Anya woke to the scent of cedar and that heavy, familiar musk that now made her stomach clench. She was in Kaelan's king-sized bed, wearing a soft, unfamiliar silk nightgown. She was in the heart of the Lycan Den.
She scrambled off the bed, noting the healed, pink scar on her neck—the only mark of the bond, besides the constant, intrusive hum that told her Kaelan was nearby. She snatched a porcelain vase, ready to fight.
The door hissed open. It wasn't Kaelan, but Zara, a tall, elegant Beta with ice-blue eyes. "Good. You're awake, Mate," Zara sneered, catching the vase Anya threw one-handed.
"Don't waste energy, human," Zara said. "The Contract means you obey."
The scent of pine and ozone thickened as Kaelan stepped in. "Put the vase down, Mate," he commanded, his voice level.
Anya felt a horrifying, physical tug deep in her core, demanding obedience. She fought it with sheer hatred, jamming her hands into fists.
"Drop the vase, Anya." The Alpha Command was absolute.
Her muscles seized, her fingers released, and the vase shattered. Shame and terror washed over her as she realized her free will was compromised.