Ella
I’ve been avidly watching the clock ever since returning home. Neither Hugo nor any of the guards said
a word about my absence, but they did immediately take the grocery bags from my arms, insisting I
shouldn’t be doing any heavy lifting. I came straight to the kitchen afterwards, hoping that I might be
able to finish my surprise before Sinclair comes home, and thereby counteract some of his displeasure
that I snuck out.
In my defense it wasn’t really sneaking. Sure, I waited until the guards were distracted just in case they
tried to stop me leaving, but no one ever told me I wasn’t allowed to do so. In fact Sinclair told me I was
free to go where I wish… though in hindsight I imagine the Alpha wouldn’t like it if he came home and
no one knew where I was – especially after the hospital yesterday.
I try to focus on baking rather than the scolding I’ve surely got coming from Sinclair. I’m really not sure
how to handle the situation. It feels entirely unfair that I could be in trouble for breaking rules I didn’t
know existed, but I’m afraid of angering Sinclair further by expressing my true feelings.
I’m starting to feel completely bipolar in this arrangement of ours. I’m perpetually afraid of saying or
doing the wrong thing and provoking Sinclair’s temper, but I’m not used to censoring myself this way.
Eventually the truth inevitably slips out and then I worry I’ve ruined everything. So I try to reverse
course and do damage control, and probably come off like I’ve got split personalities.
I don’t know what to do. I know I should try to keep Sinclair happy so that I have the best possible
chance to stay with my baby, but I don’t know how long I can keep this up. I also don’t know what to
make of Sinclair in the first place. He’s the most confusing man I’ve ever encountered. I don’t even
recognize myself around him. Once moment he’s turning me on, making me feel safer than I’ve ever
felt in my entire life, and doing sweet selfless things like helping Cora – and the next he’s stomping
around like a tyrant and ordering me about.
I’ve just finished mixing the wet and dry ingredients together in a big silver bowl when the door clicks
open behind me, and Sinclair’s familiar scent fills the room. Uh-oh, here we go.
When I turn around, I find him framed in the doorway, his arms crossed over his broad chest, and a
thunderous expression on his face.
“Welcome home?” I greet him weakly, that statement sounding more like a question than anything else.
Sinclair’s emerald eyes begin to glow as he studies me, raking his gaze over my body from head to
foot and making me positively squirm. “What do you have to say for yourself, Ella?”
“I’m making you a surprise,” I explain, realizing telling him sort of defeats the point. “Or I was – to thank
you for your help with Mike.”
“You left the estate.” He growls, striding forward. “You didn’t tell anyone you were leaving or where you
were going.”
“I was perfectly safe.” I supply feebly. “I went to see your father.”
“You just got out of the hospital yesterday.” Sinclair rumbles, as if I could forget. “You shouldn’t be
lugging around groceries or going on extended walks, and especially not without guards.”
“Dominic, you never told me that I needed to take guards with me if I went out, or that I had to run my
plans by you first.” I counter, trying to stay calm.
“Because I thought it was common sense!” He exclaims. “Ella, you know how crazy the media
coverage has been lately, and you know I don’t go anywhere without guards – and I’m a lot bigger and
stronger than you are. What if something had happened– we wouldn’t have known where to look for
you!”
“I was just trying to do something nice for you!” I exclaim, fighting back tears. “I never agreed to be a
prisoner here.”
“Don’t be so dramatic.” Sinclair scoffs. “No one is saying you’re a prisoner. But you are a public figure
now, and you’re in delicate condition. We’re talking about taking basic precautions and keeping me in
the loop. I need to know where you are, I need to know that you’re safe and not taking careless risks!”
“Carrying a few bags of sugar is hardly a risk to my health!” I argue, smothering a few extra choice
words. “I’m not so delicate that I need a constant babysitter. You forget that I was on my own for 30
years before you came along and I did just fine!”
“Oh right, so fine that a bottom dwelling asshole bankrupted and betrayed you for years on end!”
Sinclair snaps.
“That isn’t fair.” I fight back, my voice thick with emotion. “Don’t blame me for what Mike did!”
“I’m not.” He sighs, seeming to regret his rash statement. “I wouldn’t. But if you were vulnerable to
scum like him in the human world, you’re five times as vulnerable among shifters. You don’t know how
dangerous it is out there!”
“And how am I suppose to know, if you don’t tell me?” I demand. “How am I suppose to know I’m
breaking your ridiculous rules if you don’t even tell me what they are in the first place?”
“They aren’t ridiculous, they’re for your own safety!” Sinclair grits out.
“That didn’t answer my question.” I remark, narrowing my eyes.
“I’m sorry Ella, I didn’t expect you to go galavanting around town when you’re barely recovered! I
thought you would come to me if you needed something.” He grits out, his jaw ticking in annoyance.
“I don’t want to have to come to you every time I want to set foot outside the house!” I cry, “I don’t like
having to rely on other people for things I’m perfectly capable of doing for myself.”
“You mean you don’t trust other people.” Sinclair corrects me, cutting to the quick. “You feel safer doing
everything for yourself, and you don’t know how to ask anyone else for help – let alone believe they’ll
come through for you.”
I don’t know how he managed to figure that out. He isn’t wrong – I’ve always preferred to do everything
myself, because I learned the hard way that I’m the only person I can rely on when push comes to
shove. But I’ve never told him this – I’ve never expressed this to anyone. “I meant what I said.” I insist,
stubbornly notching my chin up.
“I understand better than you think, Ella.” Sinclair relates, softening his tone. “But you’re supposed to
be avoiding stress.”
“What’s stressing me out is you standing here yelling at me!” I accuse, tears burning in my eyes. “I was
just trying to do something nice, I didn’t know it would upset anyone!”
“Come on, now.” Sinclair admonishes. “At least do me the courtesy of being honest – you couldn’t have
gotten out of this house unseen without trying.”
“Or maybe your guards aren’t as on top of things as you think they are.” I bite back.
Sinclair narrows his eyes. “You managed to ditch guards specifically assigned to you, Ella.”
“What?” I squeak. “Why do you have guards assigned to me?”
“Because you’re pregnant with my pup!” He growls, “because I have enemies who would target you at
a moment’s notice, which you very well know.”
“Or maybe it’s because you’re just an invasive, overprotective ass!” I explode, “you haven’t stopped
bossing me around from the moment I got here!”
Sinclair’s eyes flash dangerously, and the next thing I know he’s prowling towards me across the
kitchen. I back away until my body collides with the cabinets, suddenly wondering if I’ve pushed him too
far. “Careful Ella.” He warns, looming over me. He braces his hands on the counter on either side of my
body, pinning me between his arms. He ducks his head so that his face is only a few inches from mine,
and I feel the power and authority rolling off him in waves. “I’ve given you a lot of leeway so far
because you don’t know our ways, but if you keep speaking to me that way I won’t be accountable for
my actions.”
My knees turn to jelly in the face of his anger, but somehow this fear isn’t the same kind I’ve known in
the past. I don’t believe he’ll hurt me, especially since I’m carrying his pup – as he keeps pointing out.
No, his threats feel different – darkly sensual in a way I don’t quite understand. All of a sudden I’m very
curious to see what he’ll do if I keep pushing him. I’m sorely tempted to test him, to see just how far I
can push my luck. “Fine.” I hiss. “I won’t speak to you that way. I’ll show you instead.”
I reach for the bag of flour on my left, taking a handful in my fist. Before I can think better of it, I act,
lobbing the flour right into his incredibly handsome face.
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