Page 46 of The Drama King

"You question our treatment of male Omegas," I said, circling him slowly like a predator assessing prey. "Yet you present for me whenever I demand it. You submit to Alpha dominance while condemning others for the same biology."

His hands clenched at his sides, jaw tight with the effort of maintaining composure. "It's not the same thing."

"Isn't it?" I stopped in front of him, close enough that our bodies almost touched. "The way you respond to my dominance, the sounds you make when I claim you. How is that different from what any Omega experiences?"

"Because I choose it," he said, his voice strained but determined. "I consent to our dynamic. Vespera doesn't have that choice."

The mention of her name sent a jolt through me. Possessive heat mixed with something I didn't want to examine too closely. "She will. When she understands what we're offering."

"And what are we offering?" His eyes searched mine, looking for something I wasn't sure I could give. "What's your endgame here, Dorian?"

I reached up to cup his face, thumb brushing over his cheekbone with deceptive gentleness. "The same thing I offered you. A place in our pack. Protection. Purpose."

"Through breaking her first?"

"Through teaching her surrender." My voice dropped lower, more intimate. "The way I taught you."

His pupils dilated at the reminder, body responding despite his ideological resistance. The contradiction was beautiful. This Alpha who could question our methods while melting under my touch.

"She's different from me," he said, but his resolve was weakening. "Stronger. More independent."

"Which makes her surrender more valuable." I let my hand drift down to his throat, feeling his pulse jump under my palm. "Imagine what she'll be like once she accepts her place with us. That fire, that talent, channeled into devotion instead of defiance."

"And if she doesn't surrender?"

I squeezed his throat gently, just enough to remind him of the power dynamics at play. "She will. They always do, eventually."

The possessive certainty in my voice made him shiver, and I could smell the subtle shift in his scent that meant his body was overriding his conscious objections.

"You're changing," he whispered, his hands coming up to rest against my chest. "This obsession with her. It's not like our other targets."

"No," I agreed, allowing honesty to creep into my voice. "It's not."

"What does that mean for us? For our pack?"

Instead of answering, I kissed him. Hard and claiming, swallowing his questions with the kind of physical dominance that had defined our relationship from the beginning. He melted into it with a soft sound of surrender, his body betraying everything his words had been fighting for.

When I pulled back, his eyes were dark with desire and defeat.

"It means you trust me," I said quietly. "The way you always have. The way you always will."

He nodded slowly, the fight draining out of him as biology and habit reasserted their hold. This was our pattern. Challenge followed by submission, moral questioning dissolved in the face of physical hierarchy.

"Go to my room," I ordered softly. "Wait for me there."

He hesitated for just a moment, the last vestige of his resistance flickering in his eyes. Then he nodded again and headed for the door, moving with the careful precision of someone whose body knew exactly what came next.

I remained by the fire for several minutes after he left, nursing my whiskey and considering the evening's revelations. Oakley's accusations of hypocrisy weren't entirely wrong. Our private dynamics did contradict our public positions on designation roles and proper behavior.

But that was the privilege of power: the ability to maintain different standards for ourselves than we imposed on others. Alpha meant never having to justify contradictions, never having to choose consistency over desire.

The phone in my pocket buzzed with a text message, and I smiled when I saw the sender, one of Corvus's surveillance contacts.

Subject left library 11:47 PM. Showing signs of stress and fatigue. No indication of heat approach yet. Continuing observation.

Vespera, working late despite her exhaustion, still fighting to prove herself worthy of remaining at Northwood. Still unaware that her fate had already been decided, that her struggles only made her more interesting to hunt.

I finished my whiskey and headed toward my suite, where Oakley would be waiting with the kind of obedience that proved some Alphas were more naturally suited to following than leading. The irony wasn't lost on me. We condemned male Omega submission while engaging in our own complex power exchanges.