Chapter 3 The scent that ruined my life (in the best way)

•Chase•

I should have felt like a shark who’d just circled in on a bleeding prey. Instead, sitting on Freya Hart’s lopsided couch, I felt like a man who’d finally been handed the keys to his own execution.

And I was grinning about it.

Freya stood in her tiny kitchen like she was debating whether to poison my coffee or just throw the entire mug at my head. She was magnificent when she was furious—cheeks flushed, green eyes narrowed, that wolf of hers scratching so hard at the surface I could practically hear it snarling. Her scent wrapped around me like it always did: wild strawberries, lightning, and the particular brand of stubborn that had haunted my dreams since we were teenagers.

She hated me. Loudly. Publicly. With award-winning articles and press-conference barbs that made my PR team cry.

My wolf? That bastard was rolling over like a lovesick puppy, tail thumping, chanting Mate. Mate. Finally.

I told him to shut up. He never listened.

“You’re staring,” Freya said, sliding a mug across the counter like it was a peace offering. “It’s creepy. Stop it, or the deal’s off before it starts.”

I took the coffee—black, bitter, exactly how I liked my women before they ruined me—and leaned back, stretching my legs out. The couch creaked. 

“Can’t help it, Hart. You’re prettier when you’re plotting my demise. It’s the fire in the eyes. Very becoming on a future fake fiancée.”

She snorted, a sound that was half laugh, half growl. 

“Flattery? From the man whose ego needs its own zip code? I expected better material from MLB’s resident cocky prick.”

“That’s Mr. Cocky Prick to you. We’re engaged now. Might as well make it official.” I winked, because winding her up was my favorite sport, second only to actually playing baseball. 

But underneath the smirk, my chest felt too tight. 

Ten years of watching from afar, of anonymously checking up on Frey. The story about that night wasn’t mine to tell. So I’d taken the blame. Let the scouts, the media, and especially Freya believe I’d been the hot-headed rival who’d cost him everything.

Worth it, I’d told myself. Right up until my sister died and Sophie’s nightmares started shredding what was left of my sanity.

Freya crossed her arms, studying me like I was a scandal she was about to expose. “Ground rules again, Bennett. I say them, you nod like a good fake fiancé, and we both pretend this isn’t the worst idea since that time you fought three bears in Tahoe.”

“Wolves,” I corrected with a cocky tilt of my head. “They were wolves. And I won.”

“Barely.” She ticked off her fingers. “No touching unless the Council’s watching. No digging into each other’s tragic backstories. No actual sleeping together—yes, I saw that smirk, wipe it off your face. And absolutely, one hundred percent, no falling in love. That part’s non-negotiable.”

I let the smile stretch wider, even as my wolf whined at the words. ‘She doesn’t mean it. Her scent spikes every time she says it.’

“Hate me all you want, Freya. You’re not my type anyway.”

Another lie, slick as a fastball on the outside corner. She was exactly my type. Had been since the day she was fourteen and I was sixteen, back when she’d decked me square in the jaw after I’d called her brother weak for missing a pitch. 

Her fist had connected, my lip had split, and her scent had slammed into me like fate wearing cleats. ‘Mine.’ The word had echoed in my bones before I even understood what a fated mate was. 

Now here we were. My sister was gone, and 

Sophie had been terrified and withdrawn ever since. The Council was sniffing around, ready to declare me unfit at the slightest provocation. Their final decision not to grant me custody was devastating. Sophie was all I had left of my sister.

Atleast, the fake claiming mark would buy us time. 

Six months was enough to get Sophie stable again.

My phone buzzed on the coffee table. Sophie’s nanny. I answered before the second ring.

“Talk to me.”

“Another nightmare, Chase.” Maria’s voice was tired but kind. She was one of the few humans who knew what we were and wasn’t scared. “She shifted halfway in her sleep again. Claws in the blankets. She kept calling for her mom… and then for you. And someone named Luna? I got her settled with warm milk, but she’s asking when you’re coming home.”

Luna. 

My wolf perked up so fast I nearly dropped the phone. Sophie had taken one look at the leaked photos of me and Freya from that press conference and decided the sharp-tongued journalist was already family. Kids and their instincts—dangerous things.

“I’m on my way,” I said, voice dropping into that low alpha register that usually calmed pups. “Tell her Uncle Chase is bringing reinforcements. And maybe pancakes in the morning.”

I hung up and caught Freya watching me. The humor in her eyes had softened into something dangerously close to curiosity. She hid it fast, but not fast enough. Her scent had shifted too—less lightning, more warm. Like her wolf was listening.

“Sophie?” she asked, trying for casualness and failing.

“Yes, she thinks monsters under the bed are real because sometimes they are.” I stood, towering over her small apartment like I didn’t belong there. Which I didn’t. 

My pack house sat on fifty acres of forest outside the city, full moon runs every month. This place felt like a cage. (Just kidding)

“She’s had a rough six weeks. Nightmares about the crash. Her wolf’s strong—alpha markers are already showing. Her grand-parents wants to ship her off to some rigid Council academy where they’ll ‘train the wild out of her.’ Over my dead body.”

Freya’s jaw tightened. 

For a second I saw the big sister she’d always been. Finding out that Freya had a latent wolf wasn’t out of curiosity—Frey had told me that night. If she shifted now, after all these years, it would hurt like hell. Part of me wanted to wrap her in my arms and promise she’d never have to. The cocky part wanted to tease her until she punched me again just to feel her skin on mine.

Instead I pulled an envelope from my jacket. 

“Lawyer’s already drawn it up. Temporary claiming mark—my bite, your neck, magical but reversible after six months. Public appearances, Council inspections, the occasional viral kiss-cam moment because baseball fans are nosy bastards. In return, your debts vanish by morning. Frey gets the best healer money and pack connections can buy.”

She took the papers like they might bite her. Which was fair—my bite was going to leave a mark that glowed for weeks. The thought of my teeth on her throat made my wolf surge forward, eyes flashing gold. I shoved him down.

Freya scanned the contract, lips quaking in that dry humor I’d missed. “Clause 14: ‘No scent-marking outside designated fake-bonding hours.’ You actually let your lawyer write that?”

“I told him to cover all bases. My wolf’s… enthusiastic.” I stepped closer, close enough that her scent flooded me again. Home. “But don’t worry. I’m not the monster you think I am. Even if I did cost your brother his future.”

Shit. I shouldn’t have said that. 

She looked up at me, eyes bright with something that wasn’t entirely hatred. “I still hate you, Chase.”

There it was again. That spike in her pulse. My wolf preened.

“Good,” I said, flashing the grin that sold out stadiums. “Hate keeps things interesting. Pack house tomorrow at six. Bring whatever you may need. And for the record, Sophie’s already picked out your bedroom—right next to mine.”

I headed for the door before I did something stupid like pull her against me and confess that I’d fallen first, hardest, and longest. That watching my sister’s casket go into the ground had made me realize life was too short for ten more years of secret pining.

“Chase.”

I paused in the doorway, cocking an eyebrow.

She smirked, all armor. “If you snore, I’m staking you with a baseball bat.”

I laughed, the sound genuine for the first time in weeks. “Wouldn’t dream of it, future mate. See you tomorrow. Try not to miss me too much.”

As I climbed into my truck, the city lights blurring past, my phone lit up with another message from Maria: Sophie’s sleeping now.  I hope you have a safe trip back.

That made me smile.

My hands tightened on the wheel. The temporary mark might be fake on paper, but my wolf had already decided. Six months? The bond was already humming under my skin, whispering that Freya Hart had always been mine.

Rules be damned.

I was going to enjoy watching every single one of them shatter. And if I had to be soft, hard, arrogant, and a little bit desperate to get there? Well.

I’d always been good at winning games that looked impossible.