Chosen To Be The Alpha's Surrogate

**I Penelope I**

The sun is warm on my skin as I step out onto the balcony, a plate with a generous slice of chocolate cake in my hand. It's been a week since I was released from the hospital, and while my body is healing, my mind feels trapped, restless. *Bed rest.*

The very words make me want to scream. I know it's for the best, for the health of our baby, but the forced inactivity is driving me insane. I feel like a caged animal, pacing the confines of our bedroom, watching the world go by without me. *This is it, I guess. Stealing a moment of freedom, however fleeting.*

I settle into one of the plush lounge chairs, balancing the plate on my rounded belly. The baby kicks, as if in approval of my tiny act of rebellion, and I can't help but smile. "You're going to be a little troublemaker, aren't you?" I murmur fondly, rubbing my hand over the spot where I felt his movement. "Just like your daddy."

The thought of Malachi sends a pang through my chest. He's been my rock through all of this, my fierce protector and unwavering support. But I know my forced confinement is wearing on him too, the constant worry and vigilance taking their toll.

He's been running himself ragged, trying to keep us safe.

*And here I am, adding to his stress with my relentlessness.*

Guilt niggling at me, I take a bite of the cake, letting the rich sweetness melt on my tongue. It's a small comfort, but I'll take what I can get these days.

I'm just about to take another bite when the balcony door swings open, Malachi's tall form filling the frame. His eyes widen when he sees me, relief and frustration warring on his handsome face. "Penelope!" He's at my side in an instant, his hands gripping my shoulders as he scans me for any sign of injury or distress. "What are you doing out here? You're supposed to be resting."

I fight the urge to roll my eyes, a spark of irritation flaring in my chest. "I am resting," I say, pointedly gesturing to my seated position. "I just needed some fresh air, Mal. I was going crazy cooped up inside."

He frowns, the lines of tension around his mouth deepening. "You shouldn't be out here alone," he chides, his voice tight with worry. "What if something happened? What if you fell, or went into early labor, or-" "Or *what*, Malachi?" I snap, my temper fraying. "I'm not made of glass. I'm pregnant, not an invalid."

His jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek. "That's not the point, Penelope. There are people out there who want to hurt you, to hurt our child. I can't protect you if you're going to take unnecessary risks."

"Unnecessary risks?" I echo incredulously, my voice rising. "Mal, I'm on our *balcony*. In our *home*. Surrounded by guards and security systems and every precaution known to man."

I push to my feet, the plate tumbling forgotten to the ground as I advance on him. Coming to stand a mere foot short from him, I glare up at him, my hands clenching into fists at my sides. "I'm not some helpless child that needs constant supervision!"

His jaw clenches, his eyes flashing with anger. "This isn't about you being helpless," he grits out, his voice low and harsh. "It's about being smart. About being cautious. There are people out there who want to hurt you and our child, Penelope."

"I know that!" I snap, my own voice rising to match his. "But I can't live like this, Malachi. I can't spend every second of every day terrified, jumping at shadows!"

"You think I like this?" he snaps, throwing his hands up in frustration. "You think I enjoy having to watch your every move, control your every action? I'm trying to keep you safe, damn it!"

"By smothering me?" I retort, poking him hard in the chest. But it does nothing. He hardly even flinches. It only infuriates me even more, senselessly. "You want to treat me like I'm some fragile doll that might break at any moment. I'm *pregnant*, Malachi, not made of fucking glass!"

We glare at each other, chests heaving, the air between us practically crackling with tension. I know I'm being irrational, that my hormones are making everything feel ten times more intense than it needs to be. But damn it, I can't help it. It's overpowering overwhelming. It feels like I'm less of a person with my own thoughts and feelings and more like a problem to be managed.

"I am your Alpha," Malachi growls, his eyes flashing silver-blue. "You will do as I say, Penelope. This is not up for debate."

It's as if he just slapped me across the face, my blood boiling at the sheer *arrogance*. Something in me snaps, and for a moment, I can hear his commanding tone echoing in my head like nails scraping against a board.

Before I can think better of it, I turn around and squat down, hand on lower back, fighting the urge to grunt from having a watermelon strapped to me. I grab a handful of the cake I'd dropped on the floor, coming up and smearing it across his cheek. With a vicious satisfaction, I watch as it sticks to his stubble and drips onto his shirt.

Jaw clenches, frosting in my hand, I spit through my teeth. "Can you hear me now, *Alpha*?"

He stares at me in shock, then slowly reaches up to wipe a glob of frosting from his face. "Did you just..?" He blinks at me, looking almost comically baffled. "Did you just smash cake on my face?"

"Yes. I. Did." I hiss, my chest heaving with the force of my anger. "Because you're not *listening* to me, Malachi. You're not hearing a word I'm saying!"

For a moment, a long moment, we merely stare at each other. And as angry as I am, I can see him fighting his own anger. He fights it until I'm convinced he's angrier than I am, and suddenly, that blind flash of valor turns into cowardice. *Oh, no... What did I just do?*