Page 116 of The Drama King

"Yes, I am," I said with absolute certainty, and bit down gently on the claiming mark.

The response was devastating. Her whole body shuddered, a moan escaping her that she couldn't hold back, her legs tightening around my hips in a completely involuntary response. The scent of her arousal spiked so sharply it was almost overwhelming.

"See how your body knows the truth even when your mind is fighting it?" I murmured, tracing the mark with my tongue. "See how you respond to your Alpha's attention, your mate's touch?"

"This isn't fair," she gasped, but she was tilting her head to give me better access, her body overriding her mental protests with drive.

"Biology isn't about fairness," I said, working my way up her throat with deliberate precision. "It's about compatibility. Connection. The recognition of a perfect match."

I could feel her resistance crumbling with each touch, each scent exchange, each reminder of what the bond meant on a physical level. This was what she was trying to reject. Not just me, not just the pack, but this perfect symphony that played between us whenever we were in proximity.

"I hate this," she whispered, but her hands were tangling in my hair now, holding me against her throat. "I hate how you can make me feel this way."

"You don't hate it," I corrected, moving to capture her lips in a kiss that was more claim than caress. "You hate that you want it. That your body knows what your mind is trying to reject."

When we broke apart, she was breathing hard, her green eyes dilated and unfocused. I could smell her surrender in the air between us. Not mental acceptance, but capitulation to the bond's demands.

"This is why you can't reject the bond," I said, my voice rough with satisfaction and continuing need. "Because even when you're fighting it intellectually, your body knows what it needs. Knows who you belong with."

Something shifted in her expression then, a hardness returning that cut through the haze. "You're proving my point," she said, her voice steadying despite her obvious arousal. "You're showing me exactly why I need to leave."

The words hit like cold water, confusion cutting through my possessive satisfaction. "What?"

"This," she said, gesturing between us with a shaking hand. "What you just did. Using my biology against me, manipulating my responses to override my choices. This is exactly why the bond is coercion rather than connection."

"I was showing you—"

"You were assaulting me," she said flatly, and the word hit like a physical blow. "You cornered me, touched me without consent,used my responses to prove a point about ownership. Do you see the problem with that?"

I did see it, suddenly and with horrible clarity. What I'd experienced as reclaiming my mate, she'd experienced as a demonstration of how little control she had over her own body, her own responses, her own life.

"Vespera, I—"

"You proved that you'll never respect my autonomy," she continued, her voice gaining strength as she processed what had happened. "That you'll use every tool available. Physical, emotional, biological. To get what you want regardless of my consent."

The accusation was accurate and devastating. I had done exactly what she described, justified it with drives and mate rights that didn't actually override her personhood.

"I didn't mean—" I started, but she cut me off.

"Yes, you did," she said with quiet certainty. "You meant every bit of it. Just like you meant every moment of the systematic torture you put me through for months. The only difference is now you call it biology instead of bullying."

She pushed past me toward the door, and I found myself unable to stop her, paralyzed by the recognition of what I'd done and how badly I'd miscalculated.

"Vespera, wait—"

"No," she said without turning around. "I'm done waiting. I'm done hoping you might actually change, might actually see me as a person instead of a possession to be managed."

She paused at the door, looking back with eyes that held no anger, just a terrible resigned clarity.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "For making it clear that bond rejection isn't just an option. It's the only choice I have left."

And then she was gone, leaving me standing in the small study room with the scent of her arousal and fear lingering in the air,finally understanding that I'd lost the one thing I couldn't bear to lose.

My fated mate.

Because I'd been too Alpha, too possessive, too convinced of my own rights to see her as anything more than a prize to be claimed and kept.

The realization was more painful than any separation anxiety I'd experienced, cutting deeper than physical withdrawal to something essential in my chest.