Anya emerged from the bathroom wrapped in the thick white robe, her hair damp. Kaelan was waiting, not looking at her, but she felt the bond snap to attention.
"The next step of the ritual," he stated, without turning, "is scent affirmation. It confirms stability after external exposure."
"No," Anya snapped, planting her feet. "I will not be treated like a pet dog."
"It's not a request, Mate. It's necessary," Kaelan countered, his voice flat. He turned, his blue eyes intense. "Alpha Command: Approach and submit to scent affirmation."
The familiar compulsion hit her, weaker than before, but insistent. She fought it, trembling, but her feet dragged forward, betraying her will. She stopped inches from him, radiating fury.
Kaelan lifted his hand, not to strike, but to cup her neck, his thumb resting near the faded bite mark. The contact was electric and grounding. He leaned in, his powerful chest brushing hers, and inhaled deeply from her hair and neck. His eyes closed momentarily, a flash of pure, primal satisfaction crossing his face.
"Stable," he murmured, pulling back. "The ritual is complete."
Anya stood paralyzed, her entire body screaming betrayal. The hatred was still there, but it was fighting against a terrifying, involuntary calm the contact had brought. She finally understood: the ritual wasn't for security; it was his way of reasserting physical and psychological dominance.