The Alpha's Surrogate: A Paranormal Pregnancy Romance (3 page)

Imagine, with their tech, and their armies, what they would do to us today? Imagine if killing us wasn't what they wanted. No, the old ways passed for a reason."

Indigo smiled at his friend, he'd known his answer before he spoke.

"You listen, old friend, but you don't hear. I said surrogate, not mate. This is the twenty-first century, you know, genetics."

Richards looked to Indigo, understanding slowly creeping up on him.

"You mean, have a woman carry my baby to term, before December, then collect the child and go?"

"Exactly, she need never know who, or what we are, simply that we need her womb."

"Doesn't exactly sound romantic when you put it that way."

"It's about survival, not romance. Naomi can help us locate a woman willing to do it."

Richard shook his head, "It will take more than just any woman who can bear a child... it will take someone special."

"Agreed, but there are plenty of humans willing to do it for the right price. I'm sure something can be arranged, Seattle's a big place."

                        * * *

The two friends smiled in the coming dawn. A new day set on their pack, and they would see one more moon.

"Welcome to Seattle," Naomi greeted Richard and Cara as they entered her posh office just off of Mercer. Naomi was the pack’s only human contact, an attorney who handled money matters, and helped with any indiscretions.

Cara had agreed to join Richard, he wasn't in the habit of ordering his pack unless it was vital. Where Cara was tall, curvy, and with long brown hair, Naomi was more the modern standard of a woman. Whip thin, with platinum blond hair, piercing blue eyes, and a musculature born of frequent work outs.

"What can I offer my least interactive clients?"

Richard shook her outstretched hand, and nodded to Cara.  "This is Cara, and she’s assisting me on our trip."

The two women regarded each other for a moment. Though Naomi wasn't a wolf, nor part of the pack, there was a subtle battle of wills. Cara's wolf trying to decide where Naomi was on the pecking order, and Naomi's force of personality refusing to care. There was a brief moment of tension, then it was over. Cara slipped her arm through the crook of Richard’s, and Naomi relaxed in her chair.

"Naomi, how much do you know of the blight?"

"Just what you told me in your letter, it’s a disease that only effects... your kind. It’s especially hard on women, often leaving them barren."

"Not often, always."

"Oh. I see, I'm so sorry, Cara."

Cara forced a tight smile, but Richard could sense the emotions playing beneath the surface. Often, even if there were no plans for a child, losing the ability to ever have one could be emotionally impacting.

"Thank you, it's... difficult to come to terms with. To live through a disease that has killed so many, but not come out unscathed. My…nature, is having a hard time with it."

Richard understood that, the wolf part of his people was unused to disease or sickness, which was something prey had, not wolves.

"I understand, but without you coming into the light, though, there isn't a whole lot that can be done. We can't fund any kind of research for a cure…" Naomi had obviously given this some thought.

Richard nodded. “No, this is our cross to bear. We're here for a different reason, and we don't have a lot of time. You see, we want to find a surrogate for our pack, someone who can bear young for us, so we can replenish our numbers. A human."

Naomi leaned back in her brown leather chair, her hand absently playing with a lock of hair.

"That's the real trick, then. Any special requirements? Because it seems like there would almost have to be."

"Well, she will need to be…fit, to carry our baby to term, and we'll have to meet her, she would need to be special. The disease killed our women’s ability to have eggs, so she will have to be the mother, not just a womb, she will have to be okay with never seeing the baby."

"They're certainly plenty of girls in the city willing to surrogate, and if the price is right, I'm sure the added requirement of an egg won't be a problem. When do you want to get started?"

"Right away, she has to give birth by December twenty first, or the baby will shift in the womb."

Naomi involuntarily shuddered. “Yeah, that wouldn't be good, let me get a list together and we'll start the interviews right away. In the meantime, I've got IDs for the two of you, husband and wife," Cara stiffened and looked away, her face briefly burned with shame before she could hide it.

Naomi, for her part, continued as if nothing had happened. "Credit cards for both of you, twenty grand on each, and I've got you booked at a suite at the Weston, anything else?"

"You've been great, Naomi, let us know when we can start interviewing."

"Shouldn't be more than a couple of days, in the meantime, do some shopping, and enjoy the city."

CHAPTER TWO

Reign dumped the last of the load into the industrial dishwasher with a sigh. It'd been a long night. She'd been cleaning for the last hour, the longest part of her sixteen-hour day. Once she was done, the eighteen-year old could go home, sleep for four hours, and maybe, be on time for her appointment.

She wiped her forehead, her hand came away sticky with sweat. She ran her hands through her long black hair to reset her pony tail for the nth time. The restaurant was as clean as she could make it. If they wanted it cleaner, they could pay her overtime, as it was she was working for free just to finish up her responsibilities.

She texted her mom with one hand as she locked the door with the other.

Be home soon. Love
.

Working late in west Seattle could be dangerous but she needed the job. Her parents were in too much debt to help her with school and since her dad technically made a lot of money, she couldn't get student loans.

However, the government failed to take in account that her dad's business required him to spend more time in India than in Seattle, leaving his wife, a native of Holland, and American daughter to live here virtually alone. He did make a lot of money, just not so much that there was anything left over for Reign to go to school.

Her phone buzzed her mom’s reply as she made her way to the bus stop. It was a half hour wait for the bus, then an hour ride home to Federal Way. She stifled a yawn as she walked quickly to the covered seats. It was freezing cold out, mid-January always was. She was faintly surprised that there was still no snow, but it would come soon enough.

Lost in thought, she didn't see the shadow she picked up, or notice the person at the bus stop who'd been at her table earlier that evening. She put her earbuds in and let the enchanting sound of a violin wash over her. She wasn't a prodigy, but she hoped to get into music school to play for a living.

"Hey."

Her eyes were closed, but she heard the voice over the music. Annoyed, she reached up and removed one earbud, "Can I help you?"

"When's the next bus?"

Reign glanced at the sign in full view of the stop with the arrival times and departures. She pointed with one hand while the other put her music back in.

She tried to get back into the sounds of the symphony when she realized he was still talking to her.

"I'm sorry, it’s been a long day, and I just want to listen to some music and go home," Reign said.

"Wow, you're a real bitch."

The sudden tone shift kicked in her alarms. The man went from feigning pleasant to angry in two seconds.

"I'm sorry," she forced a smile at him. She should have been more aware, he obviously was in a gang, eighteen or nineteen, big like a football player.

Suddenly, her eyes picked up movement. She casually smiled at him, reached up and removed her ear buds. He wasn't alone, with her music off she could hear at least two more behind her, and another two crossing the street toward her.

"Is that supposed to make it better, you disrespect me and just say you're sorry and smile? Fuck you, bitch, let me tell you what I think of you rich little whores coming down here to slum."

An arm grabbed her around the neck. She bit it, hard. The man hollered and let go, Reign didn't hesitate - she ran. The man in front of her reached for her, he got a piece of her purse, and she let it fall and kept running. Another managed to hit her shoulder, knocking her off balance, before a third wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Let me go!"

Her screams echoed down the street.

"Sure, bitch, but first were gonna have some fun with you. Struggle all you like, it ain't going to help."

The one holding her swung her around and dragged her. He was huge, at least two hundred and fifty pounds, a full hundred and twenty pounds heavier than her.

"Let me go," she kicked and punched, tried to bite him, but her angle was all wrong, one of the others slapped her so hard her vision blurred.

Tears fogged her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. This couldn't be happening, not to her. She didn't dress like a slut, she didn't drink at parties, and it’s those girls who get raped, not her.

One of the boys had his hand under her shirt already, the others opened the door to a van. She wanted to struggle, but her strength was gone from the tremendous blow laid on her.

The one holding her was trying to pull her skirt down, another pulled at her shirt.

Reign closed her eyes, face wet, she choked back sobs,
this isn’t happening, oh god don’t let this happen, please save me.

"Who the fuck are y...."

The sound of flesh hitting the van snapped Reign’s eyes open. A man, was he a man? Huge, tall, but built like a boxer with a narrow waist and huge arms, he slammed the one from the bus stop into the van so hard the sheet metal collapsed. He grabbed the one with his hands under her shirt by the back of his neck, raised him high in the air with one hand and then slammed the kid into the pavement face first.

The one holding her grunted in pain and shock, then dropped her. She tried to follow what was happening, but it was so fast.

A woman, god what a beautiful woman, was with her, holding her, moving her away from the van. 

"Who are you," Reign managed to stammer between mouthfuls of air as she gasped for breath.

Guttural screams of pain, followed by meaty thuds, echoed behind her.

The brown haired beauty led Reign to a dark colored Mustang, with its engine running and both doors open.

When Reign finally managed to pry her eyes open, to control the sobs that wracked her body, and wipe enough of the tears away, she was sitting in the back of the car. She thought the girl who was with her would get in, instead she said, "Stay here, you'll be safe," and closed the door. Her voice was so soft and sweet, but it had a low base to it that made it dangerous.

"Cara," the other roared, as he held one man a foot off of the ground, and slammed another into the side of the van. Cara half leaped, half slid over the hood of the car and took off like a shot. Reign could not believe how fast she moved.

She slammed into another man who was trying to run away, she rode him to the ground, knees in his back, hands full of his hair. He screamed in pain as her full weight came down on him. She smashed his face into the curb several times splintering teeth and bone. Reign watched in disbelief. Is she growling at him? I must be hearing things. Reign stared in disbelief.
Is she growling at him? I must be hearing things.

The shock of being dragged off, the slap to the face, and the rescue, was just too much for Reign, shock won over and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't keep her eyes open.

The leather seat cushioned her fall as she collapsed. 

The first thing she noticed was the comfortable bed. She'd never slept on such a soft luxurious bed before. The kind that molded itself to your curves, supported you, and left you floating in the air. Without thinking she stretched, a long slow stretch followed by an equally deep yawn.

She froze.

She wasn't in her bed and certainly not in her room. She could hear a shower running, and the soft sounds of two people whispering. The curtains were open and the Seattle skyline was covered in the pinks and oranges of dawn. She was downtown, facing the Needle. She wondered if she was in a hotel.

Then it came back, the pain, the shock, the attack, being saved, and it nearly overwhelmed her.

She took a deep breath, checked herself, she was okay, except for the right side of her face where a large purplish bruise had formed. She moved the brown silky sheets off of her, she was still dressed, but her shoes, socks, and jacket were neatly stacked on a chair next to the bed, along with her phone, purse and wallet. The purse was torn.

"Dammit, I liked that purse," she said under her breath.

The sounds from the shower got louder and she froze. The last thing she wanted to do was intrude on the people who saved her life, or find out they were worse than her attackers.

Shit! Shit, my appointment!
It was after eight, she was supposed to be at the lawyers’ office already. She frantically pulled on her shoes when she heard the breathy moan of a woman. She froze again. It got louder, followed by a man’s grunts.

Reign’s face flushed bright red at overhearing the private moments between them.
Well, if I didn’t want to meet them before, I’d die of embarrassment if I met then now.

She finished her shoes, grabbed all her things, and headed for the door when the brown haired girl let out a low, long scream of pleasure, so thick that Reign’s ears burned red and her stomach knotted.

She paused at the door. She was desperate to leave, to run, but the good girl in her couldn't.
I can’t not say thank you,
she though.

She noticed the hotel scratch pad, with its name and address listed at the top. She scribbled a quick thank you, she didn't leave her name; there was no need.

Once out the door, it was just a minute to the packed lobby.  She got a few strange looks from the vacationers, and the upscale business people who frequented the Weston. It certainly was one of Seattle's nicer hotels, and Reign fit in there as well as a wild dog. It took every ounce of self-control not to run for the door as soon as it was in sight.

Once outside she got her bearings. She pulled up the appointment on her phone, she had ten minutes to get there, and her phone told her it was a twenty minute walk.

She ran.

Four blocks and one rain storm later, she arrived at the Law Office of Campbell, Watts, and Willis, on the fifteenth floor of the Mercer building. Its decor, leather furniture, and certified copies of Rembrandts all made it a world class business lobby.

Currently, the waiting room was full of girls, all who were willing to be surrogates for couples who could not conceive, at least for the right price.

Each of them were dressed in their best, though if they could afford nice clothes, they wouldn’t be in need of the lucrative money surrogacy offered.

Reign burst through the door, clothes soaked and disheveled, her hair a complete mess. Under the wetness of the rain, she was sweating, and of course it'd been more than twenty four hours since she put on deodorant. One of the girls chuckled as she walked to the receptionist desk.

"Anna Reign, to see Naomi Willis?"

The receptionist smiled, handed Reign a form to fill out.

"The interviews are done in order of arrival dear, I'm afraid you'll be last, here's the key to the bathroom if you'd like to freshen up."

She said it with no sarcasm or judgment, perhaps a little pity.

One by one, the other girls were called in, each interview lasted about fifteen minutes, and the girls left smiling, each so sure they were going to get the job.

This would be Reign's fourth interview since she turned eighteen. It wasn't that she was eager to have a child, she just really needed the money. What surprised her the most was how competitive it was.

Most girls worked the husband, flirting with him, giving him the doe eyes, trying to sway him into wanting her to carry his child. Even though there was no sex involved, men still liked the idea of a woman carrying his baby.

Reign couldn't do that, she wasn't trying to sell herself, and using sex to sell the surrogacy felt more like being a hooker than a surrogate. What she did need was the money, and she needed it fast.

If she were to get pregnant soon, she could deliver this year, and apply and pay for music school starting the following winter. That was the dream.