With the crisis averted, Kaelan immediately established a new order for their shared life. The political urgency was replaced by cold, possessive domesticity.
"The Clan has accepted the Mate-Contract," Kaelan stated, standing before the large window overlooking the dense forest. "Silas is imprisoned. Our partnership is now long-term. There will be no more resistance to the Command, and no more unauthorized hacking."
"And if I refuse the terms?" Anya challenged.
"You won't," Kaelan countered, turning, his eyes hard. "Because you understand that your best chance for survival is submission. I need your mind, and you need my protection."
He walked toward the private suite door. "The terms for our domestic arrangement are also changing. We share a room, but we do not share a life. We will maintain professional distance. There will be no emotional entanglement."
"That works for me," Anya snapped. "I still hate Shifters, Alpha."
"Good," he replied, opening the door. "Then this will be easy."
He entered the room and emerged a moment later with a bottle of expensive-looking cologne. He walked over to Anya, uncorking the bottle.
"The Mate Bond requires continuous affirmation of the Alpha's ownership to prevent pack interference," he explained, his voice low and serious. "The ritual must be daily. From now on, you will wear my Alpha Scent."
Anya watched in disbelief as he sprayed the heavy, masculine cologne—an artificial version of his primal musk—onto her wrists and throat. The scent was potent, dominating, and sickeningly comforting.
"You want me to smell like your property?" she whispered, humiliated.
"I want the Clan to know you are untouchable," Kaelan corrected. "This is not romance, Mate. This is security."