BENSON POV:

I strode into the sitting room and saw Faith Walker perched on the edge of a sofa. She looked pale, fragile, like a lily that was one breath away from wilting.

My inner wolf let out a low, irritated growl. Today was our Mating Ceremony, and she was in here, faking an illness. It was a direct challenge to my authority.

"Faith, what game are you playing now?" I demanded. My voice was colder than I intended. The frustration of waiting had made my palms sweat. I unconsciously slipped the signet ring I'd been toying with from my finger for a moment and hooked it onto a decorative clasp on my belt.

She looked up at me, and her wide green eyes filled with a familiar fear and vulnerability. She looked as if I were a predator about to devour her.

That look immediately soothed my wolf. He rumbled, his anger shifting to a kind of condescending pity. See? She is still afraid of me.

I told myself she was just a weak Omega. These pathetic little dramas were probably the only way she thought she could get my attention. After all, what woman wouldn't want the attention of her mate?

I moved toward her, stepping into her space. My powerful scent—snow-dusted pine and cold steel—filled the small room, surrounding her. I saw her flinch, a tiny, almost imperceptible retreat.

That small act of defiance ignited my wolf's temper again.

Mine! he snarled in my head.

FAITH POV:

Benson's scent wrapped around me like a net, the smell of pine and smoke that haunted my nightmares.

A wave of nausea rose in my throat, hot and acidic. I fought the urge to vomit right at his feet.

My shrinking back had clearly provoked him. His hand shot out, grabbing my chin and forcing my head up.

His thumb moved roughly over my lips, his eyes filled with a mixture of suspicion and raw possession. "What are you afraid of?" he asked, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.

I could feel the beast under his skin, restless and violent. In my past life, this was always the prelude to his cruelty.

My body went rigid with remembered terror, but I knew I couldn't pull away. I had to be the frightened little Omega he expected, one who craved his attention even as she feared it.

"I... I'm just so nervous, Benson," I whispered, my voice trembling. I willed tears to well in my eyes. "I'm afraid I'm not good enough for you."

The words worked their magic. The hard line of his jaw softened slightly. The rough motion of his thumb on my lips changed, becoming a slow, almost possessive caress.

"Of course you're not good enough for me," he said with a dismissive smirk, but his tone was laced with satisfaction. "But you were chosen by the Moon Goddess. It is your honor."

He lowered his head, his intention clear. He was going to kiss me, a kiss meant to "soothe" his frightened little mate.

My heart hammered against my ribs, not with anticipation, but with disgust. I could not let him touch me. Not again.

I turned my head at the last second, dodging his lips as I let out a sharp, pained gasp. "Ah!"

Benson's face darkened instantly, thinking I had rejected him again.

I immediately pointed to my ankle, my voice thick with fake tears. "My foot... I twisted it earlier. It hurts so much."

His gaze dropped to my ankle. It was already slightly red and swollen—from where I had pinched it myself just moments before.

His anger subsided, replaced by sheer impatience. An injured mate was a complication he didn't want to deal with on his ceremony day.

He straightened up. "Always causing trouble," he muttered coldly.

Just then, the sound of frantic footsteps echoed from the hallway, followed by a woman's desperate cry. "Benson! Benson, where are you?"

Alondra's voice.

The change in Benson was instantaneous. The impatience and coldness vanished, replaced by an open, unguarded concern.

He didn't even spare me another glance before turning and striding toward the door.

Watching his back, I allowed myself a small, cold smile.

The fish had taken the bait.