A Lion in the Den

I arrived at the Bennett manor with thunder in my blood. My sleek black Bentley rolled to a stop on the circular driveway, the mansion looming before me like a fortress. I adjusted my cufflinks, a habit when my wolf was too close to the surface. Tonight, he paced restlessly beneath my skin, demanding action.

When my driver opened the door, I stepped out and inhaled deeply. The night air carried familiar scents—expensive cologne, freshly cut grass, and something else. Something faint but unmistakable.

Seraphina.

Arthur Bennett was already waiting at the grand entrance, his thin frame practically vibrating with nervous energy. Behind him stood his wife Charlotte, wearing a practiced smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Alpha Valois," Arthur stepped forward, extending his hand. "What an unexpected honor."

I clasped his hand firmly, my grip just tight enough to make him wince. "Is it? I was quite clear when I called that I expected dinner."