Accidental Surrogate for Alpha novel Chapter 94

Sinclair

When Ella collapses in my arms, I can hardly wait for the nurses to come running. I immediately assume we must have missed some injury from the accident, and I’m instantly furious with myself for letting her talk me into being prioritized by the medical staff.

What was I thinking? I know they checked her out and there weren’t any physical marks on her body, but what if it was something internal? What if she somehow hit her head amid all the chaos? Deep down I know that doesn’t make any sense, she was completely wrapped in my arms when we collided with the car, but my fear isn’t logical. It’s sudden and violent and overwhelming.

“It’s okay, Alpha.” The doctor assures me as they move Ella onto a gurney of her own. “It’s probably just the stress. There’s been a lot of excitement today.”

“She has high blood pressure.” I warn, “we’ve been monitoring it daily, but her OBGYN is worried she’s developing preeclampsia.”

My wolf is growling and whining at once – impatient for the doctors to help Ella, worried for her health, and hating that anyone else is near her when she’s so vulnerable. She looks so young and innocent in her unconscious state – so small and fragile. Her rose gold hair is a shining cascade over the flimsy pillow, still streaked with my blood. I stay beside her even after the nurses try to order me away. “I’m not going anywhere.” I insist, battling my guilt over whether this is all my fault.

Would she have been so overwhelmed if I hadn’t needed her to keep me calm? If I hadn’t been such an ogre with the EMTs and the doctors, would she have been free to relax and recover without added stress?

At once, I think about her comments regarding Lydia. On one hand I know she’s right, continuing our fraud when there’s an honest option changes things completely from a moral standpoint. But beyond morality, if there was a way to protect Ella from all this stress and guilt, from the threats posed by the Prince and being my Luna, shouldn’t we pursue that? I’ve been justifying our arrangement on the grounds that becoming King is the only way to make the pack and my family safe, so the threats she’s facing to help me win the crown are necessary. But that won’t be true anymore if Lydia conceives.

Should I be trying harder to find a she-wolf to become my Luna? Not for the campaign’s sake, but for Ella and Rafe’s?

It’s not that simple. My wolf insists. The pack aren’t going to accept you throwing over Ella for Lydia. You’ve been doing everything in your power to make them fall in love with the human and it’s worked.

That’s not because of me. I remind him., stroking Ella’s hair as the nurses take her vital signs and hook her up to an IV. She made them love her all on her own, just by being herself.

And Lydia made them hate her by being herself. He argues. If you come forward and tell them you’ve decided to take Lydia back, it could cost you the campaign, whether she’s breeding or not.

You may have a point. I acknowledge.

I don’t just have a point, I’m completely right and you know it. He replies haughtily.

Fine. I concede, feeling exhausted by this debate, but that doesn’t mean it has to stay that way after the campaign is over. Ella deserves to have whatever life she wants – if that’s a quiet existence with our pup out of the public eye, then I want to give that to her, even if it means letting Lydia or someone else be Luna after I’m King. That was the original plan, remember? It’s not her fault I got lost along the way.

But you’re not the only one who’s gotten lost along the way. My wolf argues. Think about how jealous she was, how upset she became over the idea that you’d been with another woman. That has to count for something.

“Dominic?” Ella’s soft murmur wrenches me from my thoughts. I breathe an instant sigh of relief – how long had I been holding my breath? It doesn’t seem fair that such a small, harmless creature can tie all my insides into knots the way Ella can. She thinks she’s powerless. I muse, standing to lean over her bed, yet there is no one on earth who has ever had so much power over me.

The doctors had declared Ella dehydrated, stressed and hypertensive, but otherwise unharmed, leaving me to brood over my thoughts while I waited for her to wake. Her OBGYN is on his way in, but until he arrives, we’re alone.

“You naughty girl.” I tease, stroking her soft cheek. “Fainting to get out of telling me your feelings?”

“It wasn’t on purpose.” She pouts, looking over me with obvious concern. “Why are you out of bed? What about your x-rays?”

“Don’t worry about me, sweetheart.” I encourage, “how are you feeling?”