Pregnant by My Husband's Rival Alpha

Avia's POV

My mother was on her knees.

I'd never seen her like this—Catherine Rhinehart, Luna of Rhinehart pack. Now her mascara ran in black streaks down her face, her hands clutching at my wrists with a grip that hurt.

"Please, Avia. Please." Her voice cracked. "Three years. Three years and you can't even give the Cross Pack one child."

My throat closed up. I wanted to tell her the truth—that it wasn't me, that Alexander had never actually touched me, not really. Just those humiliating moments when he'd press against me through my nightgown, making me feel his contempt more than anything else.

But I couldn't say it. The words stuck like broken glass in my mouth.

"Mom, get up—"

"No." She squeezed harder. "We're losing contracts, Avia. Alexander is cutting us off because you can't do this one simple thing."

Simple. Right.

Behind her, my father stood at the balcony railing. One foot was already on the bottom rail.

My heart stopped.

"Dad—"

"If you won't do this," Roger said, his voice flat and cold, "then what's the point? I'll jump right now. Let the whole pack know my daughter drove me to it."

"Dad, please don't—" My hands shook as I reached toward him.

Catherine's nails dug into my arm. "Do you hate us? Is that it? You'd rather see us destroyed than just—just do your duty?"

Duty. That word again.

San Loris. The city where wolves hid behind corporate logos and billion-dollar empires. Where packs survived by playing the human game better than humans ever could.

And my family was losing.

Rhinehart Design Company's accounts were bleeding red. Every contract we had left depended on the Cross Pack's goodwill. On Alexander's family keeping us afloat.

On me being valuable enough to keep.

I closed my eyes. My chest felt too tight, like my ribs were crushing my lungs.

"I'll do it," I whispered.

The change was instant. Catherine's tears stopped like someone had flipped a switch. She released my wrists and stood, smoothing down her skirt. From her Hermès bag, she pulled out a hotel key card and a book with a cream-colored cover.

"The Crown Hotel, room 908. Nine o'clock tonight." She pressed both items into my hands. "This book—I picked it out specially. Study it. Make sure he enjoys it enough to finish the job."

I looked down. How to Please a Man was embossed on the cover in elegant script.

Heat flooded my face. I wanted to throw it across the room.

"And Avia?" My mom's voice turned sharp. "You initiate. Understand? Make him want you."

At 8:55 PM, I stood outside room 908, the key card slick with sweat in my palm.

The hallway was too bright. Too quiet. Every breath I took sounded too loud.

I swiped the card. The lock beeped green.

The room was dim inside, just one lamp by the bed casting warm yellow light. A man stood at the floor-to-ceiling window, his back to me, phone pressed to his ear.

"I'm here," he said, his voice deep and rough. "She hasn't shown up yet. Double-check the—"

He heard the door and spun around, phone snapping shut.

I froze.

Holy shit.

He was... I mean, I'd been with Alexander for three years, and Alexander was handsome in that cold, corporate way. But this man—

Tall. Maybe 6'4". Broad shoulders straining against a black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showing forearms that looked like they could snap bones. Sharp jaw. And his eyes—gray, like ice, like winter storms.

Those eyes locked onto my face and his throat moved as he swallowed.

I looked down fast, my face burning. "I'm—" The words died. What was I supposed to say? Hi, I'm here to get pregnant by a stranger because my husband won't touch me?

If this is the only thing I can do for my family... if this stops them from hurting themselves...

He was staring at me like he was trying to solve a puzzle. His gaze traced my face—my eyes, my lips, my neck—and everywhere it touched felt too hot.

Then he moved closer, and I smelled him. Cedar and something wild, something that made my wolf whine in the back of my mind.

My mother's voice echoed in my head: You initiate.

My hands shook as I reached for my coat buttons.

He didn't move. Didn't help. Just stood there watching me with those cold gray eyes while I fumbled with the buttons like an idiot. The coat slipped off my shoulders and hit the floor.

I started on my blouse.

"Do you know what you're doing?" His voice was quiet. Dangerous.

Tears pricked my eyes, but I nodded.

Liar. You have no idea what you're doing.

The blouse joined the coat. I stood there in my bra and skirt, every muscle locked tight, wanting to run and knowing I couldn't.

He moved so fast I gasped—one second he was two feet away, the next his hands were on my waist and I was in the air. My back hit the mattress and he was over me, his weight pressing me down into expensive sheets.

"Wait—" I started, but then his mouth was on my collarbone and my brain short-circuited.

This is wrong. I'm married. I'm betraying Alexander—

But his tongue traced the hollow of my throat and my back arched without permission. His hand slid up my ribs, thumb brushing the underside of my breast, and I made a sound I'd never made before.

Alexander had never touched me like this. Never made my skin feel like it was on fire.

The man's chest pressed against mine—hard muscle and heat—and when his fingers found the clasp of my bra, I should've stopped him. Should've said something.

Instead I lifted my shoulders so he could pull it off.

What's wrong with me?

His mouth moved lower. Teeth scraped my nipple and I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, could only feel the way my body was responding to him like it had been waiting for this my whole life.

I hated myself for it. Hated how wet I was getting, how my hips were already shifting restlessly under him.

He pushed my skirt up, his palm rough against my inner thigh, and I bit my lip hard enough to taste blood.

"You're shaking," he said against my skin.

"I'm—" Terrified. Guilty. So turned on I might die.

His fingers hooked into my panties and pulled them down. Cool air hit between my legs and I wanted to close them, hide, but he was already there, his hand cupping me, one finger sliding through wetness that made shame burn through my chest.

"So ready," he murmured. "Your body knows what it wants."

Then he was opening his belt, shoving his pants down, and I saw him—thick and hard and oh god this was really happening—

He pushed inside and I cried out, my hands fisting in the sheets.

This is wrong. So wrong. Alexander's face flashed in my mind—

But then the man moved and pleasure spiked through the guilt, sharp and overwhelming. My body didn't care about right or wrong. It just wanted more.

I'm disgusting. I'm actually enjoying this—

"Relax," he said, but he didn't wait, just kept pushing deeper until I felt so full I couldn't breathe. "You're taking me so well. Squeezing me so tight."

He started to move. Slow at first, almost gentle, but then harder, faster, and every thrust made sparks shoot up my spine.

Stop. You need to stop responding like this—

But my hips lifted to meet him anyway. My body was betraying every moral I had left.

His hand slid between us, fingers finding my clit, and I shattered.

The orgasm hit like a physical blow—my vision went white, my whole body seizing up as pleasure crashed through me in waves that wouldn't stop.

Through the haze, I felt him thrust once more, hard, then go rigid as he finished inside me.

I got dressed with shaking hands while he was in the bathroom. Didn't wait for him to come out. Just grabbed my coat and ran.

The elevator had an "out of order" sign.

Perfect.

I took the emergency stairs, my heels clicking too loud on concrete. My thighs were sticky. I felt used and dirty and—

Laughter echoed from below.

I knew that laugh.

Through the small window in the stairwell door, I could see Alexander's arm around a blonde woman in a red dress.

Mira. My husband and his "best friend" who he swore was just a friend, nothing more.

Wait—what is he doing here?

The thought hit me cold and sharp. The same hotel. The same night.

No. It can't be—

"Alex, are you sure this will work?" Mira's voice drifted up. "What if she doesn't get pregnant?"

Alexander's laugh was cold. "I hired the best stud I could find. All that bitch has to do is spread her legs."