I tugged at the collar. It fit too tightly and the leather was rough against my skin.
Kieran swatted my hand away.
“That collar belonged to my dog,” Kieran said, stroking the small metal tag that hung from the black leather strap around my neck. His voice was soft, almost fond, as if he were reminiscing. “He was a good pup. His collar will remind you that you need to be a good pup.”
A good pup? I was a werewolf! An Alpha’s daughter. I was no one’s pet.
Kieran’s words were meant to humiliate, to put me in my place. He wanted me to argue, to talk back and give him an excuse to punish me.
I swallowed the bitter taste rising in my throat, forcing myself to meet his eyes. My lip curled, but I didn’t move or speak. I had learned my lesson the hard way.
For now, playing docile was safer. K
