INICIAR SESIÓNThe ice doesn’t lie. Neither does the hunger. Isaac Corres is done being the quiet shadow behind a hockey superstar. When Derek Coleman dumped him in the middle of a championship run, he didn't just break Isaac’s heart—he ignited a war. Isaac isn't looking for a rebound; he’s looking for leverage. And he finds it in the most dangerous man on the ice: Santiago Vega. Santiago is the Warhawks’ Enforcer—a predator in pads, a wolf who doesn't play by the rules and certainly doesn't do "romance." He’s a wall of muscle, cold authority, and suppressed rage. When Isaac approaches him with a proposition for a fake, high-stakes rivalry to humiliate the man who betrayed them both, Santiago doesn’t refuse. He takes the bait with a growl. But the line between strategy and instinct is razor-thin. In the neon-soaked, frozen tunnels of the San Antonio Ice Arena, their deal turns into a scorched-earth affair. Every stare is a challenge; every touch is a claim. Santiago is used to controlling the fire in his blood, but Isaac’s defiance is the one thing he can’t break—or stop craving. As the series heats up and the physical toll of their "arrangement" turns into a primal, 18+ game of dominance and surrender, Isaac realizes the truth: Santiago Vega wasn't looking for a pawn. He was looking for a mate. The cameras are watching. The fans are screaming. And on the ice, where the air is thin and the secrets are lethal, Isaac is about to find out exactly what happens when an Alpha decides he’s done sharing. One goal. Two hearts on the chopping block. And a heat that’s about to shatter the ice.
Ver más"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."
“Is that the legendary Santiago Vega I see, or just a lone wolf looking for trouble?” a man’s voice resonates across the concrete as soon as the black SUV rumbles to a halt.Isaac Corres is leaning against the chain-link fence of the team parking zone, a mischievous glint in his eyes that could rival the San Antonio sun. He isn’t just any man; he is a vision of lean muscle and sharp wit, his hair wind-swept from the Texas heat.“Could a weary star player spare a single moment for a lowly admirer?” Isaac asks, flashing a grin that has sent Santiago’s pulse into a frantic breakaway more times than he’d care to admit.“Just a moment? You’ve got a hell of a lot more than that, Isaac,” Santiago grunts, hefting his equipment bag over his shoulder. He approaches the perimeter, his inner wolf stirring at the familiar, intoxicating scent of cedar and expensive hair tonic.“I know what that look means, Vega,” Isaac counters, crossing his arms over his chest. “But don’t go labeling me a puck bun
"Where do you think you're going, Isaac? You haven't even had the desk clerk fix that keycard yet."Isaac Corres spun around in the center of the Vega Grand Hotel Suite lobby, his heart nearly leaping out of his chest. He had been so focused on the flickering red light of his deactivated card—and the exhausting weight of the pack’s championship victory—that he hadn’t noticed the sudden hush falling over the crowd."Santiago?" Isaac gasped. "What in the name of the Great Moon are you doing here? You should be at the arena. You should be with the Warhawks."Santiago Vega stood there, still clad in his sweat-stained black and red jersey, his chest heaving as if he’d run the entire distance from the Capital Ice Dome. He was still wearing his heavy protective gear, though he had swapped his skates for a pair of polished dress shoes that looked absurd beneath his padded leggings. A jagged red line, the mark of a warrior’s helmet, was scorched across his forehead."I’m here because you aren'
The atmosphere inside the Capital Ice Dome was a suffocating blend of ozone, sweat, and the primal scent of several hundred shifted wolves. Isaac Corres stood at the glass, his fingers curling into the railing as he watched the blur of black and gold jerseys clash against the blue and yellow of the Bobcats."He's going to kill him," Camila Ortiz murmured from his side, her eyes tracking Santiago Vega as he leveled a shoulder check into Derek Coleman that sent the blonde Alpha skidding across the ice. "Or he's going to win the whole damn war.""It’s not a war anymore, Camila," Isaac replied, his voice strained. "It’s a hunt. Look at them."Despite the brutality, the personal venom that had fueled their previous brawls was gone. It was clean. It was professional. It was two Alphas proving their worth to the same pack. The scoreboard was a glowing testament to the stalemate: 2-2, three minutes left in the third period. The entire arena was a sea of howling fans, the vibration of their vo
"Being in the heart of the Capital Ice Dome feels like standing in the middle of a lightning storm," Isaac Corres whispered, his voice barely audible over the growing roar of the Warhawks faithful.Walking through the corridors with Derek Coleman felt like a betrayal of his own senses. Even with ninety minutes until the puck drop, the air was saturated with the scent of anticipation and the musk of several hundred shifting wolves. This was it—the game that would decide which pack claimed the ultimate glory of the league."Names?" the security guard at the inner sanctum growled."Isaac Corres and Derek Coleman," Isaac answered, watching the guard’s eyes flicker with recognition.The guard waved them through toward the private family lounge. It was a sprawling space, designed for the high-energy pups of the pro-circuit wolves. A massive screen dominated one wall, and the floor was littered with toys. In the corner, at a low table covered in building blocks, Mateo Vega was deep in concen






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