Surrogate For Alpha Dom

Chapter 400

Bringing Aid Ella Our first night in the palace is so strange for me.

My two boys are sleeping soundly on either side of me – Sinclair sprawled out over our supersized bed (it’s much bigger than a King – I don’t even know if they have a name for it anymore; we had to make a custom order) and Rafe’s bassinet is pulled up close on my other side.

I look first at my mate and then at my little baby, smiling at each of them, marveling at how much they already resemble each other with their dark hair and their wide-set eyes, each framed with dark lashes.

My smile deepens as I look between them. NôvelDrama.Org (C) content.

I mean, Sinclair is of course lacking Rafe’s pudgy cheeks, but the resemblance is still uncanny.

It’s very, veryclear who this baby’s daddy is.

“Rude of you, little baby,” I whisper, rolling over on my side and peeking into the bassinet, “to not bother looking like me at all.” He sighs a little in his sleep and wiggles, getting more comfortable.

It’s so cute that I think my heart might burst at the sight of it.

But the sight of my super-cute little baby can only do so much to distract me from all of the thoughts racing through my mind right now.

I roll onto my back and stare at the distant ceiling, turning them over one-by-one.

Half of them pertain to the wedding, which I really am excited about.

And I do think it’s a good idea – half of the trouble of bringing this nation together is suggesting to humans and wolves alike that this nation respects both kinds of persons – and that we’re allequal.

A marriage between them – especially as publicized as Sinclair thinks it should be will go far with both populations in suggesting that the Royal family, at least, truly embraces this idea.

I wrinkle my nose and laugh a little at the thought of myself as part of aroyal family- I’m nowhere near fancy enough for such a title – but then I sigh again, distracted.

Because Sinclair’s other point is still valid – I know, in my heart, that I want to help our citizens, helpeveryone.

And I have this incredible healing power that I could use in our nation’s hospitals to actually physically help people… But is that what I really want to do? Is that the best use of my gifts? Then, quite suddenly, I remember someone who might be able to help.

As quietly as I can, I turn over and slide open the drawer by my bedside table, pulling out the cellphone that I haven’t had for weeks since we’ve been away in the bunker.

I flick it on and then quickly pull up a familiar name in my contacts and send off a text: Isabel! I’ve been a bad friend – but we’re back now, from where we had to go.

Do you have a minute tomorrow? To talk? Biting my lip – because I really do feel bad about neglecting my friendship, especially after I asked her to stay here instead of going home – I send off my message and hope that my friend can forgive me.

But, considering how good and kind she is if not a bit sharp-edged at times, I think, smiling – I think, and hope, that she’ll forgive me.

Then, feeling a little better at having gotten started on a plan, I finally drift off to sleep.

When Sinclair’s alarm rings the next morning, he groans as he rolls over to turn it off, and then he flops back in his spot and reaches out an arm for me.

But he opens his eyes in surprise when his hand meets…nothing.

Because as soon as I heard the alarm, I gasped and rolled away, reaching for my phone, desperate to see if Isabel replied.

Yesss,” I whisper, excited to see that I have a message waiting.

“What?” Sinclair asks, groggy.

“What’s happening?” “Nothing,” I murmur, quickly flicking my messages open.

Go back to sleep.” Ignoring him, I eagerly click open Isabel’s reply.

Ella! Where the hell have you been!? We’ve all been so worried! Please come and see me – I want to hug you myself and assure myself that you’re all right.

I’m at the Refugee Center – come by any time after 8, someone will lead you to me.

I eagerly start to type out my reply but, before I get far, I hear a snarl behind me and feel a gigantic arm wrap tight around my waist.

I gasp and then shriek in shock as Sinclair pulls me, laughing, across the bed to settle tightly against his chest.

“What the hell is this,” he growls in my ear, pretending to be angry.” Mymate? Neglectingme in the morning?” “Ohh, poor big scary Alpha,” I tease, turning in his arms so that my stomach is pressed against his, pouting mockingly up into his face.

“Did you need your morning kiss and snuggle, or else you can’t start your day?” “Damn right I can’t,” he growls, baring his teeth at me – an act that would probably make some men quail but which only makes me laugh.” We’re going to have to introduce some discipline in this house – you haveduties,

little Queen -” “Ohhhh, little Queen,” I say, pressing myself tighter against him and wrapping my arms around his neck so that my whole body is flush against his.

“I like this new nickname.

Very elegant.” “Do you,” he murmurs, dropping his head to drag kisses along my neck and down across his shoulder, the tickly stubble of his beard making me shiver.

“I could think of a few other things to call you.” “Oh really,” I sigh,” rolling one shoulder back so that Sinclair can continue his path down across my collar bone and lower, until his lips press against the skin just above my breasts.

“Like what?” “Bad girl,” he offers, glaring up at me.

“For snatching up your phone first thing in the morning.

Making me jealous of whoever it is you’re talking to.” And then he drops his gaze, continuing his path.

I shudder a little at the feel of his lips against my skin, burying my fingers in his silky black hair and letting my head tilt back a little at the pleasure of it.

“No reason to be jealous,” I murmur.

“It’s just Isabel.

I’m going to visit her at the Refugee Center today.” “What?” he asks, snapping his head up, all the play gone from his voice.

I go still, frowning at him, wondering what went wrong.

What is it?” “You’re going to the Refugee Center?” I turn my head to the side.

“Is that…bad?” “It’s very dangerous, Ella,” Sinclair says, staring hard at me.

“Those people are desperate – they will doanythingto better their situations, they could seek to take advantage of you -” “Baby,” I murmur, putting a hand on his cheek and frowning deeper while I search his face.

“That’s precisely why I should go.

They need help – I can help them -” He sighs and hangs his head for a moment, thinking it through.

I wait, trying to be patient but unable to help feeling a little frustrated.

Just yesterday he told me to find my own path, and today he’s trying to tell me that my chosen path is too dangerous? “I just…want you to be safe,” he says, lifting his head and looking me in the eyes.

My frustration flees instantly because I understand – I really do.” We’ll be safe,” I whisper, running a hand over the stubble of his cheek.

” Isabel goes every day – and she wouldn’t put me in a situation if she thought that I -” “Wait, we?” Sinclair says, sitting up fully now and looking at me sternly.

“Who is ‘we’?” “Rafe and I,” I say, sitting up on my elbows and looking up at my gigantic mate towering above me.

He laughs, derisive, and looks You arenotbringing the baby.” away.

I laugh right back.

“Just try to stop me!”