Surrogate For Alpha Dom

Chapter 23

Ella

I must have misheard him. He can’t truly mean that he wants me to move into his rooms. Does he really think I’m that much of a baby, that I need constant watching?

“But it was only one dream.” I protest, my voice still shaky, “I swear it’s not a big deal.”

Sinclair purrs again, and I feel my insides melting against my will. “Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. I just want you to sleep easily.” Before I can stop him, he’s lifting me into my arms.

“Sinclair–” He interrupts me with a growl, and I quickly amend myself, “Dominic this really isn’t necessary. I can sleep on my own.”

“I’m sure you can.” He concedes. “But I want you close.”

“And what about what I want?” The words slip out before I can stop them, and Sinclair pauses, looking down at me with an appraising look.

“And what do you want, Ella?” He asks huskily, his deep voice reverberating down my spine.

“I–” I open my mouth to tell him I want to be alone, in my own space and without his intimidating presence. However somehow I can’t make the words come. Why is it that I can’t seem to stop myself from speaking when I don’t want to, then can’t make myself talk when I do? What is this man doing to me?

Sinclair smirks. “You know the problem, don’t you?” He taunts, and I can only shake my head in reply. “You can’t lie to me. The pup is making you more and more like a wolf, and wolves can’t lie to their Alpha’s, not directly at least.”

The breath seems to evaporate from my lungs, I can’t lie to him? My eyes go wide as I realize the implications of this, and I want to protest that such a thing isn’t fair, people are entitled to their secrets! “But you’re not my Alpha.” I finally protest, my voice sounding very small indeed.

Sinclair cocks a brow. “Aren’t I?” After a beat he continues towards the door, as if this settles the matter. I don’t know why I don’t object further – maybe because he’s clearly made up his mind, maybe because I don’t really want him to change it. I let him carry me out into the hall, flushing scarlet when I see so many guards waiting outside my room. Had all these men heard me screaming like a baby? Surely I hadn’t spoken or said anything while unconscious?

“Do you always have this many guards posted at night?” I squeak.

“This pup is the most important thing to me in the world.” Sinclair responds simply. “You can expect lots of guards to be around from now on.”

Of course. I think, It’s all for the pup. I’m just an afterthought. Will I ever be anything more?

I don’t need to ask Sinclair to know the answer – it’s already painfully obvious: No. In a world of mystically powerful beings like wolves, a human like me could never be anything but an afterthought. The only reason he’s putting up with me at all is the pregnancy. And honestly, the only reason I’m putting up with him is our arrangement… so why does it hurt so much?

___________________

The next morning I wake up to find a maid setting down a room service tray by my bedside, stacked high with my favorite foods. At first the smell of fruit and oatmeal has my stomach growling, but before I can so much as raise a spoon to my lips, a wave of nausea overtakes me. I rush to the bathroom and retch, groaning pitifully.

When I finally finish with the joys of pregnancy, I return to Sinclair’s sprawling, king sized bed. The food which looked so appetizing a moment ago just makes my stomach churn now, but I notice a folded note on the tray. My name is scrawled across the front in the swooping handwriting I now recognize as Sinclair’s.

Ella,

I’ve arranged an interview for you this morning, with the leading news outlets in the area. We’ve been getting a lot of requests and the reporter promised you would only have to answer questions of which I approved. Call me if you have any questions. I’ll see you tonight.

Yours,

Dominic

An interview?! I’ve never given an interview in my life! And this won’t even be an interview as myself, this will be an interview under cover, pretending to be a completely different person, a completely different species! What kind of questions are they going to ask, what on earth am I going to say to them? What am I going to wear?

Two hours later, I’m seated in front of an intimidating man in a sharp looking suit, feeling very small and out of place. A camera is poised on my face, and I’m trying to look serene – rather than panicked. I found a pretty sweater dress in the wardrobe Sinclair procured for me, and decided that simple elegance was the best foot forward. Now I wonder if I miscalculated, the reporter is watching me with sharp eyes, and I can already feel myself blushing.

“So Ella, it will come as no surprise to you that many shifters in the Moon Valley Pack and beyond are very curious about you.” He begins obliquely. “With you by his side, the Alpha is poised to become our next King, yet no one knows anything about you.”

“I can understand how that might worry some pack members.” I smile gently, trying to appear confident and self-assured.

“How did you and Dominic meet?” He presses. “When did it happen, I’d love to hear the whole story?” Belongs to (N)ôvel/Drama.Org.

Sinclair and I had discussed this at length, even before this interview arose. “Well it will be obvious to all those in the know that we aren’t fated, but I can’t help thinking that the Goddess didn’t play a hand in our meeting. For years my family in the Shadow Pack insisted we had no other relations – apparently my parents cut ties with the Moon Valley before I was even born. It wasn’t until they passed away that I learned about my cousins here – including Aileen Corentin.”

We’d decided the story should be as close to the truth as possible, so my fake identity is an orphan just like I am in reality. “I came to visit her after making contact, and of course she’s the wife of Beta Hugo. One day I was having lunch with Aileen and Hugo and Dominic walked in… and the rest is history.”

“But you haven’t known each other very long, is that correct?” The reporter inquires.

“Yes,” I confirm. “But when it’s true love, it doesn’t take long for the heart to recognize its mate. And then we were blessed with a pup without even trying.”

“Some pack members might be worried that you come from such a humble background, you have no experience leading.” The reporter states bluntly. “How would you respond to their fears?”

This was a question Sinclair hadn’t prepared me for in our earlier discussions regarding our cover. We decided on what we would tell people about how we met, nothing more. “I would say that great leaders come from all kinds of backgrounds, and in fact my humble origins give me insight into the needs of everyday shifters in a way that an aristocratic upbringing would not. I’m in touch with what regular people want and need, and I can speak for them with empathy and understanding, representing their voices in a forum where they often left out.”

The reporter arches his brows, and I know I’ve impressed him. Take that! I think triumphantly. People always assume I don’t have a brain in my head because I’m young and attractive, not to mention I chose to work caring for children. But I’m no fool, and hopefully this will help the shifters see that.

“And what do you think our society needs most at this time in history, what is the biggest issue the future King and Queen need to address?” He asks.

I navigate his questions with more or less difficulty for the next half hour, feeling better about some responses than others, and praying that I haven’t put my foot in my mouth. I think I’ve done well, but I’m completely exhausted. At first part of me was excited to pretend to be someone other than myself – almost like playing dress up or make believe. However that initial interest disappeared very quickly, when I realized just how stressful it is to constantly be acting.

I know what it’s like to put up walls around myself, but this is the first time I’ve ever been forced to blatantly lie to those around me, to try to pass myself off as someone else. All at once, the gravity of this deal I’ve struck slams into me. If I’m exhausted now, how am I going to feel when I’ve been doing this for months? Years? Can I really do this for the rest of my life? What will happen if the truth comes out? What will people do when they learn I’m a fraud?

Because, I realize, that’s what I am. This isn’t just a game or a play we’re performing, I’m actively deceiving people. I’m campaigning to take up a public office, and lying every step of the way. Guilt and worry assails me in a tidal wave, this is wrong! I think frantically. I have to talk to Sinclair.