Beyond His Lies, Her Alpha's Love

Aliana POV: Ivan's large, warm hand cupped my cheek. My stomach violently rolled. The urge to vomit was so strong I had to swallow hard against the acid rising in my throat. I fluttered my eyes open, forcing my face into a mask of groggy confusion. It wasn't entirely an act. The hours spent in the freezing rain, followed by the ice-cold shower, had left my body in a state of genuine shock. My skin was pale, and dark circles bruised the skin under my eyes. Ivan shifted his weight, moving from his knees to sit beside me on the sofa. He leaned in, wrapping his arm around my shoulders to pull me against his chest. He lowered his head, aiming his lips directly at the sensitive skin of my neck—the spot where a mate's mark belonged. The second his breath hit my skin, I jerked my head away and doubled over. A harsh, rattling cough ripped through my chest. It was loud and ugly. I covered my mouth with both hands, my shoulders shaking violently. Ivan froze. His arm hovered awkwardly in the air. I saw the muscles in his jaw tighten, a micro-expression of pure annoyance flashing across his face before he smoothed it away. "I'm sorry," I rasped, my voice thick and broken. "I fell asleep waiting for you. I think I caught a chill. Don't get too close, Ivan. I don't want to get you sick." Ivan reached out and pressed the back of his hand against my forehead. His brow furrowed. "You're freezing, Aliana. You feel like a block of ice." He sighed, a perfectly crafted sound of fond exasperation. "You shouldn't have waited up. I told you I was going to be late." As he leaned over me, the scent hit my nose. He had showered at the villa, but the damp morning air had brought out the lingering ghost of Kiera's orchid perfume, mixed with the sharp, musky scent of his own Alpha sweat. The combination was rancid. I pressed my hands against his chest and gently, but firmly, pushed him back. "You smell exhausted," I said softly, pointing a trembling finger at his collar. "And your shirt is ruined. You should go take a hot shower. Wash the border mud off." Ivan glanced down at the wrinkled, stained fabric of his dress shirt. The shirt the little boy had been yanking on. A flicker of guilt darted through his eyes. "Yeah," he muttered, running a hand through his dark hair. "The rogue wolves put up a hell of a fight in the mud. I need to scrub this off." I nodded, offering him a weak, supportive smile. I slowly stood up, my legs trembling slightly, and walked to the bedroom. I opened his dresser and pulled out a clean towel, a fresh pair of slacks, and a gray t-shirt. I handed them to him like the perfect, devoted little Luna. Ivan smiled, clearly thrilled with how easily he had manipulated me. He leaned in and pressed a dry, chaste kiss to my forehead. I didn't pull away. But down at my sides, my fingers curled inward, my nails digging back into the open scabs on my palms. Ivan turned and walked toward the master bathroom. His posture was relaxed, his steps light. He thought he had won. The heavy oak door of the bathroom clicked shut. Ten seconds later, the loud, rushing sound of the high-pressure showerhead echoed through the walls. The second the water hit the tiles, the weakness vanished from my body. My spine snapped straight. The trembling in my legs stopped instantly. My eyes, dull and tired a second ago, sharpened into the cold, calculating stare of a predator. I walked over to the glass coffee table. I reached underneath the frame, my fingers finding the magnetic strip I had hidden there months ago. I pulled off a small, black rectangular device. I pressed the button on the side. A tiny green light blinked to life. It was a military-grade signal jammer. It instantly severed the apartment's internal security network from the external cellular towers. I turned on my heel and looked down the long, shadowed hallway. At the very end of the corridor was a solid steel door painted to look like wood. Ivan's private study. It was the only room in the penthouse I was strictly forbidden to enter. The door was secured by a state-of-the-art biometric lock, requiring both a thumbprint and a retinal scan to disengage the deadbolts. I walked down the hallway, my bare feet completely silent on the hardwood floor. I stopped in front of the door. I listened closely. The water in the bathroom was still running, a steady, deafening roar that masked my presence. I had exactly ten minutes before he turned the water off. I raised my right hand and hovered my thumb an inch over the glowing blue glass of the fingerprint scanner. A cold smile touched my lips. "Did you really think a lock could keep me out, you idiot?"