Chosen To Be The Alpha's Surrogate

**I Penelope I**

The morning light seeps through the white curtains, painting the room in a soft, golden glow. I've been awake for hours, watching the play of light and shadow across the ceiling, unable to summon the energy to face the day. My body feels heavy, as if the very air is pressing down on me.

Malachi checked on me before he left, his concern etched in the furrow of his brow. I managed a weak smile, assuring him I just needed a little more rest. But as the morning wears on, I realize it's more than simple fatigue weighing me down. There's a strange sensation coursing through me, like my skin is too tight, my senses slightly off-kilter. At first, I chalked it up to dread at the prospect of another day of festivities, of navigating the treacherous waters of pack politics. But this feels... different. More physical. More unsettling.

I lie there, listening to the muffled sounds of the mansion coming to life around me. Footsteps in the hallway, distant voices, the clatter of dishes. The normal, everyday sounds that should be comforting but instead feel alien and jarring. *Maybe I'm coming down with something.*

I force myself to sit up, perhaps a little faster than I should have. The room spins for a moment, and I have to close my eyes until the dizziness passes.

The thought of a fever propels me out of bed and into the bathroom. My legs feel shaky, uncertain, as if I'm walking on a ship in stormy seas rather than the solid floor of our bedroom.

I run a bath, the sound of running water oddly loud in my ears. Steam rises from the tub, and I breathe it in deeply, hoping it might clear whatever fog has settled over me. As I sink into the warm water, I expect relief. Instead, the feeling of wrongness intensifies.

It's like I'm a stranger in my own body. The water that should be soothing feels almost abrasive against my hypersensitive skin. I can hear my heartbeat, loud and slightly too fast. Even my reflection in the bathroom mirror looks... off. Not quite right, though I can't put my finger on why.

I close my eyes, trying to center myself, but my mind wanders to the evening ahead. To the possibility of running into Julia again. The thought sends a spike of anxiety through me, so sharp and sudden it's almost physical. I force it down, reminding myself of Malachi's promises.

*Trust him. He chose you. He loves you.*

But the doubts linger, mixing with the strange sensations in my body until I'm not sure what's physical discomfort and what's emotional turmoil.

I don't know how long I sit there, lost in the swirl of my thoughts and sensations. The water has gone cold by the time I drag myself out of the tub, my movements slow and clumsy.

As I dress, every brush of fabric against my skin feels magnified. The soft cotton of my dress might as well be sandpaper. I avoid looking in the mirror as I do my hair and makeup, not wanting to see that strange, not-quite-me reflection again. By the time I'm presentable, I feel like I've run a marathon. My breath comes in short, sharp pants, and there's a thin sheen of sweat on my brow. But I can't hide in our room forever. I have responsibilities, expectations to meet.

With a deep breath that does little to steady me, I open the bedroom door. The guards posted outside greet me with respectful nods, their eyes watchful. I manage a weak smile in return, hoping my discomfort isn't as obvious as it feels. As I make my way down the hallway, voices drift towards me. I slow my steps, not wanting to interrupt or draw attention to myself.

"...heard the former Luna might be back for good," one of the maids is saying, her voice hushed but excited.

"Can you imagine? After all this time..." another replies.

Their words nudge at something inside me I wish they didn't, sending a wave of nausea through me. I lean against the wall, trying to steady myself, when another voice cuts through the gossip.

"That's enough," Mara, one of the kinder maids and seemingly my only ally in this pack, says firmly. "It's disrespectful to Luna Penelope and to our Alpha. We should be supporting his choices, not undermining them with idle gossip." A wave of gratitude washes over me, warming me from the inside. It's a comforting difference from the cold I felt at the mention of Julia. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to ground myself in this unexpected moment of support. When I open my eyes, I find the other maids staring at me, horror written across their faces. They stammer out apologies, but I wave them off, not trusting my voice. I'm too tired, too off-balance to deal with their drama right now. *What is going on with me?*

I turn, intending to retreat to the safety of our room, only to find Malachi himself standing right behind me. His eyes are hard as flint as he glares at the maids, and I can feel the anger radiating off him in waves. "Don't you have work to do?" he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "There's a lot to prepare for tonight's festivities. I suggest you get to it."

The maids scurry off, leaving us alone in the hallway. As Malachi's gaze shifts to me, I watch the anger melt away, replaced by concern. It's like watching storm clouds part, revealing the sun underneath. "Penny," he starts, his voice softer now, but I cut him off.

"I'm okay," I insist, even as the world tilts slightly around me. "Really."

He doesn't look convinced. Stepping closer, he presses a kiss to my forehead. I lean into the touch, craving his warmth, his strength. But as he pulls back, his frown deepens.

"You're burning up," he says, his hand cupping my cheek. The coolness of his skin against my flushed face is a blessed relief. "Are you feeling alright?"

I hesitate, torn between not wanting to worry him and desperately needing some explanation for how I'm feeling. "I feel... weird," I admit finally, the words feeling inadequate. "Off. I thought maybe it was just the pregnancy, but..." Malachi's eyes narrow, studying me intently. "Look at me," he says, tilting my face up. His gaze locks with mine, and for a moment, it feels like he's seeing straight through me, into my very soul.

Whatever he sees there makes his brow furrow even deeper. "You're not participating tonight," he says, his tone brooking no argument. "In fact, we're both sitting this one out. I think the rest will do us good."

Relief washes over me, so strong it nearly brings tears to my eyes. I don't even try to argue, just nod gratefully. "Thank you," I whisper, the words catching in my throat.

Malachi wraps an arm around me, and I lean into him, grateful for his solid presence. "Come on, little rabbit," he murmurs, his voice a soothing rumble against my side. "Let's get you back to bed."

As we make our way back to our room, I can't shake the feeling that something fundamental has shifted. That this strange day is just the beginning of something bigger, something that will change everything.