Page 104 of The Drama King

Her scent had transformed completely from when we'd first encountered her: no longer wild jasmine but something richer, more complex, layered with our combined claims but dominated by the undeniable marker of perfect compatibility with Dorian.

And beneath that, something else. Something that called to me specifically, a secondary compatibility that wasn't as rare as a primary fated match but still precious beyond measure.

I leaned closer, breathing deeply at the curve of her throat where my claiming bite stood out against her skin. There it was: the subtle chemical signature that marked her as compatible with me too, a secondary bond that complemented the primary connection with Dorian.

My chest tightened with possessive satisfaction at the bond, protective instinct toward our newly discovered treasure, and crushing guilt over everything we'd put her through to get here.

"The secondary bond is strong with you," Corvus observed quietly from his position by the windows. His dark eyes missed nothing, cataloging every micro-expression with clinical precision. "Stronger than I expected."

I nodded, unable to find words. Corvus seemed less affected than Dorian or me, his analytical mind always maintaining distance even in moments of intense significance.

"Pack dynamics are shifting," he continued, his voice pitched low. "Dorian's primary bond is undeniable, but your connection..." He paused, studying me with new interest. "It's more than typical secondary compatibility."

Before I could respond, Vespera stirred, a small sound of distress escaping her as the heat began to build again. The scentof it filled the room: wild jasmine transformed by claiming and compatibility into something desperately enticing.

Dorian was instantly awake, ice-blue eyes sharp with protective focus. "Another wave," he murmured, his hand gentle on her flushed cheek. "Your turn, Oakley. She needs the secondary bond reinforced."

It wasn't a question. Pack hierarchy and biology both demanded it.

Vespera's eyes fluttered open, fever-bright but clearer than during the night's frenzy. When her gaze found mine, something shifted in her expression—recognition, need, but also a wariness that made my chest ache.

"Oakley," she whispered, my name on her lips sending heat straight through me.

"I'm here, sweetheart," I said, moving closer to the bed. The endearment slipped out naturally now, my caretaking instincts overwhelming everything else. "How are you feeling?"

"Hot," she admitted, her voice rough. "Empty. Like I need..." She trailed off, color flooding her cheeks despite the fever already burning there.

"Like you need to be filled," I finished gently, settling beside her on the bed. "That's normal during heat. Your body knows what it needs."

She nodded, biting her lower lip in a way that made my cock throb. Even in the throes of heat, she was still shy about voicing her desires, still fighting the biological imperatives driving her.

"Let me take care of you," I murmured, reaching out to stroke her hair. "We'll go slow. As slow as you need."

This time was different from our frantic claiming the night before. This time, I had the luxury of worship, of drawing out every sensation until she was trembling beneath my hands.

I started with gentle touches, mapping the curves of her body with reverent fingers. Her skin was fever-hot and silk-soft,marked with evidence of our claiming but still so responsive to every caress. When I traced the line of her collarbone, she arched into the touch with a soft gasp.

"So beautiful," I murmured, pressing kisses along her throat. "So perfect for us."

My mouth found the claiming bite I'd left on her neck, pressing gently against the sensitive mark. She whimpered at the contact, her body instinctively responding to the reinforcement of our bond.

"Please," she breathed, her hands fisting in the sheets. "I need—"

"I know what you need," I assured her, my voice dropping to something low and soothing. "Let me give it to you."

I took my time exploring her body, reacquainting myself with every curve and hollow. My hands skimmed over her breasts, thumbs brushing across peaked nipples until she was gasping and arching beneath me. When I replaced my fingers with my mouth, sucking gently at one tight bud, she cried out and buried her hands in my hair.

"Oakley," she moaned, my name a prayer on her lips.

I lavished attention on her breasts until she was writhing, then kissed my way down her body. Her skin tasted like salt and sweetness, with an underlying flavor that was purely her. When I reached the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, I could smell the evidence of her need—rich and intoxicating.

"What are you—" she started, then gasped as I pressed kisses to her heated skin.

"Taking care of you," I murmured against her thigh. "Making sure you have everything you need."

When I settled between her legs, she tensed initially, but the heat burning through her system quickly overrode any embarrassment. I started gentle, just soft kisses and careful touches, letting her adjust to the intimacy.

The first stroke of my tongue against her slick folds made her cry out, her back arching off the bed. She tasted like honey and desperation, like everything I'd been craving without knowing it.