idental Surrogate For Alpha Novel Chapter 41
E
“Parenting sses? Already?” I ask in surprise. “I’m only a few weeks along.”
“Yes, but we only have five months to prepare, and you don’t know anything about shifter children.”
Sinir replies easily.
I’m sitting up in bed with a breakfast tray in myp, while Sinir sits in a bedside armchair watching
me like a hawk. It’s the morning after the attack and I haven’t been allowed to move a muscle, not even
to vomit on my own. I attempted to free my body from Sinir’s strong arms when we woke so that I
could make a mad dash to the bathroom, but he ended up carrying me instead – holding my hair up
and rubbing my back until I was finished. In fact he’s been so attentive that he took the day off of work
to stay with me, and now he’s talking about going to our first birthing and parenting courses.
“Are shifter children all that different from human ones?” I ask, feeling a wave of anxiety.
“Well they gestate so much faster that I’d expect unique developmental milestones both during
pregnancy and infancy, and then there are certainly differences in ability and personality. All their
senses are heightened from day one, and they’ll need to learn about our ways and society – which
means you do too.” Sinir reasons.
I frown. Suddenly I feel as though I’m way out of my depth. My child is going to be a little superhuman
miracle running circles around me, will I even be able to keep up? Before I realize what he intends,
Sinir has reached out and smoothed my wrinkled brow with the pad of his thumb, a kind smile on his
face. “Don’t worry, sweet E. This is why I want us to go to ss, and we’re a team remember? I’ll
always be there to teach our pup the shifter side of things, all you have to worry about is loving him.”
I can’t help but smile at Sinir’s tender assurances, and it takes me a moment for hisst word to
click in my brain. “You said “him”, you did the same thing the night I was spotting – I forgot until just
now.” I share, eyeing him curiously. “Is that just hopeful thinking because you need an heir… or do you
know something I don’t?”
Sinir smirks, grazing his knuckles over my cheeks. “I expect there are a few things I know that you
don’t.” He teases. “But yes, it’s a boy. I knew the moment I felt the mental link.”
“Really?” I gape, my hands naturally gravitating to my t tummy. Sometimes it still feels terribly surreal
that there’s actually a life growing within me, and now – to think I have a son, it’s almost too much to
take in. I feel tears in my eyes, and Sinir grins, brushing them away with the pad of his thumb.
“Really.” He confirms. “We’re going to have a little boy.”
Before I can stop myself, I push the breakfast tray aside andunch myself at Sinir, wrapping my
arms around his shoulders and hugging him tightly. He catches me with a chuckle, squeezing me
tightly and burying his face in my neck. He inhales deeply, his warm lips flush to my skin. “Are you
smelling me?” I ask, amusement clear in my voice.
“So?” Heughs, “you smell me all the time.”
“Yeah but that’s the baby.” I remind him, repeating the same exnation he’s given me a hundred
times.
“Well I like the way you smell.” Sinir shrugs, nuzzling my hair. I wait for him to tell me this is also
because of the pup, but he doesn’t. Instead he emits a soft purr. “The baby likes it when we’re close
this way.” He tells me, and I realize our bodies are so tightly pressed together that he’s undoubtedly
able to connect to the child’s consciousness. “He can feel us both, and our happiness.”
“I wish I had a link to him like you do.” I admit, pulling away at longst.
“Don’t worry.” Sinir murmurs, “I’ll always be here to tell you what he’s thinking and feeling.” His
hands slide from my body, and suddenly I feel a rush of cold air. I almost want to wrap myself back
around him, just to get that luscious warmth back, but Sinir is already standing. “Now hop to it,
cuddlebug. ss is in an hour.”
__________________________
“Hey you’re good at that!” I exim, looking over at Sinir’s station. Our first assignment in parenting
ss is properly diapering an infant (using a doll to stand in of course). There are eight other couples
joining us, all at varying stages of their own pregnancies. Having diapered many children through my
nannying days, I was confident that I could ace this part of the course, but I wasn’t prepared for Sinir
toplete the task faster and equally aspetently as I had.
He shrugs, the very picture of humility. “In my line of work you have to kiss a lot of babies.”
I roll my eyes – I highly doubt many politicians go as far as diapering the babies they kiss. In fact I
expect most of them probably pawn off the less pleasant duties of parenthood onto their wives – if they
ever lift a finger at all. “Maybe, but it’s more than that – isn’t it? I remember how great you were with
Millie and Jake.”
For whatever reason, Sinir doesn’t seem to want to take credit for this. Instead a mischievous glint
appears in his eye. “Hey, how about we race?”
“That hardly seems fair, you have supernatural speed.” I whisper, careful not to be overheard.
Everyone here thinks I’m a wolf, and I’m doing my best not to give away my secret.
“Scared?” He challenges, waggling his eyebrows.
Perhaps another woman mightugh off this silly taunt, but I’ve never been one to back down from a
dare. “Fine.” \i answer, narrowing my eyes. “You’re on.”
Sinir shes me a wolfish grin. “Ready, set, go!”
At once I get to work, simting a diaper changeplete with wiping and powdering, before sliding
the baby doll over a clear diaper and doing up the tabs. Naturally Sinir finishes about ten seconds
ahead of me, “ha! I win!”
Before I can reply, the instructores over to us with her arms crossed over her chest, “Parenting is
not a game, you two. Honestly Alpha, I should think you’d take this more seriously.”
We both straighten up, feeling chastised. I’m about to apologize when Sinir points at me and says,
“She started it!”
I gape at him, and before I realize what’s happening a tiny growl vibrates in my chest. I have no idea
where the impulse came from – it’s just like that night at the campaign dinner. Before meeting Sinir
I’d never growled a day in my life. It urs to me that this is probably foolish – wolves don’t growl at
their Alpha’s unless they want a beating. Still, Sinir can only smile. He drags me close and ducks his
head to my ear. “You’re lucky that was cutest little growl I’ve ever heard in my life.” He teases.
“Why, what would you have done if it wasn’t?” I challenge.
“Keep it up and you’ll find out.” He promises ominously.
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I shrug, “You deserved it, you threw me under the bus and you know it.” I try to keep my tone stern, but
inside my insides are veritable mush. I love seeing Sinir’s yful side, and it seems the more time
we spend together the more ites out. It’s nice to know he’s not strong, tough and terrifying 100% of
the time – a strong protector is a wonderful thing, but I want my baby to have a father who will y and
have fun with it too.
The instructor, having given up on us, moves on to the next couple. Still our amusement onlysts a
while. After diapers and cpr we move on to the birthing portion of the course, which is thest thing I
want to think about. Like most expectant mothers, I’m excited for the miracle and eager to meet my
baby, but I am absolutely dreading the pain ofbor. I know it will be worth it in the end, but I’d rather
not think about it overly much.
The instructor seems to have no such sympathy, clearly believing that the best preparation is to know
every gorey detail ahead of time. Sinir and I are seated on a yoga mat and my body is settled
between his legs, my back resting on his chest. At first I was supporting my own weight, but with a little
bit of encouragement I gradually leaned back against Sinir, letting him support mepletely.
The instructor is in front of the room, standing in front of a chart disying a baby curled in the womb.
“The average werewolf baby is 9-12 pounds and 21-22 inches in length–”
I stop listening at this point, trying to wrap my brain around this information. “Did she say 9-12
pounds?” I squeak.
Sinir strokes my belly, “Shifters are bigger than humans, remember?”
I’m shaking my head, “No – no, I can’t do this!” I whisper frantically. “I can’t have a 12 pound baby!
Delivering a small baby is terrifying enough now you’re telling me it’s going to be the size of a butterball
turkey! Nope, uh-uh, not happening!” I’m well on my way to genuine panic, and my voice is getting
louder by the minute. Other couples are turning to look at us, and if I don’t get it together quickly, I
might not only have a very public breakdown, but expose myself as a human too.