Accidental Surrogate -Cora
It’s hours, hours later when I finally have a moment to step back and breathe. And when I do, I feel my
head spin and stumble back a step or two. Roger is there, instantly, his hand on my back.
“Cora,” he says, pulling me closer to him, tilting up my face so that he can study me. “Are you all right?
You’re – ”
“I’m fine,” I mutter, frustrated, trying to push away and get back to work. I have a moment to breathe,
but honestly there’s so much more that – needs to be done for these men –
“No,” Roger says, stubborn. “You’re pushing yourself too far – you’re pregnant, Cora -”
“Roger,” I sigh, turning to glare at him in earnest now and putting a hand on his chest. “This cannot be
the refrain that I hear for the next nine – or six or however many months, all right? I am not going to
stop doing my job-stop healing people – just because I’m pregnant.”
I hear Roger begin to growl in protest but I lock my teeth together, staring up at him, hard. And, slowly, I
see him start to relent, to remember the person who he chose as his mate.
“This is my life, Roger,” I whisper, ” my identity. I’m a doctor – I made an oath! I’m going to help them.”
“All right,” he replies, taking a step back. “But Cora, please -”
“I know,” I say, nodding and starting to look around the room. “I’ll be careful – I’ll stop before I’m totally
exhausted. I won’t put myself or the baby at risk.”
“And how close are you to exhaustion now?” he asks, looking me over from top to bottom, his eyes
pausing on my stomach.
I take a moment to pause, closing my eyes and checking in with myself. Honestly, I’m not far off – but
there’s still so much that these men need. Honestly the extent of the burns that they came in with some
of them down to the bone – I cringe to even think of it.
“Can I…” I hear Roger ask, and then when I look up at him again I feel him place his hand against my
stomach.
“Okay,” I breathe, nodding a little as I agree to stay still so he can check in on the baby. Roger closes
his eyes and concentrates and I’m a little sorry as I see that it’s hard for him. I remember the way that
Sinclair communicated with Rafe while Ella was pregnant it seemed…simpler.
Roger has much more connection with the baby when he’s touching me and when he concentrates,
but…I do wish it was easier for him. I want him to have the full fatherhood experience, with all of its
blessings. And it breaks my heart that my body – my humanness has taken a little of that away from
him.
“Baby’s okay,” Roger murmurs, opening his eyes and leaning forward to press his lips against my
forehead. ” Just…let’s not push, all right?”
“Okay,” I agree, nodding. And then I turn to him fully, peering at some of the red skin on his face. “How
is your healing going?”
“Slow,” he murmurs, his voice not much more than a growl. “Much slower than usual. Like whatever
that priest did to hurt us like this had its own curse attached.”
I nod, listening, and then turn my attention to Roger’s forearms, which were the worst blistered. Slowly,
I unwrap the bandage on one and he hisses at the pain of it. I get a brief glimpse of the skin below
before I wrap him back up. “You’re healing,” I say, looking up at him, “but yes, the pace is …worse than
what I would have hoped for a werewolf. Especially one of your abilities.”
“It will be all right,” he sighs, I think being brave for me. As Roger puts a sweet, concerned hand on the
side of my face, Ella comes over. “Cora,” she whispers, glancing around the room. “What can I do?”
I turn to her, my poor tired sister, and open my arms out, inviting her in for a hug which she happily
accepts. “How is Sinclair?” I ask, looking to the corner of the room where her mate naps lightly, Rafe
secure in his arms even as he sleeps. Sinclair’s burns were worse than Rogers, but likewise superficial
compared to some that their men faced. Only the two men who waited outside of the sewer came out
unscathed.
“I think he’s all right,” Ella replies when she pulls away from me. “More his pride hurt than anything, and
he’s frustrated,” she says, giving a chagrined little smile to Roger. “I know you guys are disappointed
that the priest got away.”
“Such a missed opportunity,” Roger murmurs, shaking his head. “And he burned all of his supplies on
his way out, along with us, so we don’t have much information from the misadventure either.” He sighs,
full of regret.
“Your dad seems to be optimistic about the interviews,” I point out, nodding towards where Henry is
rolling between the beds, speaking kindly to any of the men who are conscious and willing to report
what they heard and saw. “He’s sure you’ll get something good out of it.”
“Not enough to compensate our losses,” Roger murmurs, looking around. “We are so…so lucky that
everyone came out alive.”
Alive, I think, but certainly not unscathed. Roger and Sinclair, I suspect, came out of the situation
relatively unharmed because of their genetics. As with the size of their wolves, their access to some of
the other wolf powers – increased sense of smell, quick reflexes, the ability to heal – are likewise
amplified. I wonder if, really, that ability to heal is what saved them their bodies burned out their magic
working to protect their skin and, because they have what can best be described as more magic, they
came out with minor burns while some of the others…
I go a little pale as I look around and realize, again, that some of these men will bear these scars for
life, and at least three will require major reconstructive surgery. As soon as possible.
And, as much as Roger won’t want to hear it….there’s really only one person who is best going to be
able to perform those surgeries. I’m still wondering how best to bring this up when Ella produces the
perfect lead-in for me.
“Cora,” she says, wiping a hand across her brow. “Are you all right? Are you tired?” I fight my instinct to
point out that Ella, as a nursing mother, has just at much at stake in her exhaustion as me, but instead I
take up the thread.
“I can keep going for a little bit,” I say, holding her gaze. She has been such a good, stalwart little nurse
today honestly, I think she missed a bit of her calling in not going into that field. ” But I’m not going to be
able to keep going all night. And some of these men they’re going to need extended care.”
Ella bites her lip and nods, understanding, glancing between me and Roger. “What should we do?” she
turns to Sinclair. “Should we wake him? Ask him if he has ideas?”
“No,” I say, reaching out to take Ella’s hand as she impulsively begins to move towards her mate.
“Honestly, Ella,” I say, and then I turn to Roger, because my words are actually addressed to him. “We
need…more help. We need more hands.”
Roger instantly sees the direction that my thoughts are heading in and his eyes go dark, narrowing at
me. “No way in hell,” he snaps, starting to shake his head. “Roger,” I plead, moving close to him. “Don’t
make this about jealousy – we need him – ”
“Need who?” Ella asks, confused.
“Hank,” I say, turning towards her and sighing. “We need Hank.”
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