Page 37 of The Drama King

Almost. Because she was too smart to trust an Alpha who'd spent weeks tormenting her, no matter how real that kiss had felt. She thought it was just another game, another manipulation.

And why wouldn't she? I'd given her every reason to believe the worst of me.

The real question wasn't what I was willing to sacrifice. It was how to protect her without destroying the only brotherhood I'd ever known. How to be decent without being disloyal. How to prove myself through actions when every move I made would be scrutinized by both sides.

Standing there in the house Dorian's family had opened to me, I realized I was trapped between two versions of myself—the Alpha who owed everything to his pack, and the man who couldn't forget how right she'd felt in his arms.

Tomorrow, I'd have to choose which one to be.

But tonight, I just stood there, caught between loyalty and longing, knowing that whatever I chose, someone would get hurt.

fourteen

Vespera

Halloweendecorationslinedthetheater building lobby. Paper ghosts fluttered from air vents, fake cobwebs stretched across corners, and professionally carved jack-o'-lanterns cast eerie shadows from strategic positions. The Corrington School of Theatre's annual Fall Showcase drew audiences from across the industry, and tonight's event would determine which first-year students would continue to receive the department's investment.

For scholarship students, it was quite literally make or break.

"Fifteen minutes to places," the student stage manager called, clipboard clutched to her chest as she hurried past the dressing rooms. Unlike regular classes, tonight's showcase would be performed before a packed audience—faculty, advanced students, local theater professionals, and even a few talent scouts from New York.

I nodded acknowledgment and returned to applying the finishing touches to my makeup. The department's resident artist had done most of the work, transforming me . Hair pulled into an elegant updo with tendrils framing my face, eyes dramatically lined, lips painted a deep crimson that matched the silk wrap dress I wore for my modernized interpretation.

The stakes couldn't be higher. Professor De Scarzis had made it clear that tonight's performances would directly influence spring semester casting decisions and scholarship renewals. This was my chance to prove that my talent could speak louder than my designation, louder than the whisper campaign the pack had been waging against me.

I needed a moment alone to center myself, to find the emotional core of Lady Macbeth beneath my own anxiety. Slipping out of the crowded makeup room, I made my way to a quiet alcove backstage where performers often gathered their thoughts before going on.

The semi-darkness comforted me as I closed my eyes and began my breathing exercises. In for four counts, hold for seven, out for eight. I was so focused on my breath that I didn't hear the footsteps until it was too late.

"Preparing for your big moment?"

My eyes flew open to find Dorian Ashworth standing directly in front of me, blocking the narrow exit from the alcove. His sandalwood scent immediately filled the small space, overwhelming my senses and triggering the instinctive Omega response I'd been fighting for months.

Tonight he looked like the wealthy patron he would someday become. Perfectly tailored black suit, hair styled with casual precision, a silver watch that probably cost more than my entire scholarship. He belonged at events like this, while I was fighting for the right to even be here.

"What do you want?" I managed, hating how my voice trembled. "I need to prepare."

He smiled, the expression never reaching his ice-blue eyes. "That's exactly what I'm here to help with. Every performer needs the right motivation." His gaze traveled over my costume with obvious appreciation. "You look exquisite. Like you were born for the stage."

The compliment was so unexpected it momentarily disarmed me. But then he stepped closer, crowding me against the wall, and I remembered exactly who I was dealing with.

His height and broad shoulders created a cage of Alpha presence, his scent intensifying as he deliberately released more pheromones. "Your Lady Macbeth needs to project power while harboring secret vulnerability," he murmured, his voice dropping to an intimate register that sent unwanted shivers down my spine. "What better way to access that duality than carrying my scent on stage?"

"Don't," I whispered, but it was already happening.

Dorian leaned in, his face moving to the junction of my neck and shoulder with deliberate precision. I felt his breath first, warm against my skin, before his nose pressed directly against my scent gland. The contact sent shockwaves through my nervous system as he inhaled deeply, drawing my natural scent into his lungs with obvious satisfaction.

But then he did something that made my blood freeze. He exhaled slowly against my throat, releasing a concentrated burst of his own Alpha pheromones directly onto my scent gland. The sandalwood scent penetrated my skin, marking me as thoroughly as if he'd bitten me. My body convulsed involuntarily as the foreign pheromones hijacked my nervous system, triggering responses I couldn't control.

"There," he murmured against my throat, his lips barely brushing my skin. "Now you're properly prepared for your performance."

The violation was so complete, so intimate, that for a moment I couldn't speak. He'd essentially drugged me with his scent, ensuring that every person in the theater would smell his claim on me.

"You—" I gasped, my voice breaking as unwanted heat flooded my system. "You can't just—that's not—"

"Not what?" he asked, pulling back just enough to study my face. His ice-blue eyes cataloged every change in my expression, every involuntary response. "Not appropriate? Not professional?" His smile turned sharp. "I was simply helping a fellow actor access authentic emotion. Isn't that what method acting is about?"

My body's reaction horrified me. Pupils dilating despite my revulsion, pulse racing with artificial arousal, skin flushing with heat that had nothing to do with desire and everything to do with biological hijacking. The Alpha pheromones coursing through my system were overriding my conscious mind, making me respond as if I wanted this violation.