I'm not a pet

It did not take long for Kaela to learn exactly what kind of ceremony the Kingsley twins had been speaking of.

“Get up.”

A woman’s sharp voice cut through the last remnants of sleep. Rough hands dragged her from the bed. Kaela’s knees hit the floor before she fully registered what was happening. The silver chains that had bound her for days fell away with a heavy clatter. Freedom lasted only a heartbeat.

Four women—werewolves, strong and efficient—hauled her upright and marched her into an adjoining washroom. Steam already curled from a large copper tub filled with hot, scented water.

“The Alpha and his brother are waiting,” one of them said, voice softer than the others. Something like pity flickered across her face.

They stripped her without ceremony and forced her into the water. Heat enveloped tender, bruised skin. Kaela hissed, but the women gave her no time to adjust. Scratchy sponges scraped across her shoulders, down her back, over every inch of her body.

“I can do it myself—” she tried, reaching for a sponge.

They dunked her. Water flooded her mouth and nose. She came up coughing.

“Orders,” the fiercest of the four said. “No dirt remains for the ritual.”

The sponge dragged hard down her spine. Kaela stopped fighting. Shame burned hotter than the water as they washed every part of her—breasts, the soft skin of her stomach, the intimate place between her thighs—without hesitation or apology. One of them remarked bluntly that they could still smell the earlier arousal on her. Kaela’s face flamed.

At least they washed her hair thoroughly, strong fingers massaging her scalp until some of the tension melted. For a few dangerous seconds she almost forgot she was a captive.

The illusion ended the moment they dried her and presented the outfit.

Kaela stared.

“I am not wearing that.”

“You don’t have a choice,” one woman answered, already holding her arms. “The Alpha designed it for you.”

“He’s a pervert!”

A low warning growl answered her. Another woman spoke more coldly. “Destroy this one and there are others waiting. They make this look modest. Refuse those, and you will walk into the ceremony naked. The pack would enjoy the show.”

Kaela’s stomach turned. She believed them.

The “clothing” was little more than pale silk lingerie. The top plunged so low it barely covered the upper curves of her breasts, pushing them high and forward with no lining and no straps. The slightest movement threatened to expose her completely. The bottoms clung to her hips and the full shape of her backside yet covered almost nothing; any shift of air would leave her exposed. A scrap of translucent white lace served as underwear. And around her throat sat a slender collar fitted with a tiny silver bell that chimed with every breath.

She stood in front of the mirror, cheeks burning, and whispered the truth aloud.

“I’m not a pet.”

The bell answered her with a soft, mocking ring.