Alpha Dom and His Human Surrogate - Season 5 Episode 8

Cora

After a few minutes of this – or maybe an hour, I honestly don’t know how time works here – the baby’s happiness fades away and then into silence. But not in a bad way – more like he just…

“He fell asleep,” Roger murmurs, laughing a little and falling back on the bed, taking me with him since his arms are still wrapped around me.

“It’s too early for the baby to sleep…” I murmur, confused. “That happens around like, the seventh month -”

“All right, Dr. Cora,” Roger mutters, and I can hear him rolling his eyes, even though I can’t see it, which makes me laugh. “Considering that we’re hanging out on a magical dream beach, passing our emotions down a magical bond with our unborn child, I don’t really think that your medical knowledge is coming into play here -”

“Oh shut up,” I murmur, slapping his chest and sighing with contentment. Roger laughs and takes a deep breath of my scent.

“That was amazing,” he whispers. I’ll never forget that as long as I live.”

“Do you think we just felt it because we’re here?” I ask, still likewise thrilled. “Or, will we feel it when we’re awake too?”

“I don’t know,” Roger replies. “But maybe something about being in the dream amplified it. I guess we’ll find out.”

“Yeah,” I say, happy, content. Because as much as I want to feel it all the time, I am also content to wait, to experience all parts of this pregnancy in their own time. “I guess we will.”

And I close my eyes and relax against my mate, little shivers passing through me as he traces his fingers idly over the skin of my back, both of us still marveling in the magic of that incredible first connection with the baby.

But suddenly, something changes. And I open my eyes to see my wolf standing there on the beach, just a short distance away.

“Roger,” I say softly, starting to sit up. He opens his eyes and looks where I’m looking, likewise catching sight of my wolf in the sand, staring at us, her tongue hanging happily from her mouth.

“Oh,” he says, likewise sitting up and holding me close against him. “Wow, Cora…she’s beautiful.”

But I don’t reply as I look at my wolf, at all of the thousand shades of brown that run through her fur, from tawny to chestnut. Because I know that she’s not here to be admired – though she’s enjoying that too.

Come with me, she says – and I know, instinctually, that Roger hears her as well. I have something to show you.

We both eagerly get to our feet as we look at each other, laughing. Because neither of us feel an ounce of fear, even though this is completely bizarre. When we’re standing, my wolf dances in an eager circle and then trots away from us along the beach.

Roger takes my hand and we follow, walking quickly, both dying to see what she’s leading us towards.

Before we get far, another shadow detaches itself from the forest and comes bounding towards us. Roger laughs as his wolf dashes over to us and eagerly presses his head to Roger’s chest, nuzzling against him.

“This is so cool,” Roger murmurs, shooting me a grin before his wolf comes to press his snout into my own hands.

Hello, Roger’s gigantic wolf says as I marvel at his size, at the way he nearly comes up to my shoulder and can completely encircle me when he winds himself around my body, as he does now. You are mine. You should let him bite you!

I laugh, cooing to the wolf “soon, soon,” and running my hands through his warm fur. Roger laughs as well and puts his arm around my shoulder when his wolf dashes off towards mine.

“Told you he was annoying,” Roger murmurs.

“He’s perfect,” I reply, sighing and turning my face up to his for a kiss. But before our lips can meet, my wolf gives another little yip, calling us forward. Confused, but pleased, Roger and I start out again.

“I have no idea what is happening,” Roger says, grinning.

“I think it’s gonna be good,” I say, peering after my wolf. “She’s really excited.”

We both quicken our steps when my wolf stops beside a little patch of green bushes and again turns in her eager circle. Her prancing gets even more eager as we get closer.

Come come, she says, her tongue lolling as Roger’s wolf stands proudly at her shoulder. We want to show him to you.

And then a moan tumbles from my mouth as I fall to my knees in front of the little bundle of fur sleeping there on the beach in front of me, nestled lovingly into a little soft bed of leaves. Roger almost collapses next to me, his hands hitting the sand hard – I think saving him from falling flat on his face in shock.

“Oh,” I say, my voice trembling and my entire body shaking as I reach out towards the incredibly perfect, incredibly tiny little wolf pup sleeping in front of us. “Oh, you…”

And as I reach my fingers out, I barely, just barely feel the brush of fur against them – though not completely, as if he’s still half out of the dream – or more than half –

You can’t touch him yet, my wolf says, her voice full of love and pride. He is not big enough. But soon.

Roger moans wordlessly as he reaches out too, to try to touch the tiny infant pup, and I feel his own shock and disappointment and joy and wonder as he, too, just barely feels the ghost of fur against his fingertips.

Because even if we haven’t met our baby yet this…this is his wolf, his soul. And he’s so, so beautiful…

Tears are slipping down my cheeks again as I lay down next to the pup, as I study every inch of him, and feel Roger curling up next to me to do the same.

“He looks like you,” I say through my tears.

“How can he look like me,” Roger says, his own voice hitching with emotion, “he’s a…a wolf…”

“His wolf looks like your wolf, you idiot,” I murmur, laughing and reaching out a single finger again to trace the line of my son’s wolf’s snout, which I can barely feel. His little nose is still pink with his youth, not even turning black like it will when he’s older and his little ears are now just 1 triangles pinned flat against his skull –

But all over he’s fuzzy, and he’s warm, and his little ribs are rising with his breath, and his little tiny paws are the cutest things I’ve ever seen –

He is a good pup, I hear Roger’s wolf tell us, proud. I like him.

We both laugh at that – at the simple, flat way Roger’s wolf states things – and I glance over my shoulder to see my own wolf prancing and pressing herself close to Roger’s wolf, raising her snout to tap her nose against his, agreeing with the sentiment.

“I like him too,” I say, resting my head down so that my nose is inches from the baby’s.

“Yeah,” Roger says, curling up behind me and peering over at me so that he, too, can stare at the pup as much as he wants. “We’ll keep this one, for sure.”

I laugh at my mate at his weird, dry sense of humor that always keeps me guessing and then, to my grief, the world slowly starts to fade as the dream brings itself to an end.

“Oh no,” I cry, suddenly frantic, wanting to stay here forever – for days, for weeks if we can to watch him grow maybe see him open his eyes –

“It’s all right,” Roger murmurs in my ear, pressing a kiss to my cheek. “We’ll be back.”

“That’s right, little baby,” I say, turning back to my son, who sleeps peacefully on. “We’ll be back. We’ll see you here soon.”

“We love you so much,” Roger murmurs.

And then his voice fades, and the vision fades, and all that is left is rest.