Accidental Surrogate for Alpha

#Chatper 458-Preparations Ella

I jump almost out of my skin when Sinclair bangs through our bedroom door. I spin with the baby in my arms, my eyes wide. Sinclair’s clearly all worked up as he slams the door behind him, his eyes instantly fixed on me, looking me up and down.

“Why are you dressed like that?” he asks, his voice angry, though I can tell that he’s not mad at me he’s just worked up at what must have been a very stressful day.

“Like what?” I ask, looking down at myself. I’m wearing what I think is my most conservative dress – black, floor length with a little bit of a train behind me, with long sleeves and a crew neck that cuts across my collar bones, showing nothing beneath.

“Well, you look beautiful, Ella,” Sinclair bites out, glaring at me a little like it’s an accusation.

I blink at him for a moment, my eyebrows raising. “Is that a problem, Dominic?”

“Why are you all dressed up?” he growls, crossing to me.

“I just thought that I’d get ready, in case I am supposed to go to dinner – ”

“And you decided to wear that!?”

“Okay,” I say, keeping my voice calm and doing my very best to keep my own temper now, because my mate? He’s pushing it. I put one hand out, resting it against his chest. “All right, Dominic. I’m going to give you a minute now to rethink your words, and then we’ll start again.”

He narrows his eyes at me, not liking at all that I’m talking to him like a kindergartener. But I cock my head to the side, asking him to consider the irony that at this moment I need to talk to him like a kindergartener.

After a long moment he sighs and turns away from me, hanging his head and putting his hands on his hips. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, pulling himself together. Then he drops his face in a hand. “It has been a long day, Ella.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” I murmur, taking a step forward and putting a hand on his back, stroking up and down, wanting to bring him comfort. “Tell me,” I say, and my mate turns and puts his arms around me as he tells me all about the meeting.

I sigh when he finishes. “I’m sorry, Dominic,” I say, looking up at him. “I know you tried.”

He shakes his head, looking down at me with his gorgeous green eyes. “It doesn’t matter what I tried – they’ve already decided.”

I nod, understanding, but knowing that he’s going to take the blame on himself no matter what logic presents itself.

Then I bite my lip a little, considering. “Does this mean I’m going to dinner?”

He sighs again, more deeply this time and steps away from me, putting a hand on my shoulder and turning me around. I do as his hands tell me to, spinning so that my back is to him, and then I sigh a little as he clasps my zipper in his hands and starts to pull it hastily down.

“Yes,” he says, and I sigh in disappointment –

But then I frown, because…wait, what?

“I’m going?” I ask, trying to turn, but my mate holds me still until he has the zipper all the way down to my ass. Then he starts to push at the gown at my shoulders.

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“You are,” he says. “I already sent word to the Prince, accepting in your stead.” A shiver passes through me at the warmth of Sinclair’s palms against my shoulders, my upper arms, but

“Well then what are you doing?” I ask, turning and frowning at him even as he tries to stop me. “I’m already dressed! I’m -”

“I’m taking this damn dress off you, Ella,” he says, gruff. “Don’t you have like, a dirty old sack you can wear? Or a saggy sweatsuit?”

I laugh but I take a step back from him, starting to pull my dress back on. ” Dominic! I’m not going to dinner with our enemy looking like a slob. This dress is so matronly -”

“Matronly?” he says, slipping his hands into his pockets and raising a single eyebrow at me. “Ella, I was hard the moment I walked in the door and saw you in that dress – ”

“Yeah,” I say, waving a dismissive hand, “But that’s every dress – ”

“Damn right it is,” he growls, stepping towards me again, the predator in him coming out.

But this just makes me laugh, as much as it turns me on. Because Sinclair – I like him like this. Maybe we should keep this Atalaxian Prince around if it gets my mate all worked up…

“No, Dominic, I’m wearing this,” I say, struggling to pull my dress back up over my shoulders while I hold the baby.

“Fine,” he says with a little sigh, taking the baby from me. “But take it off anyway. Just for a few minutes.”

“What?” I ask, confused as Sinclair kisses Rafe, murmuring a greeting to him as he carries him over to his little crib and placing him down inside. When that’s done, Sinclair stands by the bed and raises a hand, beckoning me closer with his fingers in a way that gets me even more worked up.

“I’m going to scent mark you,” he says as I start to walk slowly over to him.

“What?” I say again, though I don’t stop moving, wanting to be in his arms as he shrugs off his suit jacket and starts to unbutton his shirt. “Dominic, you haven’t had to scent mark me in months – I’m your mate I already carry your scent all the time -”

But my words falter a bit as Sinclair gets his shirt off, revealing his broad, muscled chest. My mouth goes a little dry as his hands move to his pants, unbuckling his belt and shoving them down to the floor.

“Do it, Ella,” he commands, his voice low and bossy.

I do as he says, raising my hands to my shoulders and pushing at the dress, slipping it off my arms and letting it pool on the floor around me.

“On the bed,” he orders, nodding to it, his voice brooking no argument.

I obey, stepping out of my dress and over to the bed. And then I slowly start to crawl across it, wearing nothing but my black pumps, and my panties, and my lacy bra.

A growl rumbles in my mate’s chest as he watches me crawl to him, as I sit up with my knees apart, looking up at him with my hands resting on my thighs.

“Well?” I say, flicking my eyes down over my nearly-naked body. “If you’re going to do it, Dominic -”

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But he doesn’t let me finish my sentence, climbing onto the bed himself in a flash, grabbing me to him and then laying me slowly out onto the bed so that I’m stretched beneath him the way I used to be, at the beginning of all of this, when he would take his time rubbing his body over every inch of mine.

I moan a little as he begins the ceremony again, starting by pressing a lingering kiss to my neck and them moving downwards over me, pressing his skin to mine, making sure that every inch of me bears his scent.

I do my best to stay still not because I can’t touch him but…well, because part of me enjoys reliving this experience, thinking of when I was too scared to touch him, when I tried to deny what he did to me, physically, and how desperately I wanted him.

“Dominic,” I say quietly as his hips settle between my legs, pressing himself against me as he works his hands slowly up and down my arms. ” Not that I’m complaining, but…why are we doing this?”

“Because,” he murmurs, lifting his body and then sliding a broad hand beneath me before swiftly flipping me over onto my stomach in one move that makes me laugh, just a little, before he starts on my shoulders and my back. ” If I’m going to send you out there with him, I’m going to make sure he damn well knows you’re mine.”

And I laugh again, shaking my head even though it’s resting comfortably against the pillow. Sinclair works his way down my back, making sure every inch of me gets a fair share of his attention. “He already knows that, Dominic,” I murmur, almost undone by the pleasure of it. “Everyone does- the world does. A man would have to be a fool to try to take me away from you.”

“Because he knows that I would kill him in a second,” Sinclair growls, possessive and territorial and mine.

But I turn over a little, looking up at him, reaching out a hand to touch his arm, making him listen to me. “No,” I say softly, holding his gaze. “Dominic, because everyone knows that no one could ever convince me to walk away.”

And something in him gives at that, at the realization that he doesn’t have to hold onto me because he knows that nothing in me wants to leave. And it’s not that he didn’t know, but

Well. He’s an Alpha, isn’t he? And I’m his Luna, and his mate. It’s in him, somehow, this instinctual urge to hold me tight, to snarl recklessly at anyone who gets too close.

But as I hold his gaze, Sinclair sighs and lays himself down next to me. “All right, Ella,” he murmurs, nodding and pulling me close against him. “You’re right.”

“Am I stinky enough?” I murmur, giggling a little bit.

“No,” he growls, sliding his fingers into my hair and taking a steady grip there. “Not ever.”

“Well then,” I whisper, leaning close and pressing my lips almost against his. “I guess I’m going to be late to dinner then, aren’t I?”

“Good,” he growls. “Make him wait.”

And then my mate kisses me, and presses me down into the mattress, and I relish every moment I’m in his arms.

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