Surrogate For Alpha Dom

Ella
“Wait what?!” I exclaim, certain that I must be hearing things. Sinclair can’t have possibly just said what I think he did.
He smiles, tracing circles on the soft skin of my belly. “You heard me.” He teases.
“Completely naked?” I gape, blushing at the idea alone. “Everyone? Even the children?”
“I’ve told you, shifters don’t associate nudity with sex the way that humans do. It’s our natural state.” Sinclair explains gently. “No
one feels self conscious, because there’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”
I should have known something was up when he came in this afternoon and woke me from my nap, climbing into bed behind me
and sliding his hand underneath the hem of my top so he could feel the baby. I’d whined at being disturbed, but cuddled closer to
him anyway, stretching into his tender caresses like a sleepy kitten. Only once I was purring with contentment did he broach the
subject he’d come to discuss.
The fourth night of the Solstice festival is apparently devoted to something called moonbathing. I’d hesitated over this idea when
Aileen first showed me the schedule, but had been so distracted by the idea of the wild hunt and the masquerade ball that I
hadn’t been able to focus on it. Now, however, I can’t focus on anything else. Sinclair has just explained that the moonbathing
ritual involves stripping off one’s clothes and anointing our bodies with oil, then laying out in the full moon’s light. I’d been okay
with this up until the point when Sinclair clarified that it would happen at a sacred stone circle – surrounded by other shifters.
“But... it’s also natural to be curious about other people’s bodies, doesn’t everyone stare? Doesn’t that bother you?” I squeak,
thinking of all the times I’ve been uncomfortable beneath the male gaze when fully clothed, and not wanting to even imagine how
much worse it would be naked.
“It doesn’t bother me to be studied or admired,” Sinclair shrugs, looking down at me intently. “But I can understand how that
might be different if I was a human woman, and used to being looked at like an object. You have to realize that male wolves don’t
disrespect she-wolves that way.”
“So when you were with Lydia, it didn’t bother you for your mate to be naked in front of other men?” I don’t think I would be so
generous if the tables were turned, in fact I’m already thinking about all the she-wolves that will undoubtedly be checking out
Sinclair and I do not like it.
“No shifter would be stupid enough to lay their eyes on the Alpha’s mate in the manner you’re thinking – not if they want to keep
their heads connected to their bodies.” Sinclair assures me. “And if they’re envious, it’s no threat to me. In fact I enjoy having a

partner others covet, it just goes to show I won the lottery, and reminds me to be the best mate I can, so that I’ll be worthy of
her.”
I consider this for a moment. On one hand I’m very wary of any man who wants a partner they can show off like a trophy – that
was exactly what Mike did and I know it’s a far cry from being truly valued or respected. At the same time, Sinclair isn’t talking
about women the same way Mike used to. He doesn’t want to show off his mate to make others feel jealous, or feel threatened if
someone else glances her way. What’s more, he associates envy with her intrinsic value, not a boost to his own ego or
masculinity.
“Now,” Sinclair continues, a sharp edge in his voice now. “If they were to disrespect her, to sniff around her despite my claim, or
set a single paw on her...” He growls wordlessly, sending shivers down my spine. “Now that would be another matter entirely.”
I snort when I see the menacing expression on his face. “Sometimes I get caught up thinking shifters are so far ahead of
humans, and then you say things like that and I remember you’re just big furry beasts wearing the guise of civility.”
Sinclair chuckles. “We all have our contradictions.”
“I don’t.” I argue, notching my chin up defiantly.
“I beg to differ.” Sinclair replies warmly, his fingers dancing over my bare skin in increasingly sensuous patterns. “You’re the
fiercest little ball of mischief I’ve ever encountered, but you’re also the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen,” He purrs, “or held...” His
lips drop to my neck, just barely grazing them across my skin. “or tasted.”
“Hey, none of that.” I object, pushing his head away. “I don’t need you getting me all worked up right before I go strip naked in
front of a hundred strangers.” I admonish, my voice trailing off as the reality of the event ahead of us sets in.
“It’s gonna be okay.” Sinclair promises. “Besides, all anyone’s going to be doing is trying to figure out if you’re showing yet. This
is a royal baby, remember.” He says, tapping a finger on my belly button.
“Well they’re going to be disappointed.” I sigh, though in truth it’s been a few days since I stood in front of the mirror and glared at
my middle, willing it to show signs of the life growing within.
“Are you sure about that?” Sinclair arches a brow. “This feels like a baby bump to me.”
I promptly push up onto my elbows so that I can look down at my stomach, even though sitting up puts my neck dangerously
close to Sinclair’s mouth again. I can almost feel him thinking about stealing more kisses while I’m distracted. Ever since we
admitted that we’re attracted to each other, he’s been more forward about showing me affection, which only makes it more

difficult to resist my feelings. If only I didn’t enjoy his touch so much, maybe then I could be more forceful about rebuffing his
advances.
His oversized hand is sprawled over my tummy, keeping my shirt bunched up beneath my breasts. It’s hard to see anything with
his palm in the way, so he traces the outline of my womb with a featherlight touch. Sure enough I’m surprised to see the smallest
of swellings just north of my pelvis. I suppose part of shifters’ short gestation is seeing these changes much sooner than
expected, but that scares me too. What if my body doesn’t have enough time to adjust, to go through all the changes human
mothers spend nine months manifesting.
I think Sinclair can sense my unease, because the next thing I know he’s kissing my belly – once, twice, three times.
“I said no kisses.” I scold him, earning myself a low rumble in Sinclair’s chest, and his green eyes flashing at my challenge.
“I’m kissing the baby.” He insists, a devious, wolfish grin on his face. “He likes it.”
“Oh sure.” I reply tartly, “blame it on the baby.”
“He does.” Sinclair repeats, kissing me again before slyly adding, “But then he likes it because it makes you happy.”
“You’re incorrigible.” I roll my eyes, but I’m blushing too. And more than that, I’m amazed to think the tiny life growing inside me
knows what I’m feeling this way. It didn’t seem strange when the doctors told me he could sense my stress, but I suppose I
attributed that to him being impacted by the physical symptoms of stress, not truly feeling my emotions. My heart both swells and
tightens in my chest as I contemplate this idea, that we have a bond every bit as strong as Sinclair’s, I just can’t feel it.
Suddenly I’m crying, and Sinclair stops his teasing and crawls back up my body, clucking sympathetically. “What is it
sweetheart?”
“Nothing, I’m just being silly.” I hiccup, shaking my head. “It’s hormones, that’s all.”
“Why don’t you tell me, and then we can decide together if it’s silly.” He replies, brushing the pads of his thumbs over my cheeks,
caressing the tears away.
“I just wish I had a connection to him like you do.” I confess. “I wish I could sense what he’s feeling. I want you to be close with
him, of course. I’m just... jealous, I suppose. You’ll always be the better parent, you’ll always know what he needs without
asking, and I’ll be bumbling around blind in comparison.”

“That’s not silly at all.” Sinclair assures me. “It’s only natural that you should feel that way. But you’re wrong about something,
Ella. You’ll have a bond with the baby every bit as strong as mine by the time you bring him into the world. Mothers have
connections to their babies most fathers – even shifter fathers – can never have, because we don’t carry and deliver them. We
can’t nourish them with our own bodies, we’re not the ones who sheltered and protected them in the first and most vulnerable
months of their existence.”
“You promise it will be as strong as yours?” I ask, sniffling.
“I think you’re focusing on the idea of a bond too much.” Sinclair muses. “You have to remember that a connection isn’t the same
as a relationship, Ella. All parents are bonded with their children, but some still have terrible relationships, just like everyone is
bonded to their lover, but some couples are much happier than others.”
“I think it’s difficult because it’s just such an abstract idea.” I share, already feeling less blue. “I mean, you tell me something is
magic and I’m automatically going to assume it’s more powerful than natural things.”
“But magic is part of nature.” Sinclair corrects me. “The Goddess created all of it at the same time. The difference is simply that
you didn’t know about it.”
“Right.” I nod slowly, telling myself to keep this reminder at the forefront of my thoughts.
“Better?” Sinclair prompts, stroking my hair.
“Yes, thank you for making me talk about it.” I profess, feeling a strong urge to hug the big Alpha.
“Always.” He agrees, “Now get ready, we have some moon bathing to do.”
My eyes go wide. “Wait, I spoke too soon, I’m not better at all, I think I need to stay home and process this.”
Sinclair chuckles, “nice try, trouble. We leave in half an hour.” He leans down and kisses the tip of my nose before sliding from
the bed, leaving me with a low purr. “And I, for one, can’t wait.”