Kaelan's movement was too fast. One massive hand cupped Anya's cheek, the other held her silver-tipped pistol, now useless. His blue eyes, burning with fierce, animal focus, were the last thing she saw clearly.
He didn't need her consent. He shifted his grip, his hand crushing the chain of her neck just enough to disable her. Before she could gasp, Kaelan drove his teeth into the sensitive skin below her collarbone.
It was more than pain; it was a white-hot spike of agony, instantly overshadowed by the primal invasion. She felt Kaelan's presence—a heavy, roaring current—imprinting itself on her. The dense weight of his Alpha Command settled in her chest, demanding obedience.
Then came the violation: she felt the echo of his emotions—fierce satisfaction at the claim, and a surge of crushing, instinctual protection directed solely at her.
Anya hated it, but her body betrayed her. An involuntary shiver of submission ran through her, fought by pure willpower.
Kaelan pulled back, his teeth receding. "It is done, Anya Rylan," he stated, his voice rougher, resonating with unwelcome authority. "You are bound to the Eastern Pack. You are mine."
She stumbled back, clutching the wound. Her hatred fought against the undeniable, visceral knowledge that this creature was now, biologically, her Mate. A dizzying wave of exhaustion hit her, and she collapsed, having surrendered her free will.