Chapter 405 – Balance

“Dominic,” I murmured, reaching for him. “No,” he snapped, taking a step back and shaking his head. “You’re taking this too far, Ella. I know you want to help, but I cannot have you putting yourself at risk like this!” He sputtered, turning away and hanging his head, covering his face with a hand.

I reached for him, seeking him through our bond, bewildered by his reaction and needing to understand.

He opened his heart to me when I gently asked him to, through the bond. He let me see his fear, anxiety, and the guilt that washed over him at the mere thought of losing Rafe and me, when he could so easily keep us safe.

My heart broke—for what felt like the eightieth time that day—as I stared at my mate’s broad shoulders.

“I’m so sorry, Dominic,” I whispered, closing the distance and wrapping my arms around his waist from behind. I rested my head against his back, closing my eyes. “I hear you. I feel your fear for me. But I… I can’t not do this.”

“Ella,” he said, his voice cracking with worry and his lack of understanding of my persistence.

Before he could continue, I took a deep breath and shared my feelings through the bond, along with the memories from that day: little Leah, her pale, sunken face, and how fresh her skin looked after I’d spent an hour holding her hand; little Philip, who’d lost a hand to a badly infected wound—a hand he’d never regain, but who would now live, fitted with a prosthesis, and lead a full life; and a dozen other children I’d helped—children who needed me, who weren’t safe unless I was there. The very idea of abandoning them to ensure my own safety was unthinkable.

“You’re forgetting who you chose as your mate, Dominic,” I murmured, my arms still wrapped tightly around him. “Please, please don’t ask me to turn away from them. I can’t—not when I’m the only one who can help them like this, the only one who can truly alleviate their pain.”

Sinclair turned, remaining close enough for me to keep my arms around his waist. He settled his free arm around my shoulders, Rafe still nestled in his other arm. His eyes were wet with tears. I gently wiped away those that began to fall down his cheeks. “All right, Ella,” he said, his voice gruff. He shook his head, not completely surrendering. “I see it now. I understand, and… and you’re right. To hold you back would be to ask you to betray who you are. And who you are is the reason I love you. I get it.”

I nodded, looking up at him, sending a pulse of love and gratitude through our bond. I was so grateful to be with a man who understood me to my core, and who was willing to bend, despite his normally inflexible nature, when I needed him to.

“But we’re doing this on my terms,” he continued, a hint of his usual growl returning, even as his voice remained thick with emotion, worry, and tears. “All right?” “All right,” I whispered, readily agreeing because I knew he’d already conceded so much. It was my turn now. “Your terms, Dominic. Whatever you say.” “Damn right, whatever I say,” he snarled playfully, and I grinned, loving him. I rose on my toes, tilting my head back for a kiss—a long kiss that conveyed his love and his intent to protect me, even if I insisted on venturing into daily war zones.

“Trouble, through and through,” he sighed when I finally pulled away slightly. “You’ve known that for a long time, big scary Alpha,” I murmured, playfully smacking his rear, making him jump and laugh. “Thought you’d be used to it by now.” “Yeah,” he sighed, releasing me. “Me too.” He winced as I pulled away further, noticing his crisp white shirt, now covered in a fine layer of brown dirt.

“What the hell did you do to me…” he murmured. “It’s really dirty at those camps,” I sighed, crossing my fingers. “I’m sorry—was the shirt expensive? I didn’t mean to—” He laughed, giving me a playful smack on the behind and nodding towards the door to our en-suite bathroom. “Shower, immediately,” he sighed, “filthy girl.”

I laughed and winked as I sauntered away. “You like me filthy,” I called over my shoulder, “and you know it.” “Don’t listen to your mother,” Sinclair murmured, pretending to cover Rafe’s ears. I laughed as I entered the bathroom. “We’re not done talking!” he called after me. “Didn’t think we were!” I called back, happy as I stripped off my clothes, anticipating a long, hot shower.

About an hour later, after showering and eating the food Sinclair had ordered, we were settled in bed in the near-dark, a magnolia-scented candle illuminating my bedside table so I could see his face as we talked.

He was so handsome, I thought, smiling at him over our baby, who babbled nonsense words and grabbed his feet as he rolled on his back. Why wouldn't I want to stare at him whenever possible?

Perhaps sensing my thoughts, my mate smiled back and let his thumb drift over my cheek. I kissed his thumb, hoping he knew how much I loved him. I knew how much he loved me—he showed me every day. I hoped I did the same for him.

“So what’s your plan, trouble?” he murmured, his deep voice resonant. Rafe turned towards his father, laughing at the sound. I smiled and stroked my baby’s belly, pleased by his reaction. “I need a team,” I whispered, meeting his eyes. “A big one,” he agreed. “I’m not letting you go there again with just Conner, Ella. I know you believe in the good in everyone, but there are people out there who would hurt you.”

“Okay,” I agreed. “But… can I have Conner?” “Do you like him?” Sinclair asked, tilting his head. “Should I be jealous?” I laughed, smacking his shoulder. “Don’t be ridiculous,” I murmured. “He was very good and helpful today. He’s nice, and Rafe likes him too.” I shrugged. “But… I don’t want to derail his career. Would it be bad to bring him on board?” “Not necessarily,” Sinclair answered thoughtfully. “It would be a diversion, but if he does well protecting the Queen, it could be a good mark in his favor. Would you like me to speak with him?” “Very much,” I said. “All right,” he murmured. “Who else?”

“Cora,” I said quickly, biting my lip. “If she can be drawn away from the clinic, which… well, which Roger might like. But also…” I laughed, looking up at my mate. “I want Hank too, if I can get him.” “How long do you anticipate this project will take?” he murmured, frowning.

“Hank might be willing to leave the clinic for a few days for an emergency, but he’s very passionate about his work there. I don’t see him leaving unwillingly.” “Well, I don’t want to ask him to do that,” I sighed, looking at the ceiling. “Isabel, certainly. What about James? Did you… did you have a good talk with him today?”

“Yes,” Sinclair said, and I looked back at him. “Though I’m afraid I want him myself, Ella, unless you can make a good argument for why no one else can take his place. I want him to train as an ambassador.” “Really?” I asked. “But he’s… military…” “He’s also smart,” Sinclair countered, “and charming, and good with people, and trustworthy. And we may be in a situation where an ambassador who knows the ways of war will be an asset.” “Do you want to send him to Venda?” I asked quietly. Slowly, Sinclair shook his head. “Our major problem is still Atalaxia,” he murmured.

A chill went through me as I realized I’d forgotten about Atalaxia—the looming threat. But as I looked into my mate’s eyes, I saw he hadn’t forgotten—not for a second. And even if Sinclair worried about me, his main concern was this nation still harboring my uncle and possibly planning to support Xander’s attempts to take our child.