Casada com o CEO: Quando o jogo saiu de controle

"You're done, Isaac."

The words hit like a puck to the sternum. I gripped the furs to my chest, propped on one elbow in the dim light of the den. Santiago Vega, the star Enforcer of the San Antonio Ice Arena, didn't even look back as he paced the stone floor of my quarters. He was six-foot-four of lethal muscle and silver-grey fur, currently shifting back into his human skin and pulling on leather trousers with predatory grace.

"Done?" I repeated. My throat felt like it was full of dry pine needles. "What are you talking about?"

"The Great Hunt starts tomorrow," Santiago said, sliding his jersey over his head—the one with the snarling wolf logo. "If I lead the pack to the Silver Cup, things are going to get feral. I can’t have a mate-bond slowing my stride."

I sat up, the cold air biting at my bare skin. "You're severing this? Now?"

"We weren't exactly fated, Isaac," he had the nerve to growl while buckling his belt.

I stared at him. For five moon-cycles, we had shared blood, heat, and hunt. He’d come to me three nights a week, demanding my touch, my blades to trim his mane, my body to cool his fire.

"Not fated?" I snapped. "You’ve been in my bed since the first frost!"

He shrugged, his eyes flashing a lingering amber. "I’m an Alpha on the road. Pups and omegas are constantly baring their throats to me. You know how the pack works."

He didn't even use my name. Just 'Omega' or 'Little Wolf.' I used to think it was a term of endearment. Now I realized he’d probably forgotten 'Isaac' entirely.

"So I was just a warm body? A placeholder until the championship?"

"Exactly." He flashed a grin that was all teeth. "Look, you’re the only one in the territory who can groom my pelt without nicking the skin. Just because we aren't knotting doesn't mean I want you to stop working on my hair and claws."

I fell back against the pillows, staring at the vaulted stone ceiling. "How generous of you."

"I thought so. Most Alphas just howl at the moon and vanish. But hey, I sent my whole roster to your salon, didn't I? You can probably pick one of them to replace me. They're all strong brothers. They won't mind my scent on you."

My blood turned to liquid silver. "You wouldn't care if I scented a teammate?"

"Why would I? Except for Derek Coleman," he added, his jaw tightening.

"Why not him?"

"Because he’s the bastard from the Northern Pack who’s going to try to rip my throat out at the Capital Ice Dome. He’ll slam me into the frozen boards and try to break my ribs just to keep me from the kill."

I felt a sudden, sharp respect for this Derek Coleman. For months, Santiago had bitched about his rivalry with the Northern Enforcer. He spoke about him with a fear he tried to mask as hatred.

"You're a nobody, Isaac. A Northern Alpha like Coleman wouldn't even catch your scent, let alone claim you," Santiago spat, delivering the final blow.

"A nobody," I whispered.

"I mean, he’s a beast. He doesn't take mates. Ice and blood are his only world. He’s the most violent prick in the four kingdoms."

I watched him leave, his arrogance filling the room like a foul musk. He was convinced he was untouchable. We’d see about that.

The Bella Vida Salon felt suffocating when I crawled back. I’d skipped my midday meal for Santiago's "final hunt," and now I was hollowed out in more ways than one.

"You look like you've been run over by a mammoth," Camila Ortiz said the second I walked in.

My best friend was a fierce Beta with every dark hair in place. I, however, felt like a mangy cub. Maybe if I were stronger, or had a more dominant scent, Santiago wouldn't have discarded me.

"I just got cut from the pack," I muttered.

"What? No!"

"He says we were never 'together.' I was just a convenient heat."

"That bastard. I'm sorry, Isaac."

I slumped into my grooming chair, spinning it with a heavy boot. "Is it wrong that I want to silver-plate his hockey sticks or shave him bald while he sleeps?"

"Perfectly valid," Camila nodded. "But his 'pups'—those crazed fans—would tear you apart in the streets."

"True. And I don't want the High Council arresting me for assault."

"Sucks that he threw you away like a chewed bone," Camila mused. "But wait... he said you could sleep with his teammates and he wouldn't care?"

"Yeah. The only one he forbid was some rival. Derek Coleman."

Camila’s eyes went wide. She whipped out her slate, fingers flying. "Found him! Derek Coleman. Lead Enforcer for the Northern Warhawks. He looks like he eats raw iron for breakfast, but damn, he’s a mountain of a man."

She turned the screen. The man in the image was massive, his beard thick, his eyes the color of a frozen lake.

"He looks terrifying, Camila. Even Santiago is shaking in his skates."

"Terrifying is just another word for 'hot,'" she whispered. "Let’s see him in the pits."

We watched the crystals play back the Northern games. Hit after hit, Coleman sent shifters flying into the barriers with the force of an avalanche.

"He’s a monster," I breathed.

"Exactly. And you think you can just walk up to this Alpha and ask him to pretend he’s claimed you?"

"I'm not actually going to mate with a stranger just because Santiago broke my heart," I snapped.

Camila sighed, shaking her head. "I knew Santiago was too shiny to be real. You thought you were special because an Enforcer wanted you. You put your worth in his eyes."

"I did," I admitted, my voice cracking. "I thought out of all the wolves, he chose me."

"He did. He just didn't choose only you."

"If you want to gut him," Camila said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial low, "show him you've already moved on to a bigger predator. Tell him you and the Northman met, recognized the 'spark,' and now he’s busy making you forget Santiago ever existed."

"With his greatest enemy? No one will believe that."

"Why not? Tomorrow is the first game of the finals. Right here in San Antonio. You’ve been to the Ice Arena plenty of times. You have the scent-markers to get past the gate."

"I don't know if the guards will let a discarded mate in," I said doubtfully.

"One way to find out," Camila grinned. "We just need a ticket. And I know a few Elders who owe me favors."

"Fine," I agreed, standing up and dusting off my tunic. "But first, I need a cleansing ritual. Who knows what kind of filth he brought into my bed."

"Good call," Camila winced. "I've been in the back room more than once while you were out here on your knees for him."

"Sorry," I muttered, face heating up. "I always thought the door was barred."