Accidental Surrogate for Alpha
Chapter 216 – Silent Treatment
As soon as Sinclair left Roger and Cora alone, the human turned toward the door, determined to flee. They had talked about the mating ceremony for over an hour, but as soon as they finished making their plans, Cora bolted.
Before her hand touched the doorknob, however, Roger's voice stopped her. "Oh, so you're back to ignoring me, are you?"
Cora stiffened, turning to the newly minted Beta. "I sympathized with you when your brother was dead, but now that we know Dominic is alive, I see no reason to pretend." She shrugged, trying to push away the memory of the huge wolf's arms around her. Of course, this was easier said than done—her mind drifted back to that emotional night, and she couldn't forget her racing heart when he touched her.
Roger's tears gradually subsided as Cora held him, breathing in her delicate scent and letting her gentle touch soothe his raging wolf. Soon, his breathing was low and steady, and Cora's soothing murmurs fell quiet. It shouldn't have been so electrifying—to hold a grieving man like this. But as the worst of the storm passed, the embrace felt more intimate, and Cora became acutely aware of Roger's powerful body pressed against hers. She could scarcely breathe.
She felt his hands burning through her clothes, and his warm breath on her neck sent butterflies fluttering in her stomach. Goosebumps rose on her arms as he emitted a soft rumble of appreciation, and Cora wondered why her mouth suddenly felt so dry. Even though the big wolf had been vicious and unhinged moments before, Cora felt safe and content in his arms, and, more alarmingly, she didn't want him to let go.
That was the last straw. As a doctor, Cora was used to touching people constantly, and during the refugee crisis, she had done more than her share of hand-holding. But no one had ever blurred the lines of personal and professional like this, evoking deep emotions she shouldn't be feeling—especially not for a man who infuriated her as much as Roger.
Cora pulled away too abruptly, attempting to cover her actions with a hasty cough. "You'd better let me take a look at your feet," she suggested, glancing at the debris-strewn floor. Wolf's blood mingled with glass and splintered wood, and Cora wasn't sure how to cross the wreckage, but Roger lifted her into his arms and carried her through the worst of it, ignoring her protests.
"What are you doing?!" she exclaimed, wriggling in his strong grip.
"My feet can't get any more beat up than they already are—yours can," he explained, pulling her closer.
"I'm wearing shoes!" Cora countered, rolling her eyes.
"Well, you can never be too careful," Roger replied easily, though she thought she saw the corner of his mouth twitch. He carried her into the bathroom and reluctantly set her down, but he didn't release her immediately. Instead, he leaned her against him, as if worried she might fall.
Cora pulled away, increasingly flustered. "Have a seat," she instructed, searching through the cabinets and extracting first-aid supplies. Roger sat on the edge of the tub and patiently waited. Had she dared to look at him, Cora would have seen the hungry way he followed her with his dark eyes, or noticed the smirk twisting his lips as he listened to her pounding heart and racing pulse.
Trying to steady her shaking hands, Cora sprayed warm water over the wolf's torn feet, wincing at the glass shards embedded in his soles.
"How were you even standing?" she inquired.
"It helps that I'm very drunk," Roger answered, his eyes locked on her face. He found it difficult to control himself with the beautiful human, especially given her courageous defiance. He knew it couldn't have been easy for her, and though part of him was proud, her skittishness was thoroughly provoking his wolf's predatory instincts.
Cora's knees were weak, but the familiar motions of her work helped keep her steady. She methodically removed the glass from Roger's feet with sharp tweezers, then cleaned and bandaged the wounds with precision. "There," she said, wiping sweat from her brow, despite the cool temperature. "You should stay off those for the rest of the night."
"But how will I get to my bed?" Roger inquired, arching a brow. Cora didn't like the sultry note in his deep voice, and she glanced toward the bedroom. "I think you'll find your bed is in pieces. I think maybe you should sleep in the tub."
She rose, cleaning up her supplies, and Roger's heart sank. He didn't want her to leave, partly because he enjoyed her company, but also because he didn't want to be alone. He closed his eyes, not wanting to remember the pain that had driven him to wreak so much havoc. "I'm sorry for the way I behaved earlier," he said, catching Cora's hand before she could escape.
Cora frowned down at him. "I've seen worse," she answered honestly. "But I think perhaps you shouldn't be alone tonight."
"Is that an invitation?" Roger asked hopefully.
"My medical opinion," Cora corrected. "The same I would give anyone in your state."
"Everyone I care about is in the same condition—or thereabouts," Roger lamented, feeling sorry for himself. "They shouldn't have to deal with me on top of everything else."
Cora studied him. They were in an opulent palace with dozens of servants and guards. Finding someone to stay with the wolf wouldn't be difficult—even arranging a new room would be simple. So why was she so tempted to offer her own company? Why didn't she want to leave him? Why was she so tempted to feel his touch again? "I could stay with you," she blurted, before she could reconsider. "If you like."
Roger blinked, surprised and pleased. "Really?"
"As long as you behave yourself and don't get any wise ideas," Cora answered, lifting her chin.
"I think we have plenty of proof that wise ideas aren't my forte," Roger replied, gesturing to the demolished suite.
"You can say that again," Cora snorted, surveying the damage. "But I'll be damned if I'm going to spend the night in this death trap. I'll ring downstairs to borrow a wheelchair, and then you can come to my room."
"Thank you, Cora," Roger squeezed her hand, but Cora pulled away, crossing her arms. "You don't know what this means to me."
Cora's cold expression softened, a flash of genuine empathy showing. Still, she didn't let her guard down. "I mean it, Roger. No funny business." She stalked away before he could reply, giving him a delightful view of her retreating backside.
"Ah, so that was just pity, was it?" Roger asked, bringing her back to the present.
"That and my oath as a doctor," she shrugged. "I couldn't exactly leave you bleeding and practically suicidal."
"U-huh, and I suppose you treat all your patients this way?" Roger pressed, closing the distance. He towered over her, and the delectable scent she'd come to love was spiked with adrenaline. "And let them sleep in your bed even though you insisted they stay on the couch?"
"Only the ones who are giant crybabies like you," Cora retorted, hands on her hips.
"Come on, admit it, Cora," Roger purred, stroking a lock of hair from her face. "You're warming up to me."
"Don't be ridiculous," she insisted. "I showed you compassion in a time of need. That doesn't mean I've forgotten your past crimes."
"You're the only one who hasn't," Roger reminded her, moving closer. "I'm not saying I deserve it, I just find it curious that you can't move past things that your sister and my brother have forgiven. After all, they were the targets, not you."
"All that means is that I hold a higher standard for my sister than she would for herself," Cora argued, backing away until her shoulder blades hit the door. She froze, nervously licking her lips as Roger continued to advance.
"I have a different theory," Roger said, placing his hands on either side of Cora's head. "Would you like to hear it?"
Cora shook her head, speechless.
"You like me," Roger declared, enjoying the surprise and anticipation in her eyes. "You don't want to, but you can't help it. But instead of dealing with that fact, you've turned me into a monster."
Anger and fear warred in Cora, even as heat pooled in her stomach. "I have news for you," she hissed, fire blazing in her veins. "I didn't have to turn you into anything. You helped Damon start this war. You targeted my sweet, innocent, pregnant sister because you couldn't handle coming second to your brother. You're trying to rewrite yourself as deep and complicated and tortured, but all you truly are is a little boy with a fragile ego and major mommy issues." Cora pushed his shoulder, and Roger stepped back, wary. "If I'd known you were going to twist things this way, I never would have shown you the ounce of humanity I did. But let me be clear, I won't be making that mistake again."
Without another word, Cora turned and stormed out. Roger listened to her retreating footsteps, and though she didn't know it, the sound stayed with him for the rest of the day and well into the night.
Chapter 212 – Tattletales
"Four broken ribs," the doctor assessed grimly. "And with all the exercise you've done since the initial break, they haven't been able to set or heal. I have an injection I can give you to fuse the bones quickly, but it's painful, and we still need to set them first."
"What about his other injuries?" Henry inquired anxiously, sitting beside Ella.
"I'll do a scan to assess the exact placement of his ribs, and I can extend it to the rest of his abdomen to rule out internal injuries. I don't see anything else of concern," the doctor replied with more optimism.
"He's got a good-sized lump on the back of his head," Ella informed the physician, running her hands through Sinclair's hair.
"Then you two will match," Philippe interjected, reminding them of how Ella headbutted his chin trying to reach Sinclair. "When you're done with him, you ought to check her for a concussion."
"I hardly think that's necessary," Ella complained, checking the back of her head and wincing at the swollen knot.
"It is," five dominant voices asserted, the loudest from her lap. Ella sent Roger, Henry, Philippe, and Gabriel mutinous glances.
"I was already planning on examining her," the doctor said, unbelievably looking at Sinclair instead of Ella. "From the sounds of it, she's been much too active following her collapse."
"What collapse?" Sinclair demanded fiercely, his eyes pinning Ella with suspicion. Ella turned her indignant gaze to the doctor, but her mate caught her chin, redirecting her attention. "Don't blame them for telling me what you should have told me yourself."
"And when should I have done that?" Ella argued, feeling overwhelmed. She couldn't believe they were ganging up on her when Sinclair was injured and needed their attention most. "You've been back ten minutes, and you're in much worse shape than I am. Rafe and I are fine; you're the one we need to worry about."
"What happened, little wolf?" he asked gently, sensing her distress. Taking a deep breath, Ella rushed through the explanation, hoping he wouldn't catch all the details. "It wasn't a big deal. My blood pressure spiked when Gabriel's drones found the wreckage from the bomb; that's all. I passed out, and they sedated me. I slept for three whole days, so I'm much better rested and healthier than you are."
Sinclair's pupils constricted, and his irate gaze swung to the King. "You let her watch you search for the wreckage?"
Gabriel shifted uneasily. "Well, we didn't know what we would find. Besides, Ella is the only reason we knew something had happened."
"And did none of you consider the possibility that you would find us dead?" He sat up, power radiating from him. "It was sickening for me to see that scene, and I've been in battle. What the hell were you thinking?" A flash of Sinclair's gut-wrenching horror upon waking from the bomb blast slipped through their bond, and Ella's wolf whimpered.
"Dominic, it's okay, come back to me," she encouraged, guiding his shoulders down. He obeyed, but likely only to soothe her wolf.
"It's not okay," Sinclair said, his voice gravelly. He cupped her cheek. "I'm sorry you had to see that."
"It might have upset me, but it wasn't enough to convince me you were gone," Ella reminded him, kissing his lips. "My faith in our bond kept me from believing the worst."
"So much so that she didn't eat, bathe, or sleep again after she woke up," Philippe offered, arms crossed. "She just kept trying to escape."
Ella's attention snapped to Sinclair, truly outraged now. "Would you stop this?!" she exclaimed, feeling she might scream. She was so sick of her overbearing babysitters. She didn't care that they were tattling; she cared that they might upset her mate, who was already hurt and grieving. "Do you have any idea what he's been through! He doesn't need to be worrying about me right now. What is wrong with you all?!"
A tender purr vibrated in her lap, and she felt Sinclair's wolf reaching out to hers. "Don't be mad at them, baby," Sinclair murmured, massaging her tense muscles. "I know you don't like seeing me hurt, but they're telling me exactly what I need to know—what I want to know."
Ella shook her head defiantly. "No, you need to come first this time," she replied thickly. "You almost died… you lost Hugo and your men."
"And if I had died, they would have been doing exactly what I wished—taking care of you and Rafe when I couldn't," Sinclair crooned.
"What, by being intrusive, overbearing bullies?" Ella sniffed, hating the suggestion of him being gone.
"Is that so different from me?" Sinclair asked with a crooked smile.
"Of course it is—because you're my mate," Ella replied fervently. "You only do it because you love me."
"Well, why the hell do you think it's different with us, Ella?" Philippe grumbled, pulling her attention away from her mate.
"Because Dominic would disembowel you if you let anything happen to me," Ella answered easily, her wolf thrilled at the thought of her mate's prowess.
Roger rolled his eyes sarcastically. "Guess again, genius."
Gabriel cleared his throat diplomatically. "I think what Roger means is—why would we have to fear that if Dominic was dead? If that's the only reason we were doing it, why did we continue when we thought he was gone?"
Ella looked between them, slowly piecing together the clues. When the realization struck, she turned to Sinclair for confirmation. Did they mean what she thought they meant? She knew Henry was fond of her, but…
"Of course they love you, Ella," he said, assuaging her doubts and making her feel guilty.
"We've been trying to take care of you because we would be heartbroken if anything happened to you," Henry contributed. "And that's why we're telling Dominic what's been going on—because we want what's best for you, and he's the only one to whom you'll truly respond."
"That and you won't tell him yourself," Roger muttered, but with humor in his voice.
"Roger," Henry snapped, scowling at the wolf before squeezing Ella's hand. "I'm sorry we didn't listen to you, Ella. But I'm not sorry for the rest. We were doing the best with the information we had. But never doubt that we acted from a place of love."
Ella's lower lip quivered, and she stared at the men apologetically. "I didn't realize… I'm sorry," she said, fighting back tears. She vowed not to cry again for a year after the baby came, but the tears flowed anyway. "I mean, not for disobeying you or smashing you in the jaw," she told Philippe, who chuckled. "But for misunderstanding… I assumed the worst, and that wasn't fair to you." She continued, "I love you all too."
One by one, the alphas returned the sentiment, and Sinclair sent her a rush of affection. "Poor little mate, dealing with all these big mean wolves all on your own. It's no wonder you're in such a state." Ella saw Roger, Gabriel, and Philippe making exasperated faces, but she didn't care.
"It's okay," she told Sinclair conspiratorially, grinning. "I still got the better of them."
"That's my girl," Sinclair praised, kissing her. It was soft and tender, and with his pride and amusement came a rush of delicious dominance. "Just as long as you remember that you won't be getting the better of me—even if I am weak and injured."
Her wolf shuddered happily, and she kissed him again. "I still look forward to trying."
His wolf gleamed in his green eyes. "And I look forward to catching you."