Chosen To Be The Alpha's Surrogate
⊰ 40 ⊱ A Desperate Claim

**I Penelope I**

The bedroom is shrouded in darkness when I stir, the heavy curtains blocking even the faintest moonlight. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, to realize that Malachi's side of the bed is empty, the sheets cool to the touch. A flicker of unease sparks in my chest as I sit up, scanning the room.

That's when I see him, a looming silhouette against the inky night sky on our balcony. The soft clink of glass reaches my ears, and even from here, I can smell the sharp, acrid scent of whiskey. My brow furrows in concern. Malachi rarely drinks, especially not in the dead of night.

Guilt twists in my gut as I remember our argument, the hurt and fear that flashed in his eyes when I turned away from him. I know my reaction struck him deeply, perhaps more than I intended. The memory of his face, usually so controlled, contorting with a mixture of anger and desperation, makes my heart ache.

With a soft sigh, I push myself out of bed, the cool air raising goosebumps on my skin. I wrap my robe around my growing frame, the silky material a poor shield against the chill of the night and the tension hanging in the air. My bare feet make no sound on the plush carpet as I pad quietly to the balcony door, pausing for a moment to gather my courage before stepping out.

"Mal?" I say softly, not wanting to startle him.

He turns, his eyes meeting mine in the dim light. They gleam with an intensity that sends a shiver down my spine, a potent mixture of alcohol, sleeplessness, and something darker, more primal. "You should be sleeping," he says, his voice rough with whiskey and something else.

I move to stand beside him, but he doesn't soften his stance. There's a tension in his body that I've never seen before, like a predator coiled and ready to pounce.

*I keep pushing him away, and all he does is try harder.*

...

*Maybe he's finally had enough...*

"I'm sorry," I murmur, trying to bridge the gap between us. "For shutting you out earlier. I was overwhelmed, I didn't mean to "

Malachi cuts me off by taking a long swig of his whiskey, his eyes never leaving mine. The amber liquid catches the faint starlight as he tilts the glass back. Then, with a movement so swift it startles me, he sets the glass down on the balcony railing with a sharp clink and steps forward.

I instinctively back up, but there's nowhere to go. My lower back presses against the cool stone of the railing as Malachi crowds into my space. His hands grip the rail on either side of me, effectively caging me in. The heat of his body contrasts sharply with the cool night air, making me acutely aware of every inch between us.

"Do you have any idea," he growls, his face mere inches from mine, "what it would do to me if I lost you? Either of you?"

His breath fans across my face, warm and heavy with the scent of whiskey. This close, I can see every nuance of emotion in his eyes-the raw fear, the simmering anger, the desperate need to protect what's his. This isn't just my mate I'm seeing this is the Alpha, pushed to the very edge of his control by the threat to his family.

"Malachi," I breathe, my heart racing so fast I'm sure he can hear it. But instead of fear, I feel a surge of heat coursing through my veins, pooling low in my belly. The intensity of his gaze, the barely restrained power in his body... it calls to something deep and primal within me.

Before I can think better of it, I lean forward and press my lips to his. For a split second, he's still, as if shocked by my boldness. Then, with a growl that's more animal than human, he returns the kiss with a hunger that borders on violence. His hands move from the railing to my body, one tangling in my hair to tilt my head back, the other gripping my hip with bruising force. I gasp against his mouth, my body responding instantly to his touch. He takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue invading my mouth as his hand slides from my hip to the small of my back, pressing me flush against him.

I can feel every hard plane of his body, the heat of him seeping through the thin material of my robe. My hands, seemingly of their own accord, slide up his chest to his shoulders, feeling the tension coiled in his muscles.

In one swift motion, he lifts me, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. He carries me back into the bedroom, his mouth never leaving mine.

He tosses me onto the bed with a roughness that should frighten me, but only serves to stoke the fire building in my core. I bounce slightly on the mattress, my robe falling open to reveal my swollen belly and heaving breasts.

Malachi stands at the foot of the bed, his eyes raking over me with a possessive hunger that makes me feel simultaneously exposed and cherished. In one fluid motion, he strips off his shirt, revealing the taut muscles and scattered scars that I know so well.

As he crawls up the bed towards me, there's something predatory in his movements, in the glint of his eyes. This isn't the gentle lovemaking we usually share. This is something rawer, more primal.

"Mine," he growls as he hovers over me, one hand sliding up my thigh and tearing my underwear off. "Say it, Penelope. Tell me you're mine."

"Yours," I gasp as his fingers find my center, already slick with want. "I'm yours, Mal. Always."

What follows is a frenzy of hands and mouths, of teeth and nails. Malachi takes me with an intensity that borders on desperation, each thrust seeming to stake his claim anew. I submit to him completely, understanding on a visceral level that this is what we both need right now.

Each thrust is harder than the last, a punishable pace that undoes me quicker than usual. As we reach our peak together, Malachi bites down on my shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark as he expels his warm seed into me. The sharp pain mingles with the pleasure cresting through me, pushing me over the edge with a cry that's part ecstasy, part surrender.

In the aftermath, we lie tangled together, our bodies slick with sweat. Malachi's arm is wrapped around me possessively, his hand splayed over my swollen belly. I can feel the tension still thrumming through him, the anger and fear not fully dispelled.

"I'm sorry," I whisper into the darkness, my voice hoarse. "I never meant to "

"Don't," Malachi cuts me off, his voice low and firm. His arm tightens around me, as if he's afraid I might disappear. "Just... don't ever do that again. Do you understand me?"

I swallow hard, hearing the command in his voice. This isn't a request-it's an order from my Alpha. "I understand," I say softly.

He pulls me closer, burying his face in my hair. I feel his lips move against my skin as he murmurs, "I can't lose you. Either of you. I won't."

As I lie there, cradled in Malachi's arms, I feel a mix of emotions washing over me. Part of me wants to rebel against the command, to assert my independence. But a larger part understands the fear driving him, the fierce determination to protect what's his at all costs.

If he's this adamant, this shaken, it has to be for a reason. The dangers we face must be more real, more immediate than I've allowed myself to believe.

I press closer to him, seeking his warmth, his strength. Stubborn as I may be, in the end, he always finds a way to make me submit to him. But dominating as he may be, I always find a way to soften his heart.

This is how I know... no matter what, we're meant for each other.

Fate, ex-mates, and rogue alphas be damned.