreboding

expression. “We need to be at the hospital in case the doctors need to make an emergency

intervention.”

I know he’s thinking of my high blood pressure, not to mention the fact that I’m going to be the first

human in recorded history to give birth to a shifter. I also know this makes sense, but his high handed

manner is making me gnash my teeth in frustration, “It’s my body.”

His wolf flashes in his eyes, “You’re mine – and so is this baby. I’m not going to let you endanger him or

yourself, Ella.”

Without thinking, I offer him a snarl – which on my lips sounds more like the grumble of an angry kitten,

but I’m sure my intentions are clear.

Sinclair’s hands tighten around me. His power washes over me, and I wish I had a tail to tuck between

my legs. “Did you just growl at me, little mate?”

Despite my trembling spine, I tilt my chin up defiantly. “Why not? You growl at me all the time.”

Before he can respond, the instructor laughs, breaking the tense silence in the rest of the room and

reclaiming control over the class. “You see, this is the perfect example of why it’s important to talk

about these things together early on. You might assume you’re on the same page but discover you

have different ideas.”

It’s also an example of why naughty humans need just as firm a hand as she wolves. Sinclair intones,

speaking through his bond with the baby. His mouth is at my throat, his lips grazing the spot where he’ll

one day pretend to mark me.

I feel a n!p from his fangs, and my anger abruptly slips away. All of a sudden my entire body melts, and

I realize that the instructor had been right- I do need to feel Sinclair’s strength right now. Then again,

maybe this is more h0rmonal insanity, because why else am I now wishing he could mark me for real?