The Mystical Attraction of Alpha
Chapter 96

Chapter 96

Chapter 96 – Ella and Sinclair Reach an Understanding

Ella

“Why does it feel like this is more for my benefit than yours?” I inquire archly, watching as Sinclair poursoils and salts into a large, steaming bath. The clever wolf knows how much I love a bubble bath,especially now that I’m pregnant. After years of constantly being dirty and even living on the street,there is nothing else that feels so luxurious to me – and I can’t think of anything more relaxing.

“Hey, I was going to get in with you – you’re the one who put your foot down.” Sinclair replies with awolfish grin, skimming his fingers through the water to check the temperature.

“Because you have open wounds!” I exclaim, exasperated but also impatient for the preparation to beover so I can sink into the deep tub. “The doctors said you couldn’t submerge your injuries until thescabs are gone.”

Amazingly, the gashes on his back have already scabbed over. It seems that he truly wasn’t lying whenhe told me that shifters heal faster than humans, but I hadn’t expected him to heal quite so fast. At thisrate his wounds will be mere scars in a couple of days.

“Which is why I’ll be supervising, not participating.” Dominic shrugs, I wonder if that hurts him? Iponder, watching the muscles rippling in his back. He certainly doesn’t show any signs of pain.

He’s so strong. My traitorous conscience moons, and for a moment I actually think I see stars in myeyes.

Rolling my eyes at my inner voice, I cross my arms over my chest. “The idea was to help us bothrelax.” I sigh, guilt gnawing at my insides.

“Believe it or not, Ella, but taking care of you does help me relax.” Sinclair declares coolly, pressing abutton that triggers the whirlpool jets built into the tub. A steady thrumming sound whirs to life as thewater begins to churn, foaming and bubbling even higher now.

“Oh sure, I’m sure your version of supervision will ensure neither of us get the least bit excited – as youand the doctor so elegantly put it.” I snark.

The big wolf flashes his fangs, flames dancing in his eyes as he finally turns away from the bath. “If Ididn’t know any better I’d think you were worried about losing control with me.” He observes darkly, “butI can’t imagine why that would be, unless of course your feelings for me are stronger than you’re lettingon.”

“Now you’re just fishing.” I accuse, narrowing my eyes at Sinclair, even as he prowls toward me acrossthe tiled floor.

“Am I?” His dark brows incline towards his hairline. “Because I have no problem admitting mine.”

“Don’t!” I interrupt, feeling a sudden spike of panic. “Seriously Dominic, whatever you’re going to say, Idon’t want to know.”

“I thought we were past that, sweetheart.” He scolds, “didn’t you learn your lesson about actuallyhearing me out when I want to tell you something?”

“This is different.” I insist, “it honestly stresses me out.”

Sinclair pauses, studying me closely. He’s only a few paces away now, but the longer he observes me,the softer his ravenous expression becomes. “Has it occurred to you that part of the reason you’re sostressed is because you’re trying to fight the inevitable, Ella?”

“Dominic, what stresses me out is bringing a wolf pup into a world I don’t belong to or understand, whileliving a lie and dodging constant death threats.” I snap, before I can consider how the Alpha might takemy words. “Can you really blame me for wanting to keep things simple in the face of all that? If we losefocus for even a moment, this could all fall apart.”

He stops dead in his tracks, and I can see a great wall of guilt slam into him. I know he’s not focusingon my logic, but on the blame I’ve basically just foisted upon him. “Wait… that came out wrong.” I try tobacktrack. “Dominic, I didn’t mean that any of this is your fault –”

“You might not have meant it that way, but you weren’t wrong.” Sinclair declares gutturally, his face afull shade paler than it was a moment ago. “It is my fault – if I were a normal man, if I hadn’t forced youinto this situation, you probably wouldn’t have any complications at all.”

“No.” I object, my voice thick with emotion. “You didn’t force me into this, Dominic. And there’s no wayto know whether any of this is connected. Mike destroyed my reproductive system and plenty of healthywomen develop this condition –”

“Maybe so,” He interrupts sharply, “but our situation certainly isn’t making things any better.” Sinclair ispacing now, resembling a tiger in a cage.

“Please don’t do this.” I beg, hiccupping on a sob. “Please don’t blame yourself for this. You’re trying todo the right thing for everyone here. Neither one of us planned this, neither one of us could haveprepared for what the world would throw at us these last few months. I don’t blame you, I just don’twant things to get more complicated than they have to be.”

At the sight, or perhaps scent, of my tears, Sinclair deflates, closing the final distance between us andpulling me into his arms. “I’m sorry.” He croons in my ear, stroking my spine and kissing my hair. “I’msorry, sweetheart. Here I am, supposed to be keeping you relaxed and I’m making you cry.”

My feet are still on the ground, but I don’t want them to be. I begin clambering up the huge man like amonkey climbing a tree, until my arms and legs are wrapped around him and I’m weeping into his neck.“It’s not your fault.” I repeat pitifully. “I cry over everything now.”

“Shh,” He coos, sitting down on the edge of the bath. “It’s okay, you’re not going to break me with a fewtears, trouble.” He says this, but I can hear the pain in his voice, I can still see the horrible expressionon his face.

A steady purr takes up residence in his chest as he deftly strips off my clothes. He tries to deposit mein the bath, but I won’t let go, afraid that he’ll leave if I release him. Instead he manages to pull off hisslacks, shirt and boxers without dislodging me, before sinking into the tub with me still in his arms. I tryto protest about his back, but he just hushes me and continues submerging us in the hot water.

It’s quite some time before my tears slow enough to talk again, and I realize this isn’t even the firstbreakdown I’ve had today. “I love this baby,” I murmur after a while, “but I’m getting really sick of cryingall the time.”

Sinclair’s lips graze my temple. “I don’t think that’s his fault either. Maybe some of it –”

“The bacon.” I remind him, thinking of my most ridiculous fit yet.

“The bacon.” He agrees, sounding almost amused. “But not the rest. You have every reason to beupset, Ella. I should have listened to you earlier, before you fainted. You tried to tell me this was all toomuch and I was too preoccupied with romance to really consider how right you were. It’s exactly likeyou said, I’m letting my feelings distract me from what’s really important, and that’s the campaign. Andit’s you and Rafe.”

“What are you saying?” I sniffle, fearing I know the answer, and unable to decide whether or not I hopeI’m right.

“I’m saying I think you were right. If Lydia is pregnant it might be for the best, and if she isn’t I should tryto replace another she-wolf to be Luna after we get through the campaign.” Sinclair proclaims, his deepvoice sounding hollow – almost as if it belongs to someone else.

Luckily I’m still curled around him like a baby sloth, so I hide my face in his shoulder to prevent himfrom seeing my disappointment. I don’t understand it myself. I know this is the right decision, I know it’sthe most logical solution for our problems, and I don’t plan on arguing it – but it still hurts. It still feelslike I’m being ripped apart from the inside out.

“Thank you.” I breathe, despite my breaking heart. “I’m trying really hard, but I don’t know if I can getthrough another week like this one with my sanity intact.” I confess, recalling everything that’shappened in such a short time: blackmail, Roger learning the truth, Lydia drugging Sinclair, our fight,the car crash, the hospital, now this. Has it really only been three days?

“Bed rest will help.” Sinclair promises, “just you wait, in a week or so you’re going to be so bored you’llbe wishing for another blackmailer just to shake up the monotony.”

I hiccup a laugh, and finally relax against him as my tears slow at long last.

Of course, after two weeks of bed rest, it’s not a blackmailer awaiting me – it’s a text from Lydia. Thereare no words, only a photo, one displaying the unmistakable image of a positive pregnancy test.