Chosen To Be The Alpha's Surrogate

**I Malachi I**

Frosting drips down my face, the sticky sweetness mingling with the bitter taste of shock on my tongue. For a moment, I can only stare at Penelope, my mind struggling to process what just happened. *She smashed cake on my face.*

...

*My mate, my pregnant omega, just smeared frosting on my fucking face in a fit of hormone-driven rage.*

Disbelief wars with the hot surge of anger in my chest. If it had been anyone else, anyone else who dared to show such blatant disrespect, they'd already be on the ground, choking on their own blood and teeth. But this is Penelope. *My* Penelope.

I watch as realization dawns on her face, the fury in her hazel eyes slowly giving way to fear. She takes a step back, then another, her hands coming up to shield her rounded belly.

*Good. She should be afraid. She should know better than to provoke an Alpha, especially her own mate.*

I stalk towards her, matching her step by step until her back hits the balcony railing. There's nowhere for her to go, nowhere to hide from the intensity of my gaze. I can smell her nervousness, the acrid tang of it mixing with the sugar-sweet scent of frosting and cake.

She seems to shrink before me, her shoulders hunching inward, her chin ducking down. It's a submissive posture, an instinctive attempt to placate the angry predator looming over her.

*But she's never been one to cower, has she? Not even in the face of an enraged Alpha.*

Unbidden, the memory of that night months ago surfaces in my mind. The night she went through my phone, invading my privacy, challenging my authority. I was furious then, ready to tear the world apart for her audacity.

But beneath that anger, there was something else. Something like respect, even admiration for her sheer fucking gall.

It takes a special kind of bravery to stand up to an Alpha, to push back against our inherent dominance. And Penelope, for all her human frailty, has that bravery in spades.

*She's not weak. She's not broken. She's the strongest fucking person I know.*

The thought cools the rage simmering in my blood, allowing me to see past the red haze of my wounded pride and ego.

She's watching me warily, her lower lip caught between her teeth, her eyes wide. "Malachi?" she whispers, her voice small and uncertain.

*I would never hurt her, angry as I may be.*

...

*But she doesn't know that.*

I take another step, closing the distance between us until I can feel the heat of her body, the soft swell of her stomach pressing against my abs. I lean down, bringing my face level with hers, our noses almost touching. "I-I'm sorry," she breathes. "I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry."

For a long moment, I simply stare at her, letting her squirm under the weight of my gaze. I can practically taste her anxiety.

*Good. Let her wonder what I'm going to do. Let her feel the consequences of provoking an apex predator.*

But even as the thought crosses my mind, I feel my lips twitch, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.

*Damn it, I can't even stay mad at her. Not when she's looking at me like that, all wide-eyed and contrite.*

Slowly, deliberately, I reach up to swipe a finger through the frosting on my cheek. Penelope flinches, her breath catching in her throat, but she doesn't look away.

With a wicked grin, I smear the frosting on the tip of her nose, chuckling at the startled look on her face. "Malachi, what-"

I don't let her finish. In one smooth motion, I wrap my arms around her, pulling her flushed against my chest. She squeaks, her hands coming up to brace against my shoulders as I nuzzle my face against hers, smearing cake and frosting across her cheeks and chin.

"You're a brat, you know that?" I growl playfully, my lips brushing the shell of her ear. "A stubborn, infuriating, *gorgeous* brat."

She shivers, her nails digging into my skin through the fabric of my shirt. "And you're an overprotective, domineering ass," she retorts, but there's no heat in her words, only a breathless sort of laughter.

I pull back just far enough to look at her, taking in the mess I've made of her face. She's covered in chocolate and crumbs, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright with a mix of relief and residual anger. *She's adorable.*

...

*Fuck, now I want her.*

"You're a mess," I tease her, leaning into her, my lips brushing against her own. "I think we both need to get cleaned up, don't you?"

She stills for a moment, and I can hear the stuttering of her heart. "What did you have in mind?" she asks, feeding into my play.

I pull back once more, a small smirk playing on my lips. "A bath," I murmur, my hands sliding down her sides to settle on the flare of her hips. "You, me, and the tub full of those bubbles you like so much. What do you say, little rabbit? Why don't you let me clean you up?"

Her breath hitches, her pupils dilating with unmistakable arousal. "I thought I was supposed to be on bed rest," she reminds me, but there's a teasing lilt to her voice, a coy invitation in the way she presses closer.

"Oh, you'll be resting all right," I promise darkly, my fingers flexing against her soft curves. "Resting on my lap while I make sure to wash...every...single...inch of you."

She bites her lip, a pretty blush staining her cheeks. "And what about after?" she asks, all faux-innocence and barely suppressed mischief. "Once we're clean, wet, and slippery?"

I lean in, nipping at her earlobe, savoring her sharp intake of breath. "Then I'll just have to get you dirty all over again," I rasp, my cock already thickening at the thought of burying myself in that tight, sweet pussy of hers. "Over and over, until you're too fucked out to even *think* about leaving that bed."

A low moan escapes her, her hips rocking instinctively against mine. "Promises, promises," she breathes, her fingers toying with the short hairs at the nape of my neck. "You know I don't like to be kept waiting, *Alpha*."

*Fuck.*

The way she says my title, like a purr and a challenge all rolled into one...it sets my blood on fire, makes the wolf in me howl with the need to *claim, take, possess*.

"Then, let's not waste any more time," I growl, bending to hook my arm beneath her knees. She yelps as I lift her into a bridal carry, her arms looping around my neck. "I've got a craving only you can satisfy, my stubborn, *perfect* mate." Penelope laughs, a bright, joyful sound that fills up all the empty spaces in my chest. "Well then, by all means," she says, her smile turning wicked and full of promise. "Take me to bed, *big bad wolf*."