Sinclair

I think my wolf is broken. Legitimately. I can't figure out what's going on with him. Last night, the threat against Ella made my heart practically leap out of my chest—that's to be expected. What wasn't expected was how upset my wolf became when he realized Ella had washed my scent off. Despite what I told her, it had nothing to do with protecting our cover; it was entirely his tantrum over her removing his scent marking.

Being naked with her was a blessing and a curse. I could happily admire her beautiful body all day, but the intimate physical contact was intensely exciting. My arousal was extreme by the time my wolf was satisfied; the only way I could calm down was by listening to the baby's heartbeat. It was an important reminder to be gentle with Ella and gave me more joy than I can express.

My mental link with the pup is fleeting; most of the time, I only hear blips of emotion. The baby is happy when it hears Ella's voice or smells me; it likes it best when we're together, and mostly it sleeps. Still, simply being near it has given me a new appreciation for my own father. I never knew it was possible to love someone I've yet to meet so much, and the power of the bond astonishes me. Moreover, I want Dad to meet Ella—he's had a rough few years, and I can't think of anything that would make him happier than meeting the woman carrying his first grandchild.

Ella looks nervous as the car moves through heavy midday traffic. I haven't told her who I'm taking her to meet, and I get the impression she doesn't like surprises. She's a fascinating puzzle, this little human: clearly accustomed to great hardship yet obviously used to getting her own way. I suppose after such a turbulent life, control is a crutch for her, so much so that she panics when she loses it. Is it terrible that I enjoy throwing her off balance so much, knowing what I do about her past? She's just so cute when she gets riled up—I can't help myself.

When the car stops, Ella blinks hopefully. "Will you tell me now?"

"Come on, trouble," I chuckle, sliding out and extending my hand. "You'll find out soon enough."

Ella grumbles mutinously as she starts down the street. I catch her waist, pulling her under my arm. "Would you like to say that a bit louder?" I intone ominously.

"No," she responds tartly. "I would not."

"You know I have supernatural hearing, right?" I ask, watching her eyes widen anxiously.

She processes this, then narrows her eyes suspiciously. "Could you really hear me?"

"Not this time," I admit. "You did a good job mumbling."

"Then I'll do a good job in the future, too," Ella decides, nodding in approval.

I'm reluctant to laugh and encourage her defiance, but I can't help the quirk of my lips. I steer her into the house, pushing through the heavy door without knocking. As we stride inside, I'm transported back to my childhood, remembering walking these same halls as a young boy. It's not as luxurious as my current estate, but it's undeniably home.

"Whose house is this?" Ella asks, surveying the rooms curiously.

"This is where I grew up," I finally say, nodding towards the photos on the wall. Ella is so preoccupied studying the images that she doesn't seem to notice my father wheeling into the hall in his high-tech wheelchair. Either she's truly engrossed, or human hearing is worse than I realize, because she doesn't turn until I speak.

"Dad, this is Ella," I nudge her forward. "Ella, this is my father."

Ella blinks, seemingly speechless. This was clearly unexpected. My father was once a terrifying man—every bit as tall and imposing as I am. Now, however, he's a shadow of his former self. He was paralyzed from the waist down over five years ago, and though the injury stole his title, vitality, and mobility, he's never let it dampen his spirit. In intelligence and will, he's as strong as ever, and I still learn from him every time we talk.

"I hoped he would bring you to meet me soon," Dad tells Ella. "I'm so thrilled you found each other. I've been waiting for a grandchild for some time now."

"It's an honor to meet you," Ella replies. "I'm happy too. I think we've all been waiting."

"You can say that again," I chime in.

"Please, come in. I want to hear everything about my new daughter-in-law," Dad encourages, wheeling into the living room. Ella, however, is frozen. At first, I thought his allusion to our fake union might have blindsided her, but the more I watch, the more I suspect she's daunted by sharing her story with him. Even though I know all the major moments in her life from my investigators, I realize Ella has never spoken about them herself. The more I think about it, the more I appreciate how little she speaks about her past.

I'm almost disappointed in my own powers of observation. She's so charming and affectionate, it's easy to mistake her genial qualities for openness—but she isn't open, not really.

Ella actually sighs with relief when her phone rings, though she looks up to me for permission before answering. "It's okay, go ahead," I say. "I need to talk to my Dad anyway."

She nods and answers, "Cora?"

I hear Cora's voice and stride after my father to avoid eavesdropping. I did want to introduce Ella to Dad—to connect these new members of my family with the man who raised me—but I also need to speak to my father after last night.

"Ella's taking a call from her sister," I explain upon entering the room, taking a seat. "And as eager as I am to catch up, I need to talk about something and don't want her to overhear."

My father was Alpha for almost twenty years before the attack, and he understands the need for discretion better than anyone. No one understands the drive to protect loved ones from unseen threats better than a pack leader. "Go ahead."

"We went to a campaign event last night at the King's palace—it was Ella's public debut," I recount. "But when we came home, there was a strange wolf in her room. They were gone by the time I reached her, and I said it was her imagination, but I'm afraid whoever was there wanted to hurt her."

"She has no idea?" My father clarifies.

"I didn't want to frighten her. The baby is still so little—she doesn't need the stress," I share, even as guilt assails me. "Do you think the King or the Prince might have been behind it?"

"You know as well as I do that the King will go to any lengths to hold onto his power," my father rumbles, nodding to his legs.

We've never been able to prove it, but the timing of my father's injury was always suspicious. Rogues attacked him after an event during his campaign to be king five years ago, after the last king died without an heir. His primary competitor became king and probably expected to rule much longer than he did. I consider it karma: if you sabotage your competition to seize power, it shouldn't be surprising when the Alpha Council loses faith in you.

"The King and Prince never paid any attention to me before, though," I remind him. "Do you think my perceived sterility kept them at bay? Is having a pup on the way really all it took for them to finally see me as a threat?"

"You know the history as well as I do," my father murmurs. "They never believed the Alpha Council would elect another ruler without heirs, even if you were the most qualified candidate. Ella changes everything. Your pup changes everything."

"Then why not attack me?" I growl, hating the idea that finally getting a family could bring about the end of my career. "Why target Ella?"

My father rolls his eyes. "Come on, Dominic. Whether they admit it or not, you're the strongest Alpha to enter the field of competition in half a century—stronger even than me," he concedes with a smile. "Going after you would be suicidal—but a breeding she-wolf? She's the perfect target." He shakes his head. "And if you don't have heirs, you might as well give up the throne now."

"That isn't fair," I snarl. "Ella is innocent—and the pup…" I trail off, unable to comprehend anyone hurting an unborn child.

"I know," my father sighs. "But this cannot be ignored. If we're right, Ella and the pup are in grave danger."