The Alpha’s Surrogate: A Paranormal Romance (Shifter Surrogate Agency Book 3)

by Layla Silver

  “Right,” he said, cutting into my thoughts. “We’re leaving.”

  “Leaving,” I repeated, my exhausted, overheated brain not following. “I can’t.”

  “You can, and we are,” he corrected. He gently turned me around, his arm staying snug around me. “I won’t carry you out if you can walk, but we’re done. The wedding was a success, and Katie’s on her third glass of champagne. She won’t even know you’ve gone.”

  I laughed wetly at that. Katie was a horrible light-weight, and Nathan knew because he was her Alpha, and he made it his business to take care of everyone. The laugh turned to crying, which had devolved into outright sobbing by the time he eased me into his car. Nathan produced tissues from somewhere and cranked the air conditioning in an effort to make me more comfortable.

  “I hate crying,” I spluttered when I could finally speak again. I mopped at my face with the tissues, grateful I didn’t have to see what all the crying had done to the lovely makeup Sarah had applied for me earlier. “I do it all the time now. Over nothing.”

  “We’ll blame Liam,” Nathan said reasonably, sliding out of the car.

  It was only then that I realized we’d stopped. I blinked through tired, watery eyes as he opened my door. “This isn’t my house.”

  “No,” he agreed, leaning in and all but lifting me out. “It’s mine. You’re exhausted and probably dehydrated. I’m not going to leave you by yourself until I’m sure you’re all right. You don’t want me in your house, so you can stay in mine until you’re feeling better. I’ve got guest rooms to spare.”

  Remorse welled up. “I’m sorry,” I said, around the lump in my throat. “About kicking you out of my house.”

  “Don’t be,” he said firmly, never taking his arm from around me as he guided me inside and upstairs. “It’s your house, and you don’t ever have to have anyone in it that you don’t want.”

  Affection rushed through me at that. Nathan was everything a good Alpha should be. We reached the top of the stairs, and I realized I’d never been to this part of the house. It was beautiful and blissfully cool. Nathan led me into a room at the end of the hall. It was elegantly outfitted with a high sleigh bed in dark wood and white linens, a matching vanity, and cool-colored walls and drapes.

  “Stay here,” he commanded, easing me onto the bed.

  It was unbelievably soft, and I wanted nothing more than to just fall sideways and pass out in its cloud-like comfort. I was still contemplating that possibility when Nathan returned. He set a bottle of electrolyte drink on the stand beside the bed and dropped some clothes beside it.

  “Up,” he instructed, pulling me to my feet.

  I wobbled a little, and he steadied me before squinting at my dress and then reaching for the hidden zipper along the side. I felt a cold shock of disorientation as he started to slide it down, his hands confident and warm on my skin as the fabric came away. “What—Nathan, what are you doing?”

  “Putting you to bed,” he said firmly, easing the dress past my hips. His fingers touched the scalloped edge of my strapless bra. “Is this comfortable?”

  “I’m pregnant,” I grumped. “Nothing is comfortable.”

  He smiled slightly, and then I gasped as he whisked the bra off of me, as well. “Nathan!”

  “I’m not getting fresh,” he promised, tugging an oversized t-shirt over my head. I gaped as he dropped into a crouch and tapped my ankle. “Foot.”

  Too unbalanced to think, I obeyed, lifting first one foot and then the other. Nathan slid the dress away and pulled a pair of worn, baggy shorts up my legs.

  “There.” He pulled back the covers on the bed and nudged me toward it. “In you go.”

  Still dazed and unable to refuse, I crawled in, the heavenly comfort enveloping me. Nathan pulled the covers up and then sat on the edge of the bed beside me. He reached out and gently brushed his fingertips over my cheek.

  “Celeste,” he said softly. He looked conflicted but kept going. “I meant what I said, about not having me in your house, if you don’t want to. I should have … I should have shown more restraint. You set boundaries, and I meant to respect them. Hearing Kurt’s pack threaten you—I didn’t handle it well, obviously. And once I touched you …” He gave a rueful smile. “You felt so good, Celeste. Tasted so good, I couldn’t make myself stop. I’m sorry if I hurt you.” He sighed, his gaze going far away. “I know you don’t want to be involved with me again, and I respect that.” He pulled his hand away and tucked the covers in around me a little more. “I want you to know that I didn’t bring you here to change your mind or to try anything. I just want you to be safe.”

  My head was reeling, and I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t even imagine what I would say in response to that sweet sincerity.

  “Sleep,” Nathan said, rising and retreating toward the door. “If you need anything, I won’t be far.”

  Chapter 13 – Nathan

  I left the guest bedroom door open a crack to make sure I would hear it if Celeste got up or called for me. I didn’t want to be patronizing, but she’d clearly overworked herself, and I had no intention of letting her unnecessarily take another ounce of strain for as long as she’d let me look after her.

  Tempting as it was to just take my laptop and sit outside the bedroom door, I decided that would probably come off as excessive, so I made myself go downstairs. I left the door to my office open, too. It was just me in the house aside from Celeste, and I’d be quiet enough not to disturb her.

  My phone went off, and I fished it out of my pocket. It was a text from Micah. Hey, where are you?

  Celeste wasn’t feeling well, so I brought her home, I replied. Rereading the message, I realized it wasn’t clear, so I added, Set her up in the guest room to sleep it off.

  There was a pause, then he texted back, Want me to hold off on coming over, then?

  No, I typed back promptly. Come whenever you’re done at the reception. The Elders are coming anyway.

  Right. See you soon.

  I sent back a checkmark emoji and tossed the phone on the desk. Then I stripped off my suit jacket and tie and threw them over the back of my chair. There wasn’t any point in trying to work with the Elders arriving soon, but it wouldn’t hurt to start a pot of coffee. Striding toward the door, I stopped, all my senses going on alert.

  Something had moved, I was sure of it. Darting toward the wall, I flattened myself against it and slunk up next to the giant windows that overlooked the front and side yards. Again I caught movement at the tree line at the edge of the yard. Then a figure emerged. Even at a distance, I knew instantly who it was.

  Kurt.

  More figures emerged from the tree line, shifting as they came. Rage tore through me. This was more than my turf—this was my home. The woman I loved and my baby were upstairs, vulnerable. How dare he come here?

  I tore my clothes off, shedding them as I ran for the front door. Elation joined the rage in my blood as I yanked the door open, already shifting as I dove through it. This was the fight I’d wanted for months. Even the Elders would have to concede that I had a right to defend my home ground and my family from direct assault. I could right everything here.

  The cracking of bone echoed in my ears as my paws hit the ground, my body still finishing its transformation as I bolted across the grass.

  I stood a solid six feet tall in human form. As a wolf, I was enormous—a solid wall of sinewy muscle and thick, gunmetal gray fur. I knew every inch of my property in both forms, and I used it my advantage now.

  Kurt’s pack charged at me, snarling and snapping. My bloodlust spiked, everything but the fight bleeding out of my awareness. They were a threat to my pack, and it ended here.

  I darted right as they closed in, evading the trap they’d tried to set, and clamped my jaws on the hind leg of a reddish-brown wolf who’d been leading the charge. Elias. I hadn’t forgotten the threats he’d made to Celeste, and I took my vengeance for them now, sinking my teeth sank through fur, skin, and flesh. I wr
enched my head and felt the bone snap. He howled, and I flung him to the side.

  Two others darted in, one lunging for my throat, the other for my haunches. I recognized the one at my heels as Rudi, and pain stabbed into my hip as he sank his teeth through my skin. At the same time, his partner snapped under my jaw, trying to rip out my jugular. I body-checked him, the two of us rolling over one another as we tumbled. I was the first back to my feet, and it was my turn to lunge. My fangs dug into his unprotected belly, and his yowl of pain rang in my ears as I tore him open.

  Rudi was back on me almost immediately, the others forming a ring around us as he dove at me. I didn’t hesitate, throwing myself at him and digging my claws deep into his side. He yelped and scrambled out of my reach, blood coating his side.

  The others closed in, hitting me from three sides at once. There was no strategy after that. No clear thought. My mouth and nose were full of blood. Cutting, tearing pain was everywhere. The howls of the other pack filled the air as I ripped into them, pouring more than a year’s worth of fury and frustration into the fight.

  There were no rules when one pack attacked another. There was nothing but a raw, feral need for dominance. Nothing mattered but protecting my pack.

  The world had started to telescope, a sign that I was losing blood dangerously fast when other howls joined the chorus. Howls I knew as well as I knew my own—my pack. Micah, I thought, ripping the throat out of the wolf attacking me. Micah and the Elders had arrived.

  The pile of attackers on me thinned, some of the smaller wolves peeling off to throw themselves at the new arrivals. The handful that stayed with me redoubled their efforts, desperate to finish me off before the reinforcements waded in this far.

  Everything hurt, and the ground had gotten slick with blood, making it harder to maneuver. More than once, I lost my footing, and my adversaries and I tumbled to the ground in a writhing, slashing heap. Each time, I was the only one to stagger back to my feet.

  Around me, I could hear the tide turning as my pack chewed its way through our assailants.

  Growling turned to yelps of pain as they took out one after another.

  When I finally took down the last wolf immediately beside me and lifted my head to survey the scene, Micah was shredding a midnight-black wolf, his father beside him entangled with a smaller but equally vicious fawn-colored one. Beyond them, Phillip and Daniel were tag-teaming a large brown wolf. The yard was strewn with bodies, injured wolves limping or dragging themselves toward the tree-line.

  And there, waiting and watching, was Kurt.

  A growl started deep in my chest. The bastard was watching his pack die. My front left paw gave in when I started to stalk toward him, and I stumbled. I saw his muzzle wrinkle in a laugh, and fresh rage crackled along every nerve in my body. Feeding on that furious energy, I loped across the yard, channeling everything I had into finishing this fight. Kurt’s laugh transformed into a snarl, and he braced himself.

  It did him no good. I slammed into him with my whole weight, driving him down into the ground. He pawed at me, but I was so matted with saliva and blood that he could find no purchase. We rolled, my claws digging into him, carving furrows down the tender flesh on the insides of his haunches. I jerked and twisted, trying to evade his savage fangs. He lunged for my eyes, snapped at my ears. I yowled in fury and agony as he caught the tip of an ear, tearing it open, fresh blood smearing his muzzle.

  You won’t have my pack, I thought. You will never threaten what is mine again.

  With a herculean effort, I contorted myself, ignoring the pain screaming in every part of my body. Driving my hind feet deep into the ground, I shoved my head up and buried my teeth in Kurt’s throat. I felt him go rigid, aware in that second that he’d lost. Without pause, I ripped his throat out.

  Kurt crumpled, and I sprawled backward, spitting out fur and flesh. Get up, I told myself. You have to check on the others. Get up.

  My body didn’t respond. The pain started to recede as blackness crept in along the edges of my vision.

  “Nathan!” Micah appeared above me, already shifted back to his human form. “Hell! Shift back,” he demanded, going to one knee beside me. There was a gouge across his shoulder, and he was covered in stains and streaks. “It’s over, Nathan—Kurt’s dead. They’re all dead or retreating. Change back, and let us get you inside.”

  I couldn’t answer, my body already beginning to shift back into its human form of its own accord. “Celeste,” I croaked, as soon as I could make a sound. I grabbed for Micah, yelping when pain shot through me at the touch. Only then did I realize my hand was broken.

  “We’ve got you,” he said.

  I thought there were hands on my legs, but I shook my head, desperate to make him understand even as the darkness swallowed more of my vision. “Celeste. Upstairs. Safe.” I watched his eyes soften in understanding.

  “Yeah, she’s safe,” he promised, his hand gentle on my shoulder. “They never made it near the house. I’ll make sure she’s got everything she needs, okay?”

  I thought I nodded, but then the world was tilting, and everything blurred together.

  “Nathan.”

  Dimly aware that someone was saying my name over and over, I dragged my eyes open. It hurt. Everything hurt.

  “Nathan.”

  I knew those eyes. “Celly,” I slurred.

  A small hand touched my face, and she leaned in closer. “It’s all right. You’re going to be all right. I’m here.”

  I was inside, lying on something soft. I could hear Micah’s voice in the background and feel Celeste’s warmth against my side. Everything will be all right, I thought. We won.

  I tried to smile for her, but my grip on reality crumbled, and everything went black.

  Chapter 14 – Celeste

  Liam kicked as I wedged myself back into the chair beside Nathan’s bed. “There isn’t any fluff here,” I told him, fairly sure he was cranky about my eating “normal” food for lunch instead of another round of pickles and marshmallow fluff. But Nathan didn’t have any marshmallow paste in his cabinets, and I wasn’t leaving the house until he woke up and I knew he was all right.

  Micah had stayed overnight, insisting that I sleep, but he’d gone home a few hours ago, satisfied that Nathan was sufficiently on the mend. Other than catching about six hours of sleep while Micah sat with him, I hadn’t left Nathan’s side since the Elders had carried him inside yesterday.

  I’d woken to the horrific noise of the fight and raced down the stairs, heart pounding and forced to watch as Nathan took on the rival pack alone until the others arrived to join him. He’d been half-dead when they brought him in, but he’d smiled at me when he realized I was there.

  It was at that moment that I knew. Nathan was my mate. He’d always been my mate. Leaving me behind had been the desperate act of a boy who didn’t know what else to do and was trying to take care of me the only way he knew how at the time. He was still trying to take care of me. There, at that moment, viscerally aware that I could lose him, I realized I would do anything to keep him.

  Propping my feet up on the bed, I settled in to wait for him to wake up so I could make sure he knew it.

  I didn’t remember dozing off, but I woke with a start at the feel of a hand on my foot. “Nathan?”

  “Celeste, what are you doing?” Nathan was propped up on his elbows, peering at me in confusion. His dark hair stood up in all directions, mussed from sleep, and a five-o’clock shadow darkened his jaw. He was the most handsome man I’d ever seen.

  “Waiting for you,” I said, struggling upright. Gods, being pregnant made me an unwieldy mess. “How do you feel?”

  He rolled his head from side to side and pushed himself to a sitting position, testing his body. “Not bad,” he decided. “A little stiff.” I could see the memories catch up with him. “The fight—”

  “Everything’s cleaned up,” I assured him. “Micah and the Elders took care of it. We’re safe—Kurt’s dead. Two of his E
lders, too.”

  He looked stunned. “How long was I out?”

  “About a day. You were—” The urge to cry tightened my chest. “It was so bad, Nathan.”

  “Hey.” He caught my hand and leaned in. “It’s all right. It’s all over.”

  “I thought you were going to die,” I blurted, tears welling up.

  He blinked, and I belatedly realized how ridiculously over-reactive this must look given that he hadn’t been around to see me crying over absurd things for months already. Once I’d started talking, though, I couldn’t stop. The words just poured out of me.

  “I thought you were going to die, and I wouldn’t get to tell you I’m sorry—I’m so sorry, Nathan! You—when you left, you were doing the best you could. I know you were. I just—it hurt, and then my parents died, and I couldn’t—I just built walls, because I didn’t want to hurt anymore.” I was sobbing for real now, years of grief and longing gushing out.

  “Oh, baby.”

  Nathan pulled me up into his lap, my left shoulder against his chest, and rested his chin atop my head. It felt so safe to be enfolded in his arms that way.

  “I never wanted to hurt you,” he said, his hand stroking up and down my arm soothingly. “It killed me not to be here when you needed me.”

  “You’re here now,” I said, wiping at my face and struggling to control my tears. “Fighting for us and trying, and I—I still love you.” I sniffled and grabbed for his hands. “You’re still my mate, Nathan, and I’m tired of pretending you’re not. I know it’s complicated now with the baby and the paperwork and everything, but … can we start over? As mates? Like we should have when you came back.” I tipped my head back to see his face, holding my breath in hope.

  Incredulity and then rapturous joy spread over his face, and he folded forward, pressing his forehead to mine. His hands came up to frame my face. “Yes,” he said fiercely. “Yes, baby.”