Accidental Surrogate for Alpha novel Chapter 21

Sinclair

I think my wolf is broken.

Legitimately.

I can’t figure out what on earth is going on with him. Last night the threat against Ella made my heart practically leap out of my chest, but that’s to be expected. What was not to be expected was how upset my wolf became when he realized that Ella had washed my scent off. Despite what I told her, it had nothing to do with protecting our cover, and everything to do with him throwing a tantrum that she was no longer scent marked.

Being naked with her was both a blessing and a curse. I could happily admire her beautiful body all day long, but the intimate physical contact got me more than a little excited. My balls were so blue by the time my wolf was satisfied that the only way I could calm down was by listening to the baby’s heartbeat. It was an important reminder to be gentle with Ella, and gave me more joy than I can express.

My mental link with the pup is a fleeting thing, and most of the time all I can hear are blips of emotion. The baby is happy when it hears Ella’s voice or smells me, it likes it best when we’re together, and more often than not it simply sleeps. Still, merely being near it has given me new appreciation for my own father. I never knew it was possible to love someone I’ve yet to even meet so much, and the power of the bond astonishes me. Moreover, I want Dad to meet Ella – he’s had a rough few years, and I can’t think of anything that would make him happier than meeting the woman carrying his first grandchild.

Ella looks nervous as the car moves along through the heavy mid-day traffic. I haven’t told her who I’m taking her to meet yet and I’m getting the impression she doesn’t like surprises. She’s a fascinating puzzle, this little human. Clearly accustomed to great hardship and yet obviously used to getting her own way. I suppose after such a turbulent life, control is a crutch for her, so much so that she panics when it slips out of her fingers. Is it terrible that I enjoy throwing her off balance so much, knowing what I do about her past? She’s just so cute when she gets all riled up – I can’t help myself.

When the car finally pulls to a stop, Ella blinks up at me hopefully. “Will you tell me now?”

“Come on, trouble.” I chuckle, sliding out of the car and extending my hand to help her do the same, “You’ll find out soon enough.”

Ella grumbles mutinously under her breath as she sets off down the street, and I catch her waist, pulling her under my arm. “Would you like to say that a bit louder?” I intone ominously.

“No.” She responds tartly. “I would not.”

“You know I have supernatural hearing, right?” I question, watching her eyes widen anxiously.

She processes this for a moment, then narrows her eyes suspiciously. “Could you really hear me?”

“Not this time.” I admit, “you did a good job mumbling.”

“Then I’ll do a good job in the future too.” Ella decides, nodding in approval of her decision.

I’m reluctant to laugh and encourage her defiance, but I can’t stop the corners of my mouth from quirking up. I steer her into the house, pushing through the heavy door without pausing to knock. As we stride inside the familiar space, I’m transported back to my childhood, remembering walking these same halls as a young boy. It’s not as luxurious as my current estate, but it’s undeniably the place I consider home.

“Whose house is this?” Ella asked, surveying the comfortable rooms curiously.

“Actually, this is the house where I grew up.” I finally share, nodding towards the photos on the wall.

Ella is so preoccupied studying the images that she doesn’t seem to notice my father wheeling into the hall, seated comfortably but permanently in a high-tech wheelchair. Either Ella really is interested in the images before her, or human hearing is even worse than I realize, because she doesn’t turn around until I speak.

“Dad this is Ella.” I nudge her forward so they can meet, “Ella, this is my father.”

Ella blinks, seeming unable to find the words to reply. This was clearly the last thing she expected. My father was once a terrifying man – every bit as tall and imposing as I am myself. Now however, he’s a shadow of the man he used to be. He was paralyzed from the waist down more than five years ago now, and even though the injury stole his title, vitality and mobility, he’s never let it dampen his spirit. In intelligence and will he’s as strong as he’s always been, and I still learn from him every time we talk.