The neuro-stabilizer, a black, wrist-mounted cuff connected to a specialized glove, was finally complete. When Kaelan activated it, a low, targeted current flowed through the nerves in his forearm. The debilitating tremor stopped instantly.
Kaelan flexed his hand, staring at the absolute stillness. "It works," he breathed, a raw, almost childlike shock in his voice. "The weakness is gone."
His gratitude, unfiltered and potent, flooded the Mate Bond. It was the first pure, non-possessive emotion Anya had received from him.
"It works only when the stabilization is powered," Anya reminded him, disconnecting the small power unit. "And the long-term stabilization requires constant monitoring, which means daily, supervised sessions. You are dependent on me, Alpha."
Kaelan's jaw tightened, the acknowledgment of his dependence a clear affront to his nature. He stood abruptly, towering over her, his Alpha Authority trying to reassert control.
"Do not mistake service for freedom, Mate," he warned, his voice low. "You are still my prisoner."
"And you are still my patient," Anya countered, meeting his gaze. "My freedom is irrelevant if your Pack falls because you can't aim a rifle."
She then initiated the daily Scenting ritual herself. She reached out, took the cologne bottle, and sprayed her wrists, then offered one wrist to him for inspection.
Kaelan stared, stunned by her proactive move. She was performing the ritual, but on her own terms, turning his dominance into routine.
He leaned in, his powerful form momentarily bowing to her control, and inhaled deeply. The bond pulsed with acceptance. She was his, and she was essential. The power struggle was no longer about escape; it was about defining the terms of their shared captivity.