Chapter 438 – Falling for the Alpha as a Surrogate Novel

Filed To Story: Falling for the Alpha as a Surrogate Novel

“Ella’s right,”

 Sinclair murmurs behind me, and I look up to see him shaking his head and crossing his arms over his broad, muscled chest. Something stirs in me again as I look at him, and Sinclair glances at me, the start of a smile down his lips as he senses my arousal, either through my scent or down the bond I just shrug a little. I can’t help it. He laughs a little.

“What is with you two,”

 Cora murmurs, still confused and looking between us.

Roger just laughs and tugs her closer.

“Don’t worry about it, Cora,”

 he murmurs, kissing her neck.

“Ill explain it all to you later.”

 She sighs, still confused, but gives in.

“It’s unlikely that the Atalaxians are going to do anything to truly provoke war – this was just their gambit, their way of letting us know where they stand.

If we can just…get through the weekend without killing him, they should go away and give us more time to develop a better strategy for getting Xander back and ensuring that he sees justice.”

“Do you think they’ll let him go?”

 I ask, curious.

“I don’t think that Xander actually means anything special to the Atalaxians,”

 my mate replies, looking seriously down at me.

“I’m securely in power now, and everyone knows that Rafe is my son and heir. If he tries to claim the throne through Rafe…”

 Sinclair shrugs, implying that it’s pot going to go well, internationally.

I smile at Sinclair, glad to see that my clear-thinking mate has returned, pleased to have been able to play a part in that. And I, too, feel so much clearer now after our little…interlude.

“So, he’s a bargaining chip,”

 Roger says, nodding, understanding.

“They know we want him. Now they want to see what they can get.”

“Well,”

 Cora says, sitting up a bit straighter, her strategic mind at work. I smile at her, thinking that Cora has probably the best mind for these sorts of games of all of us – except, perhaps, for Henry, who I suddenly wish was here. Cora could have been a champion poker player, I think, had she not picked medicine.

“I think,”

 Cora continues,

“that our best move then is to demonstrate to them that their bargaining chip is actually of very little value to us.”

“And perhaps,”

 Roger chimes in, nodding his agreement,

“keeping an eye on him to see if he does make a misstep.”

“And if he does,”

 Sinclair growls, a sound of vengeance that makes me smile,

“we take him.”

 I take a deep, contented breath now, smiling around at my family and down at my baby.

“It’s a good plan,”

 I murmur, nodding my agreement.

“ Now..we just have to put it into action.”

 Our little family meeting is unfortunately short-lived.

We spend a few more minutes coming up with the details of a plan, but then the knocks start to come at the door – hairdressers and housekeepers, stylists and party planners. Everyone we’ve asked to come and help us get ready for the evening – Because that formal greeting? That was just the start of the day.

We’ve got dinner and the afterparty to contend with, which I’m sure will present its own challenges.

We all change – Cora and I into more formal gowns, Roger, Sinclair and Rafe into tuxedoes. I squeal with delight as I dress Rafe in his, even though he sleeps through most of it. But he just looks so cute that I can’t stop staring at him.

Cora laughs, coming to my side and looking down at my little sleeping baby.

“Is it going to be all right to take him with us?”

 she murmurs.

“Does he need more sleep?”

“He’s getting used to being a busy royal baby that naps on the go,”

 I sigh, lifting him up into my arms.”

 Besides, Conner is coming,”

 I say with a grin,

“to be Rafe’s bodyguard again. And Rafe’s used to sleeping in his arms after all these weeks at the camps.”

“True,”

 Cora says, giving a little laugh.

“I bet Conne never thought he’d have that title – Royal body guard’ slash traveling crib.”

 I laugh along with her, pleased that the mood has changed so much in the two hours since we left the hall where we greeted all of the delegations. But I feel bolstered now, ready for whatever comes next. And as Sinclair comes to my side, I can see that he, too, is steady.

“Ready for dinner?”

 my mate asks, running a hand down the back of my sparkling silver gown.

“Ready for war, you mean?”

 I ask, grinning in reply.

Sinclair laughs, dipping his head to kiss me once and giving me a nod.

“Come on, private,”

 he growls, giving me a light smack on the a*s.

“Time to move out.”

Ella

I enter the elaborate dining room at Sinclair’s side with Rafe tucked sleeping in my arms. There are no doubts or hesitations on my face and I lift my chin high as I smile slightly, letting people see me as my mate’s unbothered Queen, as someone entirely unruffled by the events of this morning.

Sinclair, walking at my side, presents a similar image: the unflappable Alpha King, his body fully capable of every violent rumor of which our guests have heard, but toned and refined by the mind of a King, a true power player.

The effect we have as a pair ripples through the room with people turning to us, many eyes going wide. Because we really do present the image of two people who should not be trifled with.

I have to admit, a little thrill goes through me at the idea of this. Because, honestly, I usually think of myself as sweet and determined, but certainly not powerful and imposing. But tonight, at Sinclair’s side? It comes to me easier than I thought it would.

Cora and Roger come into the room behind us, our personal guards following after them. Many eyes turn to my human sister, considering her alongside and her fated Alpha mate. I know Roger and Cora are baffling to many people within the wolf community who can’t understand how or why Roger would have a human woman fated to be at his side.

But one look at my stunning sister in her lavender gown? Well. Let’s just say that even without the information that she’s a demigoddess who can control the weather, I think it’s making a lot more sense to a lot of our gathered guests.

Still, as Sinclair and I approach our chairs at the head of the table, I’m aware of some frowns and whispers around the room. Even though the four of us present a strong and untied front, there are as there always are dissenters amongst our supporters. My eyes move immediately to the group of five ambassadors from Atalaxia, dressed in back and gathered at the far end of the table.

Sinclair sent word, of course, that my uncle was absolutely not invited to attend this smaller, more personal dinner, and I am pleased to see that he’s not there.

But I narrow my eyes in their direction anyway, wondering what the hell else they’ve got up their sleeve.

“Dominic, Ella,”

 I hear Henry’s voice say, and I turn to see him wheeling towards us. My face breaks into a grin and I lean forward, giving him a kiss on the cheek and tilting the baby so that Henry can say hello as Sinclair greets his father as well.

“I’ve heard you’ve had a tough morning,”

 Henry says quietly as people around the room begin to take their seats.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there – ”

“Please,”

 Sinclair says, dismissing his apology with a wave.

“We handled it well.

There’s nothing you could have done.”

“Still,”

 Henry sighs, rolling up to his place at the table on Sinclair’s left.

“I’d have liked to have seen the man for myself, been able to assess him. But I’m sure I’ll have more opportunity for that as the weekend passes.”

“Yes,”

 I sigh, taking my own seat as Sinclair pulls it out for me.

“I’m sure you will.”

 I hold my sleeping baby close to me as Cora and Roger take their own seats to my right, and then I look up at Sinclair, who is still standing. A warm smile lights my mate’s face as he lifts a glass of wine towards the waiting group of people and begins to welcome everyone formally to the palace, letting them know that he hopes the weekend will be full of many pleasurable and fruitful conversations about the future of our collected nations.

I smile up at my mate as I listen to him speak, proud of this man who can so seamlessly move between worlds. I’ve seen him in so many different lights now father, mate, soldier, politician, and beyond – and I’m so impressed that he is able to perform each role so admirably. Honestly, my heart tumbles a little over itself as I watch him. I couldn’t have designed a more perfect mate if I tried.

I blush to myself a bit, looking down at my baby, thinking myself the luckiest girl in the world. And then I glance around the table, pleased when I see everyone’s eyes focused on my mate, a variety of expressions crossing their faces most of them warm.

But when my eyes fall on the Atalaxian prince?

I’m shocked to see him looking directly at me. Staring, even.

I blink and sit up straight a little bit, surprised. And my shock only increases when he fails to look away, instead holding my gaze, his face expressionless as he studies me, apparently ignoring the speech and instead trying to figure me out.

I find myself growing more and more uncomfortable under his gaze. What… why on earth would he be so interested in me?

I stare back at him, my own eyes fixed, trying to figure out the mystery But then I jump a little when the room breaks into applause. I bite my lip then, a little ashamed at having missed the tail end of my mate’s speech. But – well, considering that we went over it together last night, refining all the details, I suppose I already know what he said.

When Sinclair looks down at me and tils his glass towards me, I beam up at him, giving my full support. His own smile deepens before he turns back to our crowd of guests, calling for a toast to international friendship and a bright future.

Our guests call the words back to him, heartily joining in with the spirit.

I raise my own glass along with everyone else, genuinely hoping that this can be true. But as my eyes again return to the Atalaxian delegation?

I see that while they raise their glasses in a slight show of support, their eyes are cold. And I have a distinct feeling that they’re going to make our jobs very difficult.

The rest of the meal goes well, with general chatter and delicious food. I pass Rafe to Conner so that I can manage a knife and fork and I do my best to participate, chatting with the guests closest to use, but as I glance at Cora and find her eyes already on me, I know we’re untied in our thought: that the real challenge is going to come after dinner, at the after party.

When we finish our desert and the dinner breaks up, I get to my feet feeling newly steeled for the evening ahead.

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