Sinclair shook his head almost instantly. Ella's suggestion was intriguing, but doomed to fail. "That's not how it works," he said coolly. "We aren't mates. My kind only gets one, and everyone knows I found mine years ago."

"But you're divorced," Ella replied, her voice tremulous and hesitant, as if afraid to broach the subject. Her research had clearly consumed her. He was about to rebuke her when his wolf roared in his mind: Enough! Stop this. You know she's right—it's better for everyone.

Sinclair was taken aback. His wolf rarely disagreed; they were always on the same page. The pup is most important; it needs its mother, his wolf continued. Besides, she's not asking for anything. If she were a gold-digger like Lydia, she'd be eager to move in with you.

I don't know, Sinclair thought. It's worth looking at Ella's background again, but—

No buts! his wolf interrupted. Give her what she wants.

"Why are you so insistent?" Sinclair demanded, surprised by his inner canine's vehemence.

We can't hurt Ella. She'll suffer if we take the pup away, his wolf proclaimed fiercely.

Sinclair admitted he didn't want to cause the lovely human pain, but he still distrusted her. His wolf, however, was adamant, and all shifters knew better than to question their animal instincts. Intuition didn't lie—not regarding the supernatural.

"Fine," he grumbled. "But only if you help with my campaign. It won't be easy. There's more to being a Luna than standing on my arm and looking pretty."

Ella's face lit up so brightly Sinclair had to suppress a smile. His wolf, however, actually wagged its tail like an excited puppy. What the hell is going on with me? he thought, more to himself than his wolf, who was clearly losing his mind.

"What's a Luna?" Ella asked curiously, barely concealing her joy while remaining engaged in the conversation.

"It's an Alpha's mate," Sinclair explained, realizing the extensive education ahead. "And for the record, this arrangement lasts only until I meet a she-wolf who might fill the role for real."

"But you just said werewolves only get one mate," Ella questioned, confused.

"We only get one fated mate. Chosen mates are different. We can choose as many as we like, but the Goddess only grants one fated love," Sinclair informed her. "The bond is different."

"Different, as in weaker?" Ella clarified.

"No—just different," Sinclair corrected. "Not all fated mates are a good fit, and some chosen couples are much happier."

"So if you find another mate, I won't be allowed to see the baby anymore?" Ella asked, gnawing on her lip.

"We can discuss that if and when it happens," Sinclair stated. "But this agreement lasts only as long as it works. If we can't get along well enough to convince people, or if I learn this is another one of your tricks—" Ella's eyes flared, but Sinclair pressed on. "—the deal is off."

Though Ella's cheeks flushed bright pink, she squared her shoulders, preparing for a challenge. "Fine. Have your people draw up the contracts."

"I will," Sinclair agreed, "as soon as you pack your bags."

Ella glared, and though his wolf was preoccupied with her adorable grumpiness, Sinclair couldn't help but take her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her face up. "And Ella—the first rule of being a shifter? The Alpha makes the rules."

Sinclair watched as his words sank in. Ella's eyes narrowed; she was squirming with defiance. He had to give her credit; for someone who'd just learned about werewolves, she certainly wasn't afraid of him. In fact, she showed more bravery than many grown wolves facing an Alpha. Of course, there were Alphas, and then there was Sinclair—strong enough to subdue even the most dominant pack leaders. Perhaps Ella simply didn't realize how dangerous he was.

After a moment, Ella looked up from beneath her lashes. "Yes, sir," she ground out, clearly hating submission.

"I like the sound of that," he praised, dragging his thumb across her lip. "But if we're going to pull this off, you should call me Dominic."

A shiver ran down Ella's spine, and Sinclair's wolf purred. Her amber eyes were so wide he could see every shade of gold. Her lashes fluttered as he stared, and eventually she murmured, "Yes, Dominic."

When Ella arrived at Dominic Sinclair's mansion, she was overwhelmed with confusion. She'd begun the negotiation feeling in control, but he'd completely turned the tables. She wasn't sure when or how, but the bossy werewolf had somehow gotten the better of her. It had felt as if he held some strange power over her, as if hypnotized by his dark gaze. Her mind raced, but the moment she stepped into the bedroom Sinclair had prepared, it went blank. It was the same room from that afternoon, but everything was different.

The beautiful space was filled with candles and music, the air scented with essential oils. Ella felt as if she'd walked into a spa; servants were running a hot bath in the massive whirlpool tub, awaiting her arrival. Ella could barely take in the finery and amenities Sinclair had provided, including a craft table and a miniature fridge stocked with drinks and snacks. A massage table stood along the far wall. "You did all this for me?" Ella gaped, staring at Sinclair's handsome face in disbelief.

He blinked, seemingly unfazed by her surprise. "Pups are more important than anything."

Of course, Ella thought bitterly. It's not for me, it's for the pup.

"Here," Sinclair offered a small golden bell. "Ring this whenever you need anything."

Ella shook her head, trying to refuse. "I don't feel comfortable being waited on by servants."

"It's not for the servants," Sinclair informed her, guiding her hand to the bell. "It's for me. If you need me, ring it."

Ella recoiled. "But couldn't I just find you? Am I not allowed to leave this room?"

Sinclair rolled his eyes. "Of course you can. I'm just trying to make things easy—you should be as relaxed as possible for the next six months."

"Six months?" Ella repeated, sensing something amiss. "Should I be stressed after that?"

"I think that's unavoidable. Since you'll have a new baby," Sinclair quipped, noticing her confusion. "Shifter pregnancies are shorter than humans', around six months—that's why the baby was so large at your ultrasound."

"Oh." Ella was still processing this when Sinclair excused himself for a call. Six months? she thought fearfully. That doesn't give me nearly enough time to prepare.

Needing fresh air, Ella opened the window, inhaling deeply. The brisk winter air felt good, even if it unleashed a torrent of sound. In the yard below, men—or wolves, she supposed—were sparring on a snow-covered lawn. They clashed violently, shouting, growling, and laughing. The tumult was so uproarious Ella was tempted to close the window, but she didn't want to lose the fresh air.

Ella eyed the bell, curious to see if it would summon Sinclair—even during a call. With a mischievous smile, she rang it. Within thirty seconds, Sinclair stood before her, amused, as if knowing her intent. "You rang?"

"Would it be possible for them to that," Ella gestured at the commotion, "somewhere else? It's very loud."

Without hesitation, Sinclair leaned out the window and ordered the sentries to relocate, forbidding further training outside that window. Ella watched in amazement as they immediately obeyed. What must it be like to be so powerful? It struck her that Sinclair was the most powerful person in any room, yet he deferred to her, doing as she asked.

"Thank you," Ella murmured.

"You're welcome," Sinclair answered, fighting a smile. The more time he spent with Ella, the more endearing he found the little human. It made him question everything he'd thought in the last few days. He'd already ordered a second investigation into her background and could barely bear waiting two days for the results. He'd have to keep his distance until then—until he knew whether he could trust her, once and for all.

Two days, he thought impatiently. That's nothing; you can easily stay away that long right?