Accidental Surrogate for Alpha novel Chapter 33

Sinclair

I smell Roger the moment I walk through the door. My wolf is immediately alert, and I approach the first guard I see. “Was my brother here?”

“Yes Alpha.” The man replies. “He requested a meeting with Ella, and she granted it.”

I do not like the sounds of that. “How long was he here? Is she alright?”

“They spoke for close to an hour.” The guard replies. “She didn’t seem upset afterwards, but she went to bed early and without supper.”

Worry simmers in my belly. If Roger was here it was undoubtedly to make trouble, and while Ella might have simply been exhausted, I don’t believe these events are unrelated. I haven’t eaten either, but I head straight upstairs to check on the mother of my pup. However when I reach my rooms, Ella isn’t there.

Instead I make my way downstairs to her suite, concern tying my insides into knots. I push open the bedroom door, following the luscious aroma that is Ella, and stalk silently inside. She’s curled up beneath the covers, sleeping as sweetly as can be. I’m smiling despite my inner turmoil, moving to sit by her side as she doses.

Ella is lying on her stomach, her arms folded up beneath her pillow, her rose gold hair spilling over her bare shoulders in a silky cascade. I brush a few locks away from her face, content to simply watch her sleep. She looks so angelic like this, and I feel a fresh wave of worry for what Roger might have said to her. Did she go to bed in her own rooms because I wasn’t home, or because Roger upset her?

I’ll kill him if he’s said or done anything to harm her. The thought circles ominously around me for a long moment, and I’m a bit taken about by the force of my conviction. I feel so protective of this little human – is it really only because she’s carrying my baby?

After a minute Ella’s brow furrows and she whimpers in her sleep. I worry she might be having another nightmare, which brings on yet another flood of possessive energy. What happened in her life that haunted her dreams this way? Was she reliving past horrors, or simply imagining terrors which haven’t actually come to pass? Something about the way she refused to talk about the last one makes me suspect the former.

I push the covers down only far enough to expose the curve of her spine, needing to feel her shape beneath my fingers. When I stroke one large hand down the graceful column she stirs and stretches, turning towards me and unconsciously cuddling closer. She blinks her brilliant eyes open a moment later, offering me a bleary eyed yawn. “You’re back.”

“I am.” I agree, “And you’re in the wrong bed.” I tease, petting her slender waist and marveling at how small she is compared to me. The breadth of my hand easily circles her ribs, and I wonder if my fingers would actually touch if I tried to wrap my other hand around her middle.

“Mmm,” She moans, the sound like a sultry torment to my oversensitized ears. “You weren’t here.”

“As if that’s any excuse.” I mockingly scold.

“Are you going to make me move?” She murmurs, though her eyes have already closed again and she sighs contentedly as I continue to caress her.

“I should.” I muse, “I should make you get up and have the dinner you skipped.”

Ella peeks one eye open then, pouting in a way that does nothing to garner my sympathy and everything to make me contemplate claiming her plump, pink lips. “Your servants are tattle tales.”

“Uh-huh.” I chuckle, trying to keep my tone light as I continue, “they also told me about your visit with Roger.”

Ella hums with indignation, but doesn’t say more.

“Would you like to tell me what he wanted?” I ask after a moment.