Chapter 139: Ella's Wolf

Ella

Everything is different the moment I open my eyes. I don't really want to wake up, to face a world without my baby, but my grief is momentarily dimmed by my wolf's elation at finally being free. The temptation to bury my sorrows and let myself be distracted is incredibly alluring, and I throw myself into denial with full force.

I feel as though I've been asleep for days, and maybe I have. But I feel stronger and sharper than ever before. The lights are searingly bright, and the city is still too loud, but it's not excruciating as it was. My body must have acclimated while I rested, becoming used to sensing the world in ultra-high definition. My limbs are delightfully sore, and I revel in the feeling of thick, downy fur covering my body. I flex my fingers and toes, experimenting with my sharp claws and running my tongue over my fangs.

Being a wolf is even better than in my dream, partly because I know it's real, but also because the world seems completely new. It's as if I'm experiencing everything for the first time, and it's impossible not to be excited and thrilled despite the dark cloud hanging over me.

I've been so caught up in my own thoughts that I don't realize I'm not alone until a familiar, rumbling purr sounds beside me, followed by a large tongue swiping over my velvety muzzle. "Good morning, Little Wolf," Sinclair's voice sounds in my mind, making me practically jump out of my skin. He chuckles and nuzzles his nose against mine. "How do you feel?"

I look up at the giant black wolf uncertainly, feeling guilty for my joy when when I can't even think it. If I acknowledge what I've lost, I won't be able to pretend anymore. If I acknowledge it, it becomes real, and I'm not prepared to face my sorrow. A whimper escapes my mouth, and understanding washes over Sinclair's canine features.

"Listen, baby, how many heartbeats do you hear?"

His question is more complicated than it should be, because I feel like I can hear every heart beating in the mansion. Still, I focus on this room, not yet realizing why he instructed me to do so. The gentle pulse of my own heart reaches my furry ears a fraction of a second before the steady pounding of Sinclair's and there, softer and tinier than both, is a precious thump in my womb.

"Rafe?" I think in amazement, certain I must be dreaming. I twist my body to press my nose to my belly, and I can smell him! Like a blend of Sinclair and myself, with something uniquely his own. I've never smelled anything so wonderful—not even Sinclair, who smells good enough to eat. Tears well up in my eyes, but I'm still unconvinced this is real. Am I hallucinating? Is this some sort of psychosis brought on by the trauma of losing him?

"He's okay," Sinclair's deep bass intrudes on my thoughts, overflowing with happiness. "The doctor was wrong."

"But how?!" I think, unconsciously directing the words at my mate and stunned when I realize he can hear them. I'm not sure how I knew to communicate this way—it was simply second nature. I was so sure how could he have survived?

"The Goddess works in mysterious ways," Sinclair answers with a shrug, searching my face with his glowing green eyes. "Can you feel the bond?"

At first, I'm afraid the answer is no, but then the pup flutters in my tummy, and a wave of contentment and relief radiates through my mind. I'm stunned to realize these emotions aren't my own, but my baby's. He's relieved that I'm happy again, that I'm no longer in pain. I suddenly understand the connection Sinclair described—not cohesive thoughts, but bursts of emotion distinct from my own. Even though we're feeling some of the same things, some are uniquely his. Now that I'm aware of it, it's impossible to miss. "No wonder I was able to distract myself so easily!" I realize belatedly. It wasn't only my own joy; it was Rafe's too.

My eyes widen in ecstatic excitement, and I launch myself at Sinclair, wagging my tail and yipping with excitement. "He's okay, he's okay!" I chant blissfully, momentarily thrown off balance when Rafe sends signals of happiness up to me, responding to my enthusiasm. "I can feel him," I tell Sinclair in awe, stopped in my tracks and on the verge of tears again. "I can feel you, my darling," I add to Rafe, overwhelmed when he pulses with pure love.

Sinclair offers a wolfish grin. "Done celebrating already, trouble?" He teases, then pounces, playfully wrestling and tussling with me until we're rolling around on the bed like carefree puppies. I hear his laughter in my head, just as I'm sure he hears my uproarious giggles as he pins me and tickles my feet with his tail. I nip at his ears when he tries to nuzzle my neck, earning myself great slobbering kisses in reply. Eventually, I jump up, energy flowing through me, accompanied by an irresistible pull to go to the forest. Somehow I know it's night without seeing outside; the moon is calling to me inexplicably.

"Let's go for a run!" I suggest eagerly, my body wiggling with excitement. "Can we? Can we?"

Sinclair gazes lovingly at me as I dance around on the bed. "We can, once you've got some food in your tummy."

"No!" I throw my head back defiantly. "I want to go now."

Sinclair shakes his head and rises, giving me an imperious look as he towers over me. "You haven't eaten in at least 72 hours, and you've been through hell in the meantime."

"It hasn't been that long! The Prince fed me," I argue, thinking he's miscalculating.

"You've been asleep for two days, Ella," Sinclair informs me gently, bumping my nose with his. "It won't kill you to wait; the forest will still be there in an hour." When I still don't look convinced, he adds, "Besides, don't you want to fix the nest so it's ready when we get back?"

For the first time, I look around and realize my shift did quite a bit of damage. My teeth and claws must have lashed out during my transformation, because my beautiful pillows and soft blankets are shredded. I whine with sudden distress—beside myself to know my baby is alright, but I have no safe haven in which to raise him. Sinclair shifts back into human form, and I'm amazed by how different he looks through my wolf eyes. He's always been annoyingly good-looking, but somehow he seems even more handsome. His bronze skin almost glows in the bright lights, and the rugged planes of his face and body seem sharper, more powerful. "It's okay, sweet mate," he murmurs, stroking my cheek. "I'll have the servants bring new pillows and blankets while I fix you something. Are you craving anything in particular?"

I shake my head, too preoccupied with my ruined nest to focus on anything else. In the end, the time passes quickly as I fuss over remaking the space perfectly. Sinclair has to literally drag me away to convince me to eat, and only the promise of a moonlit run convinces me to leave completely.

When we reach the forest, Sinclair shifts again, and I immediately provoke him into a chase. Now that my wolf is awake, his power is starker, more visceral, and I feel it constantly. For some, I suppose it might be frightening, but for me, it's thrilling. It excites and reassures me at once, tempting me endlessly. I want to poke and prod at it, to see if it's really as vast as it seems. It's as if his dominance and authority are a giant red button saying "do not push," and, Goddess help me, all I want to do is push it.

I don't think I've ever been happier—even though the last few days have been a nightmare. I'm finally the person I was always meant to be; I have a mate who loves me, and a baby on the way. I feel incredibly free, and when Sinclair catches me and pins me to the ground with a sexy growl, I only feel more fulfilled.

"It's time to go home, trouble," he commands huskily.

"But I don't want to shift back," I complain, not to challenge him, but because I'm genuinely afraid of the process.

"Why not?" Sinclair inquires, nibbling my nape.

"I'm scared it's going to hurt," I admit.

"No, sweetheart, not this time. From now on, you'll be able to shift in only a few minutes, and the more you do it, the sooner you'll be able to change in a split second. It will hurt a little—but not like before," he explains tenderly.

"I don't know how to do it," I object, making excuses.

"Well, that's too bad," Sinclair replies, giving me a sly look as he feigns nonchalance. "Because I can't claim you until you shift back."

"Claim me?" I respond curiously, my wolf perking up with sensual interest.

"That's right," he confirms, a flash of fire in his sultry gaze. "Unless you no longer want my mark?"

"No!" I correct him, embarrassingly quickly. "I want it."

"Then shift, mate," he orders. "And I'll give it to you."