I must have misheard him. He can’t truly mean he wants me to move into his rooms. Does he really think I’m that much of a baby, needing constant watching?

“But it was only one dream,” I protested, my voice still shaky. “I swear it’s not a big deal.”

Sinclair purred again, and I felt my insides melting against my will. “Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. I just want you to sleep easily.” Before I could stop him, he lifted me into his arms.

“Sinclair—” He interrupted me with a growl, and I quickly amended myself. “Dominic, this really isn’t necessary. I can sleep on my own.”

“I’m sure you can,” he conceded. “But I want you close.”

“And what about what I want?” The words slipped out before I could stop them, and Sinclair paused, looking down at me with an appraising gaze.

“And what do you want, Ella?” he asked huskily, his deep voice reverberating down my spine.

I opened my mouth to tell him I wanted to be alone, in my own space, and without his intimidating presence. However, I couldn’t make the words come. Why couldn’t I seem to stop myself from speaking when I didn’t want to, then couldn’t make myself talk when I did? What was this man doing to me?

Sinclair smirked. “You know the problem, don’t you?” he taunted. I could only shake my head in reply. “You can’t lie to me. The pup is making you more and more like a wolf, and wolves can’t lie to their Alpha, not directly, at least.”

The breath seemed to evaporate from my lungs. I couldn’t lie to him? My eyes widened as I realized the implications, and I wanted to protest that such a thing wasn’t fair—people are entitled to their secrets!

“But you’re not my Alpha,” I finally protested, my voice sounding very small.

Sinclair cocked a brow. “Aren’t I?” After a beat, he continued toward the door, as if this settled the matter. I didn’t know why I didn’t object further—maybe because he’d clearly made up his mind, maybe because I didn’t really want him to change it. I let him carry me out into the hall, flushing scarlet when I saw so many guards waiting outside my room. Had all these men heard me screaming like a baby? Surely I hadn’t spoken while unconscious?

“Do you always have this many guards posted at night?” I squeaked.

“This pup is the most important thing to me in the world,” Sinclair responded simply. “You can expect lots of guards to be around from now on.”

Of course, I thought. It’s all for the pup. I’m just an afterthought. Will I ever be anything more?

I didn’t need to ask Sinclair to know the answer—it was already painfully obvious: no. In a world of mystically powerful beings like wolves, a human like me could never be anything but an afterthought. The only reason he was putting up with me was the pregnancy. And honestly, the only reason I was putting up with him was our arrangement… so why did it hurt so much?

The next morning, I woke to find a maid setting down a room service tray by my bedside, stacked high with my favorite foods. At first, the smell of fruit and oatmeal had my stomach growling, but before I could so much as raise a spoon to my lips, a wave of nausea overtook me. I rushed to the bathroom and retched, groaning pitifully.

When I finally finished with the joys of pregnancy, I returned to Sinclair’s sprawling king-sized bed. The food, which had looked so appetizing a moment ago, now made my stomach churn. However, I noticed a folded note on the tray. My name was scrawled across the front in the swooping handwriting I now recognized as Sinclair’s.

Ella,

I’ve arranged an interview for you this morning, with the leading news outlets in the area. We’ve been getting a lot of requests, and the reporter promised you would only have to answer questions I approved. Call me if you have any questions. I’ll see you tonight.

Yours,

Dominic

An interview?! I’d never given an interview in my life! And this wouldn’t even be an interview as myself; this would be an undercover interview, pretending to be a completely different person, a completely different species! What kind of questions were they going to ask? What on earth was I going to say to them? What was I going to wear?

Two hours later, I was seated in front of an intimidating man in a sharp-looking suit, feeling very small and out of place. A camera was poised on my face, and I was trying to look serene—rather than panicked. I found a pretty sweater dress in the wardrobe Sinclair had procured for me and decided that simple elegance was the best approach. Now I wondered if I’d miscalculated. The reporter was watching me with sharp eyes, and I could already feel myself blushing.

“So, Ella, it will come as no surprise to you that many shifters in the Moon Valley Pack and beyond are very curious about you,” he began obliquely. “With you by his side, the Alpha is poised to become our next King, yet no one knows anything about you.”

“I can understand how that might worry some pack members,” I smiled gently, trying to appear confident and self-assured.

“How did you and Dominic meet?” he pressed. “When did it happen? I’d love to hear the whole story.”

Sinclair and I had discussed this at length, even before this interview arose. “Well, it will be obvious to all those in the know that we aren’t fated, but I can’t help thinking that the Goddess didn’t play a hand in our meeting. For years, my family in the Shadow Pack insisted we had no other relations—apparently my parents cut ties with the Moon Valley before I was even born. It wasn’t until they passed away that I learned about my cousins here—including Aileen Corentin.”

We’d decided the story should be as close to the truth as possible, so my fake identity was an orphan, just like I am in reality. “I came to visit her after making contact, and of course, she’s the wife of Beta Hugo. One day, I was having lunch with Aileen and Hugo, and Dominic walked in… and the rest is history.”

“But you haven’t known each other very long, is that correct?” the reporter inquired.

“Yes,” I confirmed. “But when it’s true love, it doesn’t take long for the heart to recognize its mate. And then we were blessed with a pup without even trying.”

“Some pack members might be worried that you come from such a humble background; you have no experience leading,” the reporter stated bluntly. “How would you respond to their fears?”

This was a question Sinclair hadn’t prepared me for in our earlier discussions regarding our cover. We’d decided what we would tell people about how we met, nothing more. “I would say that great leaders come from all kinds of backgrounds, and in fact, my humble origins give me insight into the needs of everyday shifters in a way that an aristocratic upbringing would not. I’m in touch with what regular people want and need, and I can speak for them with empathy and understanding, representing their voices in a forum where they’re often left out.”

The reporter arched his brows, and I knew I’d impressed him. Take that! I thought triumphantly. People always assumed I didn’t have a brain in my head because I’m young and attractive, not to mention I chose to work caring for children. But I’m no fool, and hopefully, this will help the shifters see that.

“And what do you think our society needs most at this time in history? What is the biggest issue the future King and Queen need to address?” he asked.

I navigated his questions with more or less difficulty for the next half hour, feeling better about some responses than others, and praying that I hadn’t put my foot in my mouth. I thought I’d done well, but I was completely exhausted. At first, part of me was excited to pretend to be someone other than myself—almost like playing dress-up or make-believe. However, that initial interest disappeared very quickly when I realized just how stressful it is to constantly be acting.

I know what it’s like to put up walls around myself, but this was the first time I’d ever been forced to blatantly lie to those around me, to try to pass myself off as someone else. All at once, the gravity of this deal I’d struck slammed into me. If I was exhausted now, how was I going to feel when I’d been doing this for months? Years? Could I really do this for the rest of my life? What would happen if the truth came out? What would people do when they learned I was a fraud?

Because, I realized, that’s what I am. This wasn’t just a game or a play we were performing; I was actively deceiving people. I was campaigning for a public office and lying every step of the way. Guilt and worry assailed me in a tidal wave. This is wrong! I thought frantically. I have to talk to Sinclair.