Chapter 1

Six years of dating Caelum Voss, and he slid a document across the table.

I thought it was a mate registration form. I reached for the pen, ready to sign.

The heading read: MISTRESS AGREEMENT.

Three-year term. On call at all times. Renewal subject to satisfaction.

My fingers went cold. "Caelum. What exactly is this?"

He lit a cigarette with the ease of a man unbothered by anything, his voice light and careless and cruel all at once.

"The pack elders have been pushing hard. My father already arranged a status-matched bond for me. I need to register a formal mate."

"Then what am I?" My voice came out rough.

He looked up and smiled, thin and without warmth. "Be fair to me, love."

"Your father abandoned your mother and came crawling back sick. You supported him. Your ex drained you dry and left you with his debts. You paid those, too."

"All I am asking is that you step into the shadows. That is not unreasonable."

The terms sat on the page in clean, merciless lines.

Party B shall remain available on demand and shall not inquire into Party A's whereabouts.

Party B shall not display physical affection toward Party A in any public setting.

Should Party B become pregnant, the matter shall be resolved at Party B's sole discretion.

I stared at that last line. My hand moved to my stomach without thinking. My fingertips were ice.

Caelum reclined on the sofa, smoke curling from between his fingers.

His eyes drifted over me.

"Sign it." He flicked the ash. "What are you waiting for?"

I set the contract down.

My voice shook with something I refused to call grief. "Caelum. We have been together six years."

"So?" He almost laughed. "Six years, and you still have not walked through the front door, have you?"

That landed exactly where he intended.

Six years.

He had taken me to pack functions and family gatherings too many times to count.

The introduction was always: " My assistant.”

His mother had pulled me aside more than once to suggest, warmly, that a woman my age ought to be thinking about settling down.

I had believed she was nudging us toward a formal bond.

She had been nudging me out the door in the most civilized way she knew.

"Then what were these six years?" I asked.

He crushed the cigarette out, stood, and crossed to me.

"Mutual benefit."

He reached out and ran his thumb along my jaw. "Sera. You gave me six years, and I covered six years of your life. How many medical bills did your salary actually cover? That debt your ex left behind, you cleared it on my account."

He paused, then smiled. "You used me freely. Now I want to keep using you. That is an equal exchange."

My eyes burned. I did not let a single tear fall.

He had not said it before, but that did not make it untrue now.

My father had walked out on my mother and come back broken and old. I had been too soft to turn him away.

His care had emptied every account I had.

As for my ex, he had barely been more than a stranger who called us official one month and disappeared the next.

I only found out he had taken out loans in my name when the collectors showed up at the doors of pack headquarters.

It had been Caelum who made that problem disappear.

I had always known I owed him. I had not known he was keeping score.

"So," I said, stepping back from his hand, "you are telling me these six years held no real feeling. Only investment."

Caelum laughed once. "Investment? What investment value do you think you have?"

He produced a card and set it beside the contract.

"Five million. Sign, and it is yours."

"Three years as my mistress. Renew after that if you want. Walk away if you do not. Either way, the money is yours."

I looked down at the card.

Five million.

Enough to clear every debt. Not enough to buy me.

That sentence circled three times in my throat and never came out.

Because I thought of my father's care facility and the overdue notice already sitting in my bag.

Caelum knew I had nothing left to pay with.

That was why he could drop that card in front of me like he was tossing a bone and waiting to see if I would take it.

"What is wrong?" He watched me go still, then lit another cigarette. "Not enough?"

I said nothing.

"Fair enough. Six years of your life, five million is not generous." He exhaled slowly, and the smoke drifted into my face, stinging my eyes.

"But that is mistress pricing. Not mate pricing. That is the number your position is worth right now."

He let that settle, then added, "Of course, you are free not to sign. If you do not, you cannot stay in the apartment either."

Something clenched hard around my chest.

Six years in that apartment. I had stopped thinking of it as his.

The succulents on the balcony were ones I had chosen and tended pot by pot. The spice rack in the kitchen was arranged the way I liked it.

The photo on the nightstand had always been the two of us.

I had believed it was our home.

It turned out I had always been a tenant he could clear out whenever he chose.