La amante con VIH y el esposo que pagará caro

Dr. Cross (POV).

The scent of a True Alpha is something a human might mistake for expensive woodsmoke, rain-drenched cedar, and clean, cold winter air. But to a latent shifter like me, it was a physical blow to the sternum. It was a chemical command, a heavy, invisible weight that flooded my senses the exact second I swiped my new electronic medical badge and stepped into the underground hydrotherapy suite of the TD Garden.

The arena above was completely empty now. The lights had been dimmed, the roar of twenty thousand Boston Frost Giants fans reduced to a ghostly echo in the concrete rafters. The team had just dismantled their division rivals in a game that felt less like professional hockey and more like a sanctioned pack war. And at the center of that war, as always, had been Kaelen Vane.

The Apex.

He didn’t just play the game; he ruled it. He was a six-foot-five mountain of pure, concentrated muscle, a genetic anomaly of a True Alpha whose on-ice violence was legendary. He was the man my ex-fiancé, Gavin, practically worshipped from afar, pasting Kaelen’s stats on his wall while completely ignoring me in our bed.

Gavin. Just thinking his name made my stomach turn into a tight, bitter knot. Six years I had spent supporting that pathetic Beta. Six years of working two jobs to pay for his training facilities, his specialized high-protein diet, and the very apartment where I eventually caught him knotting a pack cheerleader against my own vanity mirror on my twenty-fifth birthday. Seven months had passed since that night, seven months of him acting like I was a broken piece of trash he’d successfully discarded. And then, yesterday, the ultimate insult arrived in my mailbox: a gold-embossed invitation to his mandatory Pack Unity Cruise. A month-long luxury voyage where he intended to officially mark his new, high-society female in front of the entire regional hierarchy. He wanted me there to be humiliated. He expected me to show up alone, packless, and grieving.

Not a chance in hell.

I took a deep, steadying breath, adjusting the strap of my leather shoulder bag. Inside it was a legally binding, ironclad contract I had spent the last forty-eight hours drafting. I had used every ounce of my pristine medical credentials to secure the position of lead rehabilitative chiropractor for the Frost Giants, but I wasn't here tonight to adjust a spine.

I was here to strike a deal with the devil.

The hydrotherapy room was choked with thick, warm steam. The massive, stainless-steel tubs bubbled softly, casting rippling, watery shadows across the tiled walls. I walked past the empty ice baths, my heels clicking sharply on the wet rubber mats, until I reached the deepest, most secluded corner of the suite.

Kaelen was there.

He was sitting on the edge of the deepest hot tub, his massive legs submerged in the swirling, steaming water. He was entirely stripped down to a pair of black compression shorts that clung to his thick, tree-trunk thighs like a second skin. His upper body was completely bare, and it was a breathtaking testament to violence and beauty. His chest was ridiculously broad, a heavy expanse of sculpted armor etched with a map of silver battle scars and intricate, dark-inked runes that traced the line of his powerful collarbones. His abdominal muscles were deeply defined, tapering down into the sharp, lethal V-lines of his hips.

His head was tilted back against the tiled rim, his eyes closed. His hair—thick, dark, and damp with sweat and melted ice—was pushed back from his forehead. Even in repose, his jawline looked like it had been carved out of granite, covered in a rough, dark stubble that shadowed his throat.

As I took another step forward, the water in the tub went entirely still. Kaelen didn't open his eyes, but his nostrils flared, drawing in the air of the room. Drawing in me.

"You're in the wrong place, Doctor," his voice rumbled. It was a terrifying, low-frequency rasp that vibrated straight through the soles of my shoes and woke up a strange, dormant ache deep inside my lower belly. "The medical staff cleared out an hour ago."

"I know," I said, keeping my voice as cool, precise, and professional as humanly possible, despite the way my heart was currently hammering against my ribs. "I waited until they left. I needed to speak with you privately, Captain Vane."

Kaelen slowly opened his eyes. My breath caught. They weren't the standard human blue they appeared to be on the television screens during interviews. Right now, post-game, fueled by adrenaline and the raw heat of the pack win, they were a brilliant, glowing, predatory gold. He turned his head, his gaze locking onto mine with the heavy, crushing pressure of a dominant apex predator inspecting an intruder in his den.

"I don't do private consultations," he drawled, his eyes tracking the slow movement of my chest as I breathed. He leaned back on his hands, flexing a pair of massive, tattooed biceps that could easily snap a man’s ribs. "And I don't need adjusting. My wolf heals faster than your little human hands can work."

"I'm not human, Kaelen. I'm a latent shifter," I corrected softly, stepping closer until I was standing right at the edge of the tub, looking down at him. "And I'm not here to adjust your spine. I’m here to offer you a solution to the Lycan Sports Council’s ultimatum."

That got his attention. The lazy, arrogant tilt of his head vanished instantly. Kaelen’s posture went completely rigid, his gold eyes narrowing into dangerous, lethal slits. The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees as his Alpha aura flared, a crushing wave of dominant energy that practically demanded I drop to my knees and submit.

But I didn't. I held my ground, tilting my chin up, refusing to let him see the tremor in my hands.

"What do you know about the Council?" he growled, the sound echoing from deep within his massive chest, a literal wolf’s warning.

"I know that after your third game misconduct for unhinged aggression this month, the Council held a closed-door meeting," I said, pulling the manila folder from my bag and holding it out. "I know they are threatening to strip your captaincy and suspend you for the entire playoff run unless you can prove your inner beast is stabilized. And in our society, there is only one way an Alpha proves he is stabilized to the board."

Kaelen stared at the folder in my hand, then slowly stood up, rising out of the steaming water like a leviathan.

My mouth went completely dry. He was magnificent. Towering over me, water dripping in slow, agonizing rivulets down the hard, chiseled planes of his chest, tracing the dark hair that dusted his sternum before disappearing into the tight waistband of his compression shorts. The fabric was soaked, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. He was thick, heavy, and already semi-aroused from the lingering heat of the battle on the ice, a massive ridge pressing against the dark material.

He stepped out of the tub, completely unbothered by his nakedness, and closed the distance between us until I was forced to tilt my head entirely back just to maintain eye contact. He smelled so strongly of raw sex, cold ice, and dominant power that my knees felt weak.

"They want me to claim a mate," Kaelen whispered, his deep voice slicing through the steam. He reached out, his massive, calloused hand hovering just inches from my neck. The heat radiating from his skin was like a furnace. "They think a female will tame my wolf. They think a collar will keep me from breaking bones on the ice."

"They do," I breathed, my pulse racing frantically against my throat, right where his fingers were teasing the air. "And you refuse to take a permanent mate because of your rule. You don't touch the same female twice. You don't do strings."

"Never," he growled, his eyes dropping to my lips for a fraction of a second before snapping back to my eyes. "So what are you proposing, Dr. Cross? You think you can cure my aggression?"

"No," I said, opening the folder and showing him the contract. "I'm proposing we fake it. A mutually beneficial, legally binding arrangement. We pretend to be fated mates who have just triggered our bond. We give the Council the perfect story of a wild Alpha brought to heel by a respectable, professional female. We maintain the illusion through the playoffs."

Kaelen let out a rough, dark laugh, a sound that sent a shiver straight down my spine. "And what does a beautiful, latent Omega get out of tying herself to a monster like me?"

"Revenge," I said, the word tasting like iron on my tongue. "My ex-fiancé is Gavin Vance. He’s a climbing Beta on your minor league affiliate. He cheated on me, humiliated me, and just invited me to his Pack Unity Cruise next month to watch him claim his new mate. I want to walk onto that ship with the most powerful True Alpha in the country on my arm. I want to completely destroy his pride. I want him to know that while he was busy discarding me, I went straight to the top of the food chain."

Kaelen went entirely still. His gold eyes flared brighter, a deep, primal curiosity flashing through them. He stepped even closer, his broad chest literally brushing against the fabric of my silk blouse. I could feel the hard, rhythmic thudding of his heart against my own ribs.

"You want to use me as a weapon?" he murmured, a dangerous, wicked smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

"I want us to use each other," I countered, my voice dropping to a whisper as the sheer proximity of his naked body began to scramble my brain. "One month of public appearances. One month of pretending to be yours. Then, once the playoffs are over and your captaincy is secure, we announce a quiet, amicable split due to 'mismatched wolf compatibility.' No strings. No permanent collar."

Kaelen didn't answer right away. Instead, he reached out, his massive, tattooed hand finally making contact with my skin. His long, thick fingers wrapped securely around the back of my neck, his thumb resting right over my thudding pulse point. The moment his bare skin touched mine, a jolt of pure, unadulterated electricity shot straight down my spine, pooling between my thighs in a sudden, heavy ache.

He pulled me forward an inch, forcing my hips to flush directly against his. Through the thin material of my skirt, I felt the thick, rock-hard length of him, throbbing and massive, pinning me against his heat. A soft, involuntary gasp tore from my throat, my hands instinctively coming up to rest against his wet, rock-hard chest just to keep my balance.

"You think you can handle pretending to be mine, Harlow?" Kaelen growled, his face dropping down until his lips were brushing the sensitive shell of my ear. His breath was hot, sending a wave of goosebumps breaking across my skin. "My wolf doesn't know how to play nice. If we do this, we have to make it look real. The Council will be watching. Your ex will be watching. That means when I look at you, I have to look at you like I want to tear your clothes off and mark you in front of the whole world."

"I can handle it," I whimpered, even as my body betrayed me, my hips instinctively tilting a fraction of an inch closer, searching for the friction of his heavy erection.

"We'll see," Kaelen whispered, his thumb caressing my jawline, tilting my face up to his. His gold eyes were completely wild now, burning with a predatory hunger that made it very clear the fake lines were already dangerously blurred. "But if you think I'm letting you walk onto that ship without my scent painted all over your skin... you're entirely mistaken, Doctor."

Before I could even process his words, Kaelen’s hand tightened on the back of my neck, and he slammed his mouth down onto mine.