Chosen To Be The Alpha's Surrogate

**I Malachi I**

The afternoon sun streams through the windows of my office, casting a warm glow on the polished wood and leather. I sit at my desk, a stack of papers in front of me, but my mind churns with the events of last night.

Penelope's betrayal stings more than I care to admit. The fact that she would go behind my back, digging my private affairs like some common sneak thief... it cuts deep. I want to be angry, to hold onto the righteous fury that had flooded through me when I caught her red-handed.

But even as I try to stoke the flames of my rage, I find them sputtering, doused by a reluctant wave of understanding.

Penelope... she's not like the women I'm used to dealing with. She's not some simpering submissive little thing, content to follow orders and keep her nose out of the dirty business of men.

*Can I really blame her?*

The girl grew up an orphan, scraping for every scrap of control she could grasp. She's never had to answer to anyone but herself. Donovan? That limp-dicked fuck, he wasn't any kind of leader. He wasn't a real man. He couldn't command respect if his life depended on it.

So of course she'd bristle at the idea of submitting to anyone, of bowing her proud little head to the will of a true Alpha.

With a sigh, I push back from my desk, my desk, a new resolve in my gut. I need to find Penelope, to clear the air between us before this festering wound has a chance to turn into resentment.

Her scent leads me to her bedroom, the door slightly ajar. I pause, my knuckles raised to knock when I hear it: the soft splash of water, the liquid shift of bubbles. *She's in the bath.*

A slow smile curls my lips, the soft scent of her floral fragrance making my cock twitch in my pants. My mind floods with images of her naked and wet, her skin flushed pink from the heat. I feel a growl building in my chest, the primal urge to barge in there and claim her.

But I force it down, clenching my fists at my sides.

*Focus, asshole.*

I rap my knuckles once against the door, more out of cursory politeness than any real expectation of an answer. When none is forthcoming, I let myself in, striding through the bedroom and into the en-suite with predatory intent. The room is warm and steamy, the air heavy with the scent of lavender and vanilla. And there, in the huge sunken tub that dominates the far wall, is Penelope.

She's reclining against the sloped back, her eyes closed and her head tipped back in relaxation. The bubbles have almost completely dissipated, leaving her body bare to my gaze.

*Fuck, she's gorgeous.*

As if sensing my presence, her eyes flutter open, widening in surprise when she sees me standing there. Quickly, she sits up, sloshing water over the sides of the tub in her haste to cover herself. "Malachi!" she squeaks, her cheeks flushing a delicious shade of pink. "What are you...I didn't hear you knock!"

"Apologies," I drawl, not sounding the least bit sorry as I prowl closer with a smirk curling my lips. "But I find myself in need of a little chat. You don't mind, do you, sweetheart?"

She opens her mouth, clearly torn between outrage and embarrassment. But before she can muster a protest, I sink down on the edge of the tub, making it clear I'm not going anywhere.

She hugs her knees as close to her chest as she can, a futile attempt at modesty, her eyes trained studiously on the swirling bathwater.

We sit in loaded silence for a moment before I speak, my voice low and measured.

"About last night."

She flinches, hunching it on herself. "I'm sorry," she whispers, misery threading through her voice. "I know I shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't have snooped."

"No," I agree, keeping my tone carefully neutral. "You shouldn't have. But I understand why you did."

Slowly, she raises her gaze to mine, a question in her big, hazel green eyes.

I sigh, scrubbing a hand over my jaw. "This... all of this... it's new to you. Overwhelming. I get it."

I lean forward, bracing my elbows on my knees as I pin her with an intent stare. "Penelope, you need to understand something. My world, the rules I play by... they're not optional. When I give an order, I expect it to be obeyed. No questions asked."

She swallows hard, a muscle ticking in her delicate throat. "I know I do. It's just..."

"Just what?" I prompt, an edge creeping into my voice. "Tell me what's going on in that pretty little head of yours."

She hesitates, doubt and determination warring on her face. Then, it's as if a dam breaks and the words come pouring out of her.

"I feel like a pawn," she confesses, her voice small and wavering. "Like this baby, our child, is just a means to an end for you. A way to secure your power."

Her words wash over me, my breath stalling in my lungs.

*Is that what she thinks of me? That I see her as nothing more than a convenient vessel for my ambitions?*

...

*I really made a mess of this.*

I want to deny it, to tell her she's got it all wrong. But the truth is... she's not entirely off base. When this all started, when I first learned of the child she carried, *my* child... I saw an opportunity. A chance to finally claim what was rightfully mine, to ascend to my true place as ruler of the packs.

But somewhere along the way, something changed. *She* changed *me*.

Slowly, haltingly, I reach for her, brushing a damp curl back from her cheek with a tenderness that feels foreign and clumsy.

"You're not wrong," I rasp, the admission scraping like broken glass in my throat. "When I first learned of the pregnancy... I won't lie to you, Penny. I saw an advantage. A card to play."

She flinches, her eyes squeezing shut as if to block out my words. But I press on, needing her to hear this, to understand.

"But that's not how I see you now... or how I feel about you."

Her eyes flutter open, wary hope warring with disbelief. "How do you feel about me?"

I exhale deeply, the words sticking like tar to my tongue. Fucking hell, I'm no good at this shit. Give me a rival to crush, an enemy to eviscerate, and I'm in my element. But baring my soul to this slip of a woman? It's like asking a wolf to perform Swan Lake.

*But for her... for our child... I'll try.*

"I...I care for you," I grit out, the words rusty and unfamiliar. "More than I ever intended to. More than I probably should."

I cup her jaw, my thumb grazing the plush bow of her lip. "You're not just an incubator to me, Penelope. You're... fuck, I don't know what you are. But you're *mine*. And I protect what's mine."

She stares at me, her eyes huge and luminous, a sheen of tears clouding them. "Malachi..."

I lean in, my forehead resting against hers, our breath mingling in the scant space between us.

"I'm going to keep you safe," I vow, my voice low and fierce. "You and our son. I swear it on my life."

A single tear streaks down her cheek and I catch it with my thumb, brushing it gently away.

She nods, a fragile smile trembling on her lips. "I believe you."

The trust, the faith shining out of her... it's humbling. Terrifying. I'm not sure I deserve it. But fuck if I won't spend every day trying to live up to it.

"Good," I rasp, sealing the vow with a soft, chaste kiss to her forehead before pulling back.

Clearing my throat, I straighten, trying to marshal my unruly emotions back into some semblance of order.

"Now, as for why I came to find you in the first place..."

She blinks, clearly thrown by the sudden shift in my tone. "Oh?"

I flash her a roguish grin, enjoying the way her cheeks pink in response. "We're going shopping, little rabbit. You and me."

Her brow furrows, confusion scrawled across her expressive face. "Shopping? For what?"

"For you," I clarify, rising to my feet and extending a hand to help her out of the tub. She takes it gingerly, allowing me to tug her up, rivulets of water sluicing over her curvy form. *Fuck. Down boy.*

Reining in my baser impulses, I reach for a towel, draping it over her shoulders before she can start shivering.

"There's a banquet tonight," I explain, watching her clutch the towel to her chest. "And I want you by my side."