Chapter 351

Accidental Surrogate Chapter 351-Coral

Roger gives a rough, sarcastic little laugh. “Jealousy? Jealousy? Cora, this has nothing to do with

jealousy-

“Then what is it?” I ask, confused.” Honestly, Roger – if it’s not jealousy, then what else is your reason

for not wanting Hank here to take over for me, and treat these men when I need to rest?” And Roger

goes still, at a loss for words, because…

Ella starts to laugh suddenly, and then slaps a hand over her mouth. Roger growls and glares at her,

but she just shakes her head in apology, still unable to help it.

“He’s not jealous,” I say to Ella defensively, choosing allegiance over truth and working hard to keep a

smile off my face as I stand close to my man and slip an arm around his waist. Because I’m little

pleased, honestly, to see Roger want me all to himself, to be protective enough that he doesn’t want

Hank anywhere near me. “He’s just…” and I hesitate, smiling up at Roger, shaking my head because I

don’t know what to say.

“What I am is done with the two of you,” Roger growls, peeling his arm from around my waist and

glaring at the two of us. “Sisters,” he scoffs, and then points a finger between us. “I’ll stay up treating

these men all damn night myself, if that’s what it takes,” he continues. “But no Hank in the bunker. Are

we clear?”

“Yes, baby,” I murmur, moving close to him again and laughing a little as I wrap my arms around him

again.” Whatever you say.”

“Damn right, whatever I say,” Roger mutters, his feathers still a little ruffled. And then, after a minute, he

whispers to me again. “We’ll send them out,” he says, “as soon as Sinclair wakes up. The ones you

want to have further treatment? I won’t stop them from getting it, just because I…don’t want him here.”

“Okay,” I whisper, resting my head against my mate’s chest and smiling softly. “That’s a good plan.”

Ella

We worked for hours more, to the point where I think that Cora was falling asleep on her feet. But I

couldn’t leave her didn’t want to let the entire burden of healing all of the men who went on the mission

on her shoulders.

We did send three out – Sinclair contacted Hank and arranged for the worst hurt to be transferred to

the hospital once Cora got them stable enough to go, but there was still an incredible amount of work to

do after that changing bandages, checking vitals, ensuring that everyone was fed and had water. We’re

lucky, really, that Sinclair foresaw this as a possibility and had the bunker stocked and ready with a

great deal of medical supplies.

Eventually, it was Roger and Sinclair who told us to stop. I was leaning over a sleeping patient, trying to

see if he was healing, when suddenly I felt a warm hand on my hip. I didn’t jump – either because I had

no more energy for it or because I knew who it was. I don’t know which.

“Enough, Ella,” came Sinclair’s rumbling voice, and I turned to look up into his face, and then peer

down at our baby curled against his chest. Rafe was awake, blinking at me with his sweet eyes.

“Hey baby,” I murmured, reaching for my boy, and my mate passed Rafe to me easily before guiding

me towards the door of the room. “But – ” I said, looking over my shoulder for Cora – not wanting to

leave her – but I saw Roger having a small conversation with her, his hands on her shoulders,

convincing her, too, that it’s time for bed.

“It’s all right,” I heard a voice call, and I turned, surprised, to see Henry at the door. “I’ll stay up.”

“But you’ve been up all day,” I murmured as Sinclair and I crossed to him.

“I’m an old man, Ella,” Henry said, smiling up at me and quirking his fingers so that I understood that he

wanted like me to bend down so that he can see the baby. As I obliged him, Henry continued. “What

time I have

left in this world, I’d like to spend awake anyway. I don’t want to miss anything.” He brushed Rafe’s

cheek softly before smiling at me again. “Go to sleep – I’ll wake you if anything happens and we need

you.”

“All right,” I said, standing up straight and heaving a huge yawn. We started to pass through the door

but Henry called after us. “Sleep well,” he said, “but in the morning…we have to talk.”

I hesitate, wanting to go back, wanting to ask why, but Sinclair put a firm hand on my shoulder. “Talk

tomorrow,” he says, exhausted. ” Tonight? Sleep.”

And I put my head on my poor wounded mate’s shoulder and let him lead me away to our room. Now,

in the cold light of morning, I wake before Sinclair and take a moment to look him over while he’s

sleeping. The burns on his body were restricted mostly to the skin that wasn’t covered by clothing, and

I quickly look over his face, arms, and hands, pleased to see that while there are some tender pink

spots, the skin shiny and taut, he looks much better than he did yesterday.

I heave a sigh of relief and swing my feet off the bed to turn to Rafe, who is just beginning to fuss in his

makeshift crib.

“Hello, little boy,” I murmur, bending over his cradle. I lift Rafe up into my arms, joy blooming in me as I

consider him. He really is a good baby – he still wakes up in the night when he needs me, of course,

but in the mornings he has this remarkable tendency of waking up just moments after I do. ” Are you

using your little wolf senses?” I whisper to him, carrying him over to the bed and adjusting my shirt a

little so that I can feed him, “are you giving mommy a break?”

He doesn’t reply, of course, but as I sit down I feel Sinclair move his hand over a little to rest against my

thigh, letting me know that he’s awake, but not yet up. I smile at him, pleased and understanding,

letting him have his minute of silence, and then I feed my baby, savoring the slow start to the morning.

Because, I know, it is going to be a very busy day. And, considering Henry’s warning the night before,

one in which we are going to get some news that we really don’t like.

The peace of the morning doesn’t last long. As I’m still feeding Rafe a knock comes at the door and,

groaning, Sinclair gets up to answer it. A few hurried words there has him closing the door and crossing

the room to our small bathroom, seeking a shower.

“Is everything okay?” I ask.

“Fine for now,” he says, “but Hank sent some reports from the hospital regarding how our men made it

through the night.”

“Are they okay?” I ask in a whisper, anxious.

“They’re stable,” Sinclair responds as he ducks into the bathroom, but I can tell by the tightness of his

voice that it’s not all as good as it could be. And suddenly my heart plummets for him as I realize how

difficult it must be, ordering men to go into situations where they put their lives on the line. I sigh and

finish up with the baby, grabbing a burp cloth to toss over my shoulder before I lift Rafe to my chest and

begin to pat him on the back while I move to the bathroom door to peer in after my mate.

I can’t help the little thrill that runs through me when I see Sinclair in the little glass and metal shower,

the water running over his powerful, naked form. I know that it’s inappropriate to be turned on by my

mate at this moment but…well, I can’t help it.

He turns, perhaps intuiting something – or maybe smelling my desire on the air- and smirks at me while

he quickly runs the bar of soap over his body.

“You like what you see?” he asks.

“A little too much,” I respond, precisely at the same moment that Rafe gives a little burp and spits up on

my shoulder. We both laugh at his timing. But then I turn my eyes seriously back to Sinclair. “You’ll tell

me?” I ask, my voice soft. “How I can help you?”

And my mate meets my eyes seriously as he says, “I will. Thank you, Ella. For being so selfless. For

always wanting to hello.”

I smile a little and give him a wink.” It’s not completely selfless,” I reply with a little shrug as I turn away.

“I was promised six more babies, after all. Gotta keep you happy until I get the last one, and then I’ll be

done with you.”

“Six!?” he calls after me as I saunter away, making me laugh. “I thought we agreed on four!”

“Now it’s eight!” I shout back, laying Rafe on his little changing table and starting to get him ready for

the day, listening to Sinclair’s groan from the other room.

“Daddy doesn’t mean it,” I whisper to the baby as I begin to change his diaper. “If your siblings are all

as cute as you, we’ll have twelve.”

Rafe coos and chuckles as we hear Sinclair’s shout from the bathroom.

“I heard that!”