Accidental Surrogate for Alpha novel Chapter 129

Ella

“What the hell are you doing?” The Prince snaps, his usually cold features alight with rage.He storms forward, aggression pouring off him in waves.

“Nothing!” Lydia squeaks, whirling around and adopting an innocent expression. “I–she…” The she-wolf stammers, red faced and shaking.

“You’re the one who went on and on about leaving the bitch unharmed so as not to further provoke Dominic!” Prince Damon rumbles furiously. He looks down at me with cold disinterest, and I immediately recognize that I’m dealing with two very different kind of monsters here. Lydia is pure cunning and lacks any sense of conscious, she’ll do anything and hurt anyone to achieve her goals. The Prince however, he gives off the energy of a man who enjoys hurting others – not as a means to an end, but for the pure pleasure it inspires.

I look back to Lydia, still too angry to bite my tongue and wanting his attention anywhere but on me. “Or maybe she just meant those rules for you. I get the sense she expects special treatment – even above royalty.”

I watch as my word lands, feeling more than a little smug when Prince Damon sneers. “Leave us.”

Lydia gapes, horrified to be ordered away. “But–”

“I said leave.” He repeats fiercely. Lydia hurries out grumbling under her breath, and my heart clenches with newfound anxiety. Maybe it was my inner wolf, but I felt the strongest compulsion to challenge Lydia, to establish dominance. Of course, I feel no respect for the Prince, but my instincts warn me that he has no qualms about hurting me. In fact, I’m sure he would enjoy it. Lydia might want to harm me, but she attempted to show restraint in the interest of avoiding Sinclair’s wrath, but I have the impression the Prince has never had an impulse he didn’t indulge.

At the same time, I don’t want to show him any weakness. Next to Sinclair, he’s nothing, and the more my wolf comes out, the more determined I feel not to submit to anyone but my mate. So instead of cowering, I give him my defiance. Notching my chin up, I glare at the despicable man. “This won’t work, you know.” I tell him, wondering if I’ve lost my mind. “Dominic will never give up the campaign for me.”

“You doubt his devotion so much?” prince Damon remarks, arching a brow.

“Would you have given up the throne to save your mate?” I ask curiously, a new idea occurring to me now. If I can sow discord between Lydia and the Prince, maybe I can distract them enough to escape. He doesn’t have any clue that Lydia is probably responsible for the Princess’s death, but if anything could tear them apart – that will.

“Of course not – but Dominic is a sentimental fool.” The Prince chortles to himself.“We are a completely different caliber of wolf.”

“I agree.” I state simply, knowing he probably won’t catch the inference that my mate is far superior. “Though I am sorry for your loss.” I share, channeling the sympathy I feel for his motherless children, if not for himself. “It was such a shocking death – and poison!” I exclaim. “What kind of man deploys such a cowardly weapon? Do you have any leads on the suspect?” I worry I might be laying it on too thick, but when he doesn’t bat an eye, I know I need to press harder.

“I’m not here to talk about Angeline.” He grits out, beginning to pace back and forth in front of me. “And if you think you can help yourself by playing on my own loss, you’re sorely mistaken.”

“That wasn’t my intention.” I refute honestly. “I just thought it was interesting that she was killed in such a feminine manner.”

“Feminine?” He repeats, bewildered. “Are you saying you think a woman killed her?” His eyes narrow and too late I realize that he’ll probably assume I’m trying to take credit, “You?”

“Of course not!” I hold up my hands. “I’ve been on bed rest, and besides, why would I help your campaign? I don’t stand to gain anything by making you a winner.”

I hope I’ve said enough to get the gears working in his tiny brain. I don’t want to come out and accuse Lydia. He’ll assume I'm making things up to distract him or help myself somehow. Of course, that’s exactly what I’m doing, but it’s also true. He needs to reach the conclusion on his own.

“Then who?” He inquires, as if I’m not the one who’s been asking the questions.

“Well, who would benefit?” I ask simply, folding my hands in my lap. I try to telepathically force Lydia’s name into his thoughts, but I’m not sure it’s successful.