Alpha Dom and His Human Surrogate - Season 5 Episode 72

Ella

The door opens then, Roger and Sinclair coming through.

“No!” Cora calls, pulling the pillow out from behind her back and flinging it at Roger. “Not you, who did this to me! The source of my misery!”

Roger just grins as he snatches the pillow out of the air. “And how is my gorgeous mate, mother of my child and heir?” he murmurs, quickly crossing to her and wrapping her in his arms.

“Villain,” she growls, grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him closer, pretending to be mad but unable to hide her smile. “You’re going to pay for this!”

Roger just snarls and pulls Cora closer, covering her face and head with kisses that make her shriek and swat at him, laughing.

I grin as Sinclair comes over to me, leaning over to look down at me and Rafe. Rafe squeals happily when he sees his papa, reaching his arms out and asking to be picked up. Sinclair beams as he lifts his baby and swings him into the air, which makes Rafe laugh wildly.

I grin, happiness racing through me as I watch them, and then as I look over at Cora and Roger, who are smiling happily now with him tucked close to her on the bed, asking how she’s feeling. Cora laughs as she lists her bodily complains, and Roger listens to every one of them, nodding and murmuring his consolations.

“So,” I say, sitting up and curling my legs beneath me, beaming at my mate with his little baby – the tiny mirror image of him – in his arms. “Any news from the war front?”

“Some good things,” Sinclair says, sitting down on the bed facing Cora and Roger so that we can all talk – if Roger and Cora ever remember that we’re here- and putting an arm around my shoulders to tug me close. “We’re making good progress with some of our more ambitious plans.”

“Like what?” Cora asks as Sinclair extends a leg across the bed and places Rafe down so he can crawl. Without a word, and perhaps without even realizing that he’s doing it, Roger extends a leg along the other side of the bed, ensuring that Rafe can’t fall off in either direction. I grin, looking between the Sinclair brothers, so pleased to see them become such dads.

“We officially got the vote to fund and start the Alpha Academy,” Roger says, grinning at Cora.

“Oh?” she says, her eyebrows going up as she looks around. “Wow that…incredible…”

Sinclair grins at Cora’s false enthusiasm. “What?” he says, leaning forward to her. “You don’t like the idea?”

“Well, it may just be that I’m about to become a mom to a little boy,” she says, her hand again stroking over her stomach as she speaks her mind. “But yeah – it gives me a little bit of anxiety to think of an academy that takes young men and trains them to be on the front line of the war.”

“The military takes men as young as eighteen,” Roger says, his voice careful to let her know that he considers her point even as he counters it. “The Alpha Academy starts recruiting at age twenty, and many of the recruits will be as old as twenty-five.”

“Plus,” Sinclair softly points out, ” wolves reach their majority at age sixteen.”

My eyes immediately snap to Rafe, who just seems to be growing so fast. Less than fifteen years and he’ll be grown in wolf culture. My stomach turns over at the thought.

“I mean, I get it,” Cora says, looking down at her belly with a shrug. “I just… I hate the idea of Rafe and the baby growing up in a world where they’re trained to put their lives on the line.”

“It will be their choice,” Sinclair says quietly. “No one would make them go.”

“Yeah,” Cora says, her eyes a little colder now. “But in this family, with all these big tough Alphas swaggering around? And growing up in a nation at war? I doubt they’re going to choose to be poets.”

“You never know,” Roger says, tipping his head so that it rests against hers. “They may surprise us.”

“We won’t take boys into the Academy to teach them how to sacrifice themselves, Cora,” Sinclair says quietly, his voice heavy with responsibility. “We would teach them to fight, and to survive.”

Cora nods, understanding, but still clearly displeased. “What about girls?” I ask suddenly, frowning a little.

“What?” Sinclair asks, turning to me.

“Girls,” I say, looking between him and Roger. “Can girls go to the Academy too?”

Their hesitation tells me everything I need to know.

“That’s so sexist!” I protest, throwing my hands up in the air.

“Seriously, Ella?” Roger says, leaning forward to look at me with eyes full of doubt. “You’re telling me that if you had a beautiful little girl with rose-gold hair and a sweet little angel face, you’d want to ship her away to a military academy?”

I hesitate, because I know that if I had a little girl…

Well. My instincts would probably be to tie her to my side before I let her do that. But then I look at Rafe and consider – why should it be any different? Why should I have different standards of safety for him, than for a girl?

“Female wolves have different bodily strengths, Ella,” Sinclair says, his voice careful.

“Oh, that’s such crap,” I say, rolling my eyes and turning to him. “I’ve seen my wolf-she’s bigger and more powerful than plenty of men’s wolves out there -”

“No one’s doubting you -”

“But you’re saying girls can’t go to Alpha Academy because our wolves are weaker?”

Sinclair presses his mouth into a line as he looks at me, lowering his brows. ” I can concede that point, Ella,” he says softly, his voice hard, “and still insist that the Academy only accept male cadets. At least for now. You’re fighting hundreds of years of male-only wolf military tradition, and while you may be right that we need to ask questions about those traditions, wartime is not the right time for that. No girls.”

I scowl at him, narrowing my eyes, but I back off.

“Okay,” Cora murmurs, leaning forward and clearly preparing to get up. “As pleasant as this incredibly tense dead-end conversation is, I want to go home and lay in my bed.”

“Oh,” I say, my face falling as I turn to look at her. “I’m sorry – you’re right, I shouldn’t pick a fight. Stay! We can have dinner here.”

“No,” she says as Roger stands up. Cora takes his offered hand and accepts his help getting to her feet. “It’s not your fault, Ells – I’m just…very tired and sore and grumpy and hungry and

“The list goes on,” Roger says, smiling down at her.

“Yes,” she says, looking up at him. ” And you’re going to spend all night hearing about it.”

“Good,” he replies, tilting up her chin and pressing a kiss to her mouth.

I sigh but get up, letting Sinclair catch the baby as he begins to crawl away. My mate playfully scolds our child as I hug my sister goodbye.

“You’ll call me?” I say, looking down at her stomach. “If anything happens?”

“You know I will,” she says, giving me a small smile that falls from her face, replaced by a sigh. “But I think I’ve still got some time left on this one.”

“My phone is on regardless,” I say, pointing to it on my bedside. “You call.”

Cora agrees and she and Roger walk out of the room, him already pressing a firm hand to the small of her back where he knows she’s hurting.

When the door closes behind them, my mate comes and stands next to me, Rafe in his arms.

“Are you mad?” he asks, looking down at me, ready to hear me out if I am.

“No,” I reply, looking up at him and raising a hand to brush my fingers against his cheek. “It’s just all very difficult, isn’t it? And I shouldn’t pick fights about problems we don’t have right now. All of that – Rafe training to be a warrior, potential daughters that’s all years down the line.”

“I worry about it too, you know,” he murmurs, pulling me close.

“You do?” I ask, my eyes going wide. And suddenly I feel a little guilty – because he’s already got so much on his plate to worry about. He should leave worrying about Rafe’s future to me, let alone non-existent potential future children.

“Of course I do,” he says with a smile. “But…” he shifts Rafe to the side so that he can pull me flush against him, his face growing wicked and hungry as he looks down at me. “I can maybe think of a thing or two that we can do to get our minds off of it. Even just for a little bit.”

“Oh, yes, Alpha,” I murmur, smirking and standing on my toes to bring my face closer to his. “Tell me precisely what you’re thinking.”

But my mate? He doesn’t. Instead, he presses his mouth to mine, parting my lips with his, and languidly kisses me, leaving words behind and showing me what he’s thinking instead.