The words hit me harder than a slap to my face would, but his voice is almost gentle. Like he's explaining something simple to someone who's being deliberately obtuse.
I have to fight down the words bubbling up in my throat that tell him just where he can shove every last bit of property he has. "Anything else? Or are you done marking your territory?"
"Funny you should mention that." He reaches into his jacket, pulling out a small velvet jewelry box. "There's one more thing."
That had better not be a fucking ring in there.
He opens the box and I freeze. It's the only thing that could beworsethan a ring.
It's a collar. A delicate silver collar designed to look like an expensive choker to anyone who doesn't look too close. But I can see what it really is. The subtle lock mechanism at the back. The loop where a leash or tag could be attached.
"You're fucking joking, Kade."
"Do I look like I'mfucking joking, Princess?" He pulls it from the box, letting it catch the light. "You'll wear this at all times. It's subtle enough for your fancy functions and pretty enough that people will think it's just jewelry. But you'll know what it is.We'llknow what it is."
"Kade—"
"Turn around."
It's an order, not a request. I glower at him as I turn—the contract said fuck all about glowering—and gather my hair over one shoulder, exposing the column of my neck to him.
I feel him step closer, the heat of his body radiating against my back.
"Good girl," he murmurs as he slides the cold metal collar around my throat and clicks the lock into place.
It fits like it was made for me.
It probably was.
"There." Kade’s breath ghosts across my ear. "Now everyone will know you're ours. Because this doesn't come off, Princess. Not for showers, not for sleeping, not for anything. It stays on until your year is up."
I'd assumed he meant a few days, maybe a week, when I read the part in the contract about how I had to wear a collar for as long as he wants.
Guess a year fits the bill.
I'm still tempted to rip the collar off and throw it in his smug face. But if I'm being completely honest with myself, I've had so many fucked up dreams about scenarios along these lines that there's a part of me that preened at his praise. And it'sstillpreening.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
Shit. I really have lost my mind.
"Anything else?" I manage to ask, wondering if he can tell how red my ears are right now. I hope to god my hair is covering them.
"Just one more thing." He steps back, and I turn to face all four of them. Kade spreads his arms wide, a smile stretching across his face. "Welcome home, Princess."
Home.
Kade is more wrong about that than anything else so far. Home was a rusted RV and Conquest and five kids against the world. Home was Before.
This isAfter.
Tank stands suddenly, rising to his full height at a speed that actually makes me take a step back from him for the first time in my life. He pulls something from his pocket and holds it out to me in his gloved palm. It's so small in his hand, it takes me a moment to register it's a phone.
I'm sure it's alreadyloadedwith tracking software courtesy of Cyrus.
"So you can reach us," Kade explains. "And sowecan reachyou. Your old number will be forwarded to this one. This is the only one you're allowed to use now, and Cy here is gonna be monitoring everything that goes in or out—just in case you decide to talk to any of your little trust fund brat friends. If one of us calls or texts, you have exactly one minute to answer before we hunt you down and drag your ass back here. Understood?"
I take the phone from Tank, our fingers brushing. Those dark eyes soften for just a moment, just long enough to steal the breath from my lungs, but then it's gone.
