The Lion’s Surrogate: A Paranormal Romance (Shifter Surrogate Agency Book 4)

by Layla Silver

  Just after eleven, I was interrupted by a tapping at my doorframe. I looked up to find Dr. Carlton standing in the doorway with an armful of files, her keen eyes scanning the room and assessing the changes I’d made.

  “Dr. Carlton.” I nodded respectfully, then frowned a little. She looked … stressed. “Is everything all right?”

  “Caleb.” She stepped just inside the door. “This looks very nice,” she motioned to the office. “Has IT gotten you up and running in the system?”

  “Yes, ma’am. All good to go, though I’m not scheduled to see any patients until tomorrow.”

  “Yes, well, about that.” She sighed. “I don’t like to throw clients at people their first day, but Dr. Niels has just gone into labor.” She pursed her lips. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to cover a few of her clients today?”

  A thrill went through my chest, and I straightened, eager for a chance to get to work already. “I’d love to.” Being a shifter, I could smell Dr. Carlton’s relief as clearly as I saw it.

  “Excellent.” Walking briskly to my desk, she pulled several files from her stack and dropped them on my desk. Five minutes later, after a crash course in the patient files and a brisk reminder of the tools available to help me get used to the process, she breezed out, leaving me with half an hour to prepare before the first appointment. I made a circuit of the office, double-checking that everything was ready, then dug into the case file.

  My heart went out to the couple instantly. Young and otherwise healthy, physical exam and lab results showed they were both indisputably infertile. The woman, Mrs. Diceson, suffered from complications of polycystic ovary syndrome. Her husband had endured a rare and serious illness in childhood. While he’d fully recovered, the life-saving treatments he’d received had left him sterile. Young, healthy, and financially secure, they were nonetheless denied the one thing they wanted most—children of their own.

  By the time Elton showed them into my office, I was genuinely excited. I stuffed it down, projecting only professional competence as I stood to welcome them, shake their hands, and usher them to the chairs opposite my desk.

  “It’s all negative, isn’t it?” Mrs. Diceson blurted, almost before she was completely seated. Her hands twisted fretfully in her lap. “We can’t have a baby, can we?”

  Nothing like trial by fire, I thought, wryly. Leaning forward, I folded my hands together atop the desk and said sincerely, “you can absolutely have a baby, Mrs. Diceson. Several if you want, even.” I intentionally modulated my tone to that exact blend of confidence and kindness patients always responded to. “You will need donors for both the egg and sperm, as well as a surrogate, but there’s no reason you can’t have a family.”

  “You’re sure?” Mr. Diceson pressed, reaching out to grip one of his wife’s hands. His expression held heartbreaking hope. “We’ve tried so many other things,” he explained, plaintively. “We’re wererats.” A look of pain crossed his face. “The only ones in both our extended families with no children. Coming from large broods and not being able to have our own …” he glanced at his wife as she gave a small, hiccuping sob and fished in her purse for a wad of tissues. “It’s … hard,” he finished, heavily.

  Reaching for the box of tissues conveniently placed on a shelf near my desk, I slid it over to Mrs. Diceson. Then I turned their folder around and slid it closer to them as well, so they could see the reports on top. “The agency has everything you need right now,” I promised. “In fact, there’s no reason why you can’t have a set of twins by next Memorial Day if you want.”

  Mrs. Diceson sniffed, her whole face brightening. My chest tightened to see her perk up, and a swell of gratitude swamped me. I could cure this suffering. I could bring joy and healing here. “May I show you the profile of a surrogate I think might be a great fit for you?”

  The appointment ran over, but my face hurt from smiling so much by the time the Diceon’s left. I could hear Mrs. Diceson bubbling with plans for a nursery as she and her husband walked down the hall back toward the reception office, and I flipped their file shut, more than satisfied.

  Satisfied and starving. It was past the time I’d been scheduled to take lunch, so I set my status to “Away - Lunch” and headed out to grab something to eat. Grabbing a sub from a sandwich place, I sat at one of the outdoor tables, basking in the summer sun and the buzz of other people in the background.

  While I ate, I thought about babies. The babies I was going to help my patients have, the baby Miriam and Chas were soon to have. The warm softness of my brothers’ other kids when they’d been babies. I loved my nieces and nephews—all of them, the boisterous and rambunctious lot that they were. I’d never given much thought to having my own. There just hadn’t been time around school and work to pay for school.

  But I had a stable job now. A good income. Clarence was already keeping an eye out on the real estate market in the corner of town where the rest of my brothers lived, I knew. He had the best eye for houses I’d ever seen; if something good came up, he’d make sure I was the first to know about it. Not that there was anything wrong with my townhouse, of course, but I could start a family now if I wanted. It was an unexpected and tantalizing thought.

  Polishing off the last bite of my sub, I caught my wandering thoughts and snorted at myself. Can’t have cubs until you find your mate.

  Therein lay the rub. If my brothers’ experience was anything to go by, finding your mate was more accident than intention. It wasn’t something you could rush, even if you wanted to. Which I don’t, I reminded myself, gathering up my trash, my uneaten bag of chips, and my bottled water. Realizing I was in a position to start a family wasn’t the same thing as actually being ready to do so.

  I had savings to accrue, a job to excel at, and a family to spend time with now that I wasn’t spending every spare second trying to sleep off the crazy long hours demanded by a medical residency. If my mate was out there, I’d find her in due time. For now, I had other things to focus on. Tossing my trash in the bin, I headed purposefully back to work.

  Chapter 4 – Gemma

  I started awake, my heart pounding in the darkness. The apartment was quiet. The bright red numbers on the alarm clock perched on the bedside stand read 4:45 a.m. Blowing out a breath, I scrubbed my face with my hands. Just a bad dream.

  I should try to go back to sleep. I hadn’t gotten enough since the night I snuck out of the compound. But if I slept, I might dream again. I shuddered, remembering scraps of the nightmare that woke me—Meaghan, in a white lace gown. Brother Markus, taking her as his wife in my place. Because I’d failed, I hadn’t gotten her out, I’d—

  No. It was just a dream. Pushing back the covers, I crawled out of bed and padded toward the kitchen. I would make coffee, I decided. It was an indulgence. I didn’t really have the money for it, but I’d picked some up cheaply on sale. It was half small, indulgent comfort and half emergency pick-me-up when there were too many hours at work and not enough food or sleep to manage them.

  Measuring coffee grounds into the maker, I hit the button to start it brewing. I glanced longingly at the phone, then twisted my hands together and paced away, restless and unsettled. Even after more than a month on my own, it still felt strange not to be able to tiptoe down the hall and peek in on my mother and sisters. To reassure myself they were all right.

  It hurt not to be able to call them. To hear Meaghan’s voice promise me she was safe after I’d dreamed such awful things. But, like the internet, phones were heavily restricted on the compound. There were only a few, all in public and strictly monitored. There was an ancient cell phone, one my father had snuck in before his death, and I’d texted it just once to give Meaghan my number after I got the apartment. I’d made her swear she’d memorize it, then erase the text so the Elders wouldn’t be able to track me if they found the phone.

  It was a last-ditch emergency tool, one meant for them to contact me if the worst happened. Nothing else. Though God only knew what I’d do if
they did call. I could hardly take on the Elders myself, and I had no one else to go to for help.

  The coffee pot beeped, and I headed back toward it. Anger and resolve formed a hard knot in my chest as I fished a mug out of the cabinet and poured my coffee. Carrying the thin, dark brew to the window, I watched the first hints of sunrise edge along the horizon.

  I’ll find a way, I thought, thinking of my pretty, innocent little sisters. I will get you out. Just hold on a little bit longer.

  ***

  My head was still a messy jumble when I made my way down to the bus stop hours later. I knew how to drive, but personal vehicles hadn’t been necessary on the compound and getting a driver’s license been heavily discouraged by the Elders. I could get a license now, and I would. But I couldn’t afford a car any time soon anyway, so worrying about a license had been pushed to the bottom of my endless to-do list.

  Happily, the route to the surrogacy agency using the public transit system wasn’t bad. I’d mapped it all out carefully using a paper copy of the schedule and left earlier than I needed to so I’d have extra time, just in case.

  Climbing onto the bus, I found a seat near the front and smoothed my hands over my dress. It was the nicer of my two outfits, a simple sundress in a light shade of purple. Twisting a lock of hair around my finger nervously, I hoped again that I’d look presentable enough. My dress was modest and clean, and I’d left my hair down because everyone always told me how young I looked when I braided it back. I’d used what few cosmetics I had to hide the shadows under my eyes and to try to make myself look older and more mature. It shouldn’t matter, not really. I was 24, plenty old enough to carry a baby if I wanted to.

  The thought made me shift uncomfortably in my seat. I stared out of the window without seeing anything we passed. Did I want to carry a baby? Could I carry one, maybe even one that was half mine and then … give it away?

  But then, what choice did I have? I had to save my mother and sisters. There was no one else, and I couldn’t live with myself if they were lost as my father had been. I was well and truly backed into a corner.

  It won’t be so bad, I told myself, curling my hands to fists in my lap. It’s not as though I hadn’t dreamed of having cubs of my own someday, when I found my mate. My heart squeezed. What would my mate say if he could see me now? If he knew what I was considering? Would he think me brave, or callous and base?

  I had to, I imagined myself explaining to him, someday. I had to save them. The child went to a good home, brought joy to good people. And we got away.

  He would understand, I promised myself, clutching at the hope desperately. He would. A recorded voice broke through my distraction, announcing we’d reached my stop. Standing on shaky legs, I gripped the overhead bar to steady myself as I inched toward the exit. I could do this.

  Outside, the fresh air settled me a little. I stood on the sidewalk for a long moment, just breathing it in, willing myself to calm. In front of me was a glittering campus of glass-fronted buildings surrounded by spacious flower beds and full parking lots. Everything was new and spotless, with a sleekly modern and professional air. Seeing it in person braced me, somehow, and my steps were steadier as I approached the building directory near the front of the first building. A quick glance told me everything I needed, and I headed for the main door.

  The agency was as impressive inside as it was out. The vaulted reception area was warm, airy, and bright. A water feature trickled soothing noise in the background, and calm seeped in as I made my way toward the large, centrally positioned reception desk.

  The smiling young woman behind the desk was the same Victoria I’d spoken to before, and she was every bit as welcoming in person as she had been on the phone. She walked me through the necessary forms with deft kindness, then pointed me toward the lobby.

  “You’re a little early, but if you want to have a seat, we’ll get you in right on time.”

  “Thank you.” I couldn’t resist the pull of a deep, cushiony chair done in a pretty slate-blue patterned fabric near both the entrance and the burbling waterfall. Sinking into its soft luxury, I glanced around, unable to smother my curiosity about the others who found themselves here.

  I didn’t know what I’d expected, but everyone else lingering in the airy lobby looked … normal. There were men and women of every skin tone, some of them clearly younger than me, a few old enough their hair was shot through with gray. Some of the women were noticeably pregnant. They might be surrogates, I realized, or perhaps women who had come here to get the babies they couldn’t have on their own.

  My heart squeezed, remembering the agency’s brochure. The way it had presented surrogacy as something noble. Selfless. Conflicted, I plucked one of the parenting magazines from the low table beside me and flipped through it idly, searching for a distraction. There were articles on car seats, dealing with morning sickness, potty-training toddlers, and advertisements for the latest children’s fashions.

  Despite the glossy photos and attractive pages, my eyes kept flicking up, past the pages. I watched people come and go. A frowning woman wrapped up in her phone’s display screen, a couple wreathed in smiles and leaning in close, their words busy, joyful whispers.

  Stop being nosy. I tried to refocus on the magazine but couldn’t help looking up when the main door opened again. I nearly dropped the magazine as lightning zinged through me, setting my entire body warm and tingling.

  The new arrival was male, tall, and broad-shouldered. In the wash of golden sunlight that spilled through the building’s glass front, he looked like one of the mythical gods made flesh. He walked with purpose, hard muscle rippling under his well-cut clothes, and deft fingers punching out what could be a quick message on his phone. In his other hand, he carried a bottle of water and a small bag of chips.

  Just back from lunch, I thought, distantly. A pang gripped my chest—an irrational longing to share a meal with this handsome stranger. To sit across any table and just watch him, listen to him. Know him.

  The man’s head suddenly shot up, making my heart jump and then pound. I knew that reaction—it was the unmistakable animal instinct of a shifter who had just felt eyes on them. His head swiveled in my direction, and I stopped breathing.

  His face was strong and angular, his neatly trimmed beard only accenting his perfectly chiseled jaw. Like his hair, his beard was a sandy, dirty-blonde shade that added to his sun-kissed appearance and set off his striking eyes. The color of a summer storm, they were a swirl of blue and gray, and when they fixed on me, I felt as if he were seeing into me, laying all my secrets bare. I felt myself flush, unfamiliar panic and desire rushing up, flooding through me.

  The stranger’s gaze snapped away. Sound rushed back into my awareness, and I realized belatedly that someone had called his name. He flashed them a smile, gave a quick nod. Then those gorgeous eyes were back on me. It was only for a second, but the feel of them sang along my skin, sent a delicious shudder running through me.

  For a long moment, I met his gaze with a wanton brazenness I didn’t recognize, couldn’t have imagined myself capable of. The air seemed to sizzle between us. Then he wrenched his eyes away and shoved through the glass doors into the medical suite.

  Chapter 5 – Caleb

  The glass door shut behind me with a soft snick, and I strode down the hall, adrenaline still singing through my veins. Energy crackled along my skin like I’d been hit by lightning, leaving me breathless and stunned. What the hell just happened?

  Walking into my office, I swung the door shut behind me and collapsed into my chair, barely noticing as the chips and water tumbled onto my desk. Think, I told myself, struggling to focus.

  I’d been texting Nadia with a question about a birthday present for Sam on my way in from the parking lot when all my senses went on alert. Someone was watching. Intently. I looked up, directly into a pair of eyes the color of aged whiskey. It was like taking a sucker-punch to the head.

  A woman, sitting in lobby—she’d bee
n staring right at me. She was stunningly gorgeous in a Hollywood girl-next-door kind of way. Flawless coppery skin. Long, glossy hair. Eyes you could drown in. Curves for days under a fluttery, ethereal dress. Holy hell.

  The entire world had narrowed in a blink as if there was nothing but her. Until Elton had called my name and snapped me out of the trance. Thank god he had. I’d been half a second from stalking straight toward her. To do what, I had no idea, but the thought made me drag my hands down my face with a groan.

  She was in the lobby. Damn it.

  There were exactly two reasons that people came to the agency. They worked here, or they were clients. Clients and coworkers were equally off-limits for anything other than professional relationships.

  Damn it. I took a deep breath and blew it out again. Get a grip, man.

  Straightening up, I righted the bag of chips and my water, then snatched up the top file on a stack in the middle of my desk that hadn’t been there when I left. A green sticky note with looping script sat on top.

  Caleb—thanks for stepping up. I’ve assigned you a few more of Dr. Niels’ clients for today and tomorrow.

  If I squinted, I could just barely make Dr. Carlton’s name out of the signature sprawled below. I grinned, my world righting as I slid back into Doctor mode. This was exactly what I needed. A distraction, and a chance to prove myself to my new coworkers sooner rather than later.

  Glancing at the clock, I tore open the bag of chips and opened the first client file in the stack. Another sticky note, blue this time, indicated the patient who would be my first appointment after lunch. I had just enough time to review the file and finish my chips before they got here. Flipping the folder open, I started reading.

  The client was relatively young—only 24—and the appointment was her first. An initial consultation to determine her suitability as a potential surrogate. That boosted my mood immediately. There was a checklist for the consultation process, and it was actually part of the patient’s file. I could walk through it step by step without looking like a newbie who didn’t know what he was doing.