Chosen To Be The Alpha's Surrogate

**I Penelope I**

Jax's presence fills every corner of the room, overwhelming my senses and making it hard to breathe. For a moment, neither of us moves. The space between us feels charged, like the air before lightning strikes. Then, suddenly, he takes a deliberate step forward. His eyes-still holding a hint of that wild, protective fury-never leave mine as he continues to move closer, each movement careful and measured like a predator stalking its prey.

"I wanted to check on you," he says, his voice low and rough with something that makes my pulse flutter. "Make sure you're okay."

"I'm fine," I say too quickly, the words tumbling out breathless and unconvincing. I turn away, desperately seeking something to do with my trembling hands. I grab a pillow, needlessly adjusting it on the bed. "You don't need to worry about me."

"Don't do that." His words crack like a whip through the tension, making my fingers freeze on the silk pillowcase. "Don't try to dismiss me. Not after what happened today."

I force myself to face him, though every instinct screams at me to keep my distance. The sight of him-still radiating that raw, protective power-makes my breath catch. "What do you want me to say, Jax?"

"The truth would be a start." He moves closer with that fluid grace that reminds me of his wolf form, all controlled power and lethal intent. I find myself retreating until cool plaster meets my back. "Stop pretending you don't feel anything everytime I'm close to you."

"I chose Malachi," I say, lifting my chin even as my voice wavers. My hand moves instinctively to my swollen belly, both a shield and a reminder. "I'm having his child." Jax's eyes flash, the storm-blue bleeding to molten gold. The change sends a shiver down my spine-not of fear, but of something far more dangerous. "And yet your body calls to mine." He closes the distance between us, bracing his hands on either side of my head. His scent-earth and pine made sharper by lingering adrenaline wraps around me like a physical touch. "Your scent changes when I'm near. Your heart races.” His head dips closer, nose trailing along my jaw. "Tell me I'm wrong."

“No,” I whisper, but my treacherous body betrays me, swaying toward his heat like a flower seeking sun. Him being this close makes my head spin, every breath filling my lungs with his intoxicating scent.

"No?" His lips brush the shell of my ear, sending sparks of electricity dancing across my skin. "Then why are you trembling?"

Before I can form a response, his mouth captures mine. The kiss is nothing like the gentle almost-moments we've shared before. This is raw possession, primal claiming, need so fierce it steals my breath. His lips move against mine with desperate intensity, drawing a whimper from my throat that I barely recognize as my own.

I'm supposed to stop this. I'm supposed to stop him. And though I know this, in my heart, my body won't let me. It's as if I'm not in control.

And frankly, I'm not sure I want to be.

*What about Malachi? What about your son's father?*

For a flicker of a moment, my hands come up to his chest, fully intending to push him away. But the moment my palms meet solid muscle, feel the thundering of his heart through the thin cotton, my resolve crumbles. My fingers curl into the fabric instead, caught between pulling him closer and maintaining that last fragile thread of resistance.

He groans against my mouth, the sound vibrating through me like thunder. His hands slide down my sides with agonizing slowness, leaving trails of fire in their wake until they settle on my hips. The heat of his palms brands me through my dress as he pulls me flush against him, eliminating what little space remained between us. Every point of contact sends electricity skittering across my skin, making me hyper-aware of every inch where our bodies meet.

"Jax," I gasp as his mouth leaves mine, but I don't even know what I'm trying to say. Stop? Don't stop? The words tangle on my tongue, lost in the sensation of his lips trailing down my neck.

My head falls back against the wall of its own accord, giving him better access. The rational part of my mind screams that this is wrong, that I should stop this, but my body has other ideas. Each brush of his lips draws small sounds from my throat that I hardly recognize as my own.

When he reaches Malachi's mark, he freezes for a heartbeat. The growl that rumbles through his chest is pure wolf-possessive, challenging, primal. The sound shoots straight through me, making my knees weak and my pulse race. His grip on my hips tightens, as if he can sense my unsteadiness.

Then he bites down.

The sensation explodes through me like wildfire. I cry out, my back arching off the wall as pleasure and pain twist together into something overwhelming. It's different from when Malachi marked me this feels ancient, inevitable, like pieces of a puzzle finally clicking into place. My legs give out entirely, but his grip keeps me upright, pinned between his body and the wall.

Suddenly, a sharp knock shatters the moment like glass. "Penelope?" Rook's voice cuts through the haze of sensation. "Are you alright?"

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The door opens before either of us can move. Rook stands frozen in the doorway, taking in the scene my back against the wall, Jax's mouth on my neck, my hands still fisted in his shirt. The evidence of what we've been doing is written in every detail- my kiss-swollen lips, the mark Jax has surely left over Malachi's, the way we're pressed together like we're trying to merge into one being.noveldrama

*Oh, no... Oh, God, no...*

"I'll... come back," Rook stammers, already stepping back.

"N-No!" The word tears from my throat, desperate and pleading. I push against Jax's chest, harder this time. "Don't go."

*Please don't leave me alone with him. I don't trust myself. I don't trust what I'll let happen.*

No longer having a choice, Jax pulls back with excruciating slowness, every movement deliberately controlled. But his eyes, when they meet mine, burn with such intensity it makes my breath catch in my throat. That look speaks volumes of unfinished business, of promises yet to be fulfilled, of a hunger that won't be denied forever. My body aches at the loss of contact even as my mind screams in relief.

He backs away, but there's nothing submissive in his retreat. Every movement is still predatory, still claiming. At the door, he pauses, giving me one last heated look that makes heat pool low in my belly despite everything.

I can read it as if he were saying it aloud: *This isn't over. Not by a long shot.*

Then he's gone, and my legs finally give out. I slide down the wall, my heart thundering against my ribs like it might break free. My skin feels too tight, too sensitive, aware of every place his hands and lips have branded me.

"Are you alright?" Rook asks softly, his voice carefully neutral.

I look up at him, and suddenly the magnitude of what just happened crashes over me

like a wave. Tears spring to my eyes as Malachi's face flashes through my mind his gentle smile, his absolute trust in me, the love that shines in his eyes whenever he looks at me.

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*What have I done?*

I blink hard, trying to force back the tears that threaten to fall. Swallow past the lump

that feels like it might choke me.

"I want to go home," I whisper desperately.

My hand comes up to the moonfire opal against my chest, feeling heavy with the constant reminder of who I am who I'm supposed to be. My fingers shift then, touching Malachi's mark. It still tingles from Jax's bite, and hate myself for wanting both. For being too weak to resist this pull, too selfish to stay faithful to the man I love.

Rook's expression softens as he watches me crumple against the wall. For a brief moment, I see genuine compassion in his eyes-the look of a brother who understands my pain, who wishes he could shield me from it. He takes a step toward me, his movement gentle as he crouches down to my level.

"Penny," he says softly, using the nickname only Malachi has ever called me. The familiarity of it makes fresh tears spill over.

Then, like a cloud passing over the sun, his features harden. His jaw sets in a determined line, and when he speaks again, his voice carries the unmistakable authority of an Alpha.

"You are home," he says firmly, no room for argument in his tone. "This is where you belong. With your true mate. With your people." His eyes-so like my own-meet mine unflinchingly. "The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be for everyone." The finality in his words settles over me suffocatingly. I look away, unable to bear the certainty in his gaze or the truth I'm not ready to face: that maybe he's right. *Maybe this is home now.*

But as I sit there with my fingers still pressed to Malachi's mark, I wonder why home feels so much like betrayal.