"And if I refuse?"
Caspian fastened the collar with reverent slowness. His cool fingers brushed the nape of her neck, and she shivered. The opal grew warm against her throat, then settled into a gentle hum.
He placed his hand over her heart.
"You misunderstand," he murmured. "A companion implies choice. A blood source implies charity." He leaned in, and she caught the scent of night-blooming jasmine and old copper. "You will be my contracted mate. Bound by Nocturne law. Your body, your blood, your scent —all mine. In return, I will not let your pack starve."
"Enter," she said, because omegas were taught to obey.
She touched her cheek. She was.
Caspian rose. He moved without sound, appearing before her in a whisper of cold air. He tilted her chin up with one finger. His skin was cool, but not icy. Alive, but not living.