Kaelan turned back, his expression unreadable, but the familiar possessiveness was back in his eyes. He didn't apologize for his actions; he simply reaffirmed the power dynamic.
"Now, we work," he commanded. "But your elevated stress is interfering with the bond stability. We need to stabilize."
Anya braced herself. "I'm not doing any more of your quack doctor's 'comfort' exercises."
Kaelan ignored her. He moved to the private suite door and opened it, revealing the luxurious bedroom. He picked up two thick, white terrycloth robes and tossed one to her.
"Before we work, there is a nightly ritual required by the Clan, to confirm security and bond stability," he explained. "You will shower and change. I will wait."
Anya glared at the robe. "And if I refuse the 'ritual'?"
"You will violate the contract. And I will simply initiate the Alpha Command to ensure compliance," he replied, his tone utterly devoid of compromise.
Anya knew she couldn't win this battle of wills right now. She snatched the robe and stalked into the suite, slamming the door. The moment the water turned on, Kaelan stepped into the office, his back to the door, beginning his own work.
Anya felt the bond tighten—he was waiting for her. She was furious, but in the sterile, high-stakes terror of the Lycan Den, there was a tiny, unwelcome sense of security knowing the Alpha was guarding the door.