Chosen To Be The Alpha's Surrogate

**I Penelope I**

His hands trace fire across my skin, leaving trails of electricity in their wake. Moonlight streams through gauzy curtains, casting shadows that dance across the planes of his chest. My fingers map the contours of his muscles, memorizing every ridge, every valley. "Princess," Jax murmurs against my throat, his breath hot against my pulse. The pet name sends shivers down my spine, different now, more intense. His teeth graze my skin-not quite a bite, but a promise.

My body arches into his touch of its own accord, betraying my mind's weak protests. His scent-earth and pine and raw masculinity-surrounds me, filling my lungs until I'm drowning in him.

"Let me mark you," he growls, the words vibrating against my racing heart. "Let me make you mine."

*Yes. Please, yes.*

Everything in me screams. The pull between us is magnetic, inevitable. His lips brush my neck, right where a mate mark would go, and-

I jolt awake with a gasp, my heart thundering against my ribs. Sweat plasters my nightgown to my skin, and my hands shake as I push damp hair from my face. The baby kicks restlessly, responding to my distress. "It's okay," I whisper, rubbing soothing circles over my swollen belly. "Just a dream. It was just a dream."

But the lie tastes bitter on my tongue. Because it wasn't just a dream-it was a promise fulfilled. "*I'll see you in them," he'd said. And there he was, invading even my sleep.

The sheets feel suffocating, too hot against my flushed skin. I struggle to my feet, needing to move, to breathe, to escape the phantom sensations still ghosting across my skin. *Malachi.*

His name rings in my head desperately, pressing my fingers to his mate mark. But the connection feels distant, muted.

Tears burn in my eyes as guilt crashes over me.

*How can I dream of another man when my mate is out there somewhere, probably tearing himself apart trying to find me?*

Sleep seems impossible now, and I figure maybe some warm milk will help settle my nerves. It's what I used to turn to even before I was with Donovan.

The halls are quiet at this hour, my bare feet silent against the cool marble floors. Moonlight streams through tall windows, creating pools of silver that guide my way to the kitchen. I'm so lost in thought that I don't notice I'm not alone until a voice breaks the silence.

"Can't sleep?"

I jump, startled, spinning to find Rook leaning against the counter. He's dressed casually in sleep pants and a t-shirt, looking more like my brother and less like the intimidating Alpha he usually portrays.

"Bad dreams," I say vaguely, moving to the refrigerator. I refuse to meet his eyes, afraid he might read the truth in them.

"Ah." There's something in his tone that makes me think he knows more than he's letting on. "Warm milk?"

I nod, surprised at his guess. He moves toward me, taking the milk from my hands and pouring it into a saucepan. The domestic normality of the moment strikes me as absurd-my kidnapper-turned-brother making me warm milk in the middle of the night.

As we wait for the milk to warm, he reaches for something around his neck. "Here," he says after a moment. "I've been meaning to give you this."

Moonlight catches on metal as he lifts a chain over his head. A pendant dangles from it-intricate silver work surrounding a stone that seems to capture and hold the moonlight, making it dance like trapped starfire.

"It was our mother's," Rook says softly, holding it out to me. "She gave it to me the night of the attack, made me promise to keep it safe for you..." His voice catches. "She wanted you to have it."

My hands shake slightly as I take it. The stone pulses faintly against my palm, as if recognizing something in my blood.

"It's beautiful," I whisper, running my thumb over the delicate metalwork. "What kind of stone is this?"

"Moonfire opal," Rook says, stirring the warming milk. "Very rare. It's said they only form in places where the strongest wolf packs live." He pours the milk into a mug, adds a hint of honey. "It's been passed down through our family for generations. From queen to princess, mother to daughter."

My head snaps up at his words. "Queen? Princess?"

Rook's expression tightens, and I can see him wrestling with something internal for a moment.

"You deserve to know the truth," he says finally, setting the mug in front of me. "About who you are. Who *we* are."

"Then tell me," I demand, my fingers curling around the pendant. "I want to know, Rook. Please."

He runs a hand through his hair, a gesture so like my own that it catches me off guard. "Our father," he starts, his voice heavy with emotion, "was Alpha of the Northern Warrior Tribe. But he wasn't just any Alpha-he was the Warrior King, chosen by the Council to be the next Continental King."

*That's why...*

My thoughts drift briefly to Jax. How he claimed he was rightfully calling me 'princess'.

"What happened to him?"

"He was murdered," Rook says, his voice hard with old pain. "The night of the attack. They killed our mother too, destroyed our pack. Those who survived scattered to the winds." His eyes meet mine, filled with a mix of grief and fierce pride. "But they didn't get us. You disappeared. And I... I was taken in by another pack."

"Why?" I whisper, my voice breaking. "Why did they attack us?"

"Politics. Power. The same things that threaten us now." He reaches across the counter, his fingers brushing mine. "You're not just my sister, Penelope. You're the daughter of the Warrior King, rightful heir to powers and privileges that were stolen from us that night."

I shake my head, overwhelmed. "Is that why you brought me here? To reclaim some lost throne?"

"I brought you here to protect you," he insists. "But yes, also to give you back what's rightfully yours. This island, this pack-it's all part of our heritage. And Jax..." He pauses, watching my reaction carefully. "Jax is part of that too." "Don't," I warn, but he continues.

"He's your true mate for a reason, Penelope. The Northern tribes believed true mates were chosen by powers beyond us, that such bonds were sacred. The fact that you've found each other now, when everything is aligning..." He trails off, his meaning clear.

"I love Malachi," I say, but the words sound weak even to my own ears.

"I know you do," Rook says gently. "But you belong here, sister. With your family, with your true mate, with your people. It's where you were always meant to be."

I stare down at the necklace in my palm, at the stone that seems to pulse in time with my heartbeat. Everything I thought I knew about myself has been upended, replaced with a legacy I never knew I carried.

"I need time," I whisper, though I'm not sure what I'm asking for time to process my heritage, my true mate, or the growing certainty that my life is constantly changing that I can never seem to catch up.

Rook nods, understanding in his eyes. "Take all the time you need. But wear the necklace-it's yours now. It was always meant to be yours."

As I slip the chain over my head, the stone settles against my chest like it belongs there. Like it's been waiting all this time to come home.

Just like me.