Page 48 of The Drama King

My fingers found the oil I kept in the nightstand drawer, preparing him with efficient movements that had him pressing back against my touch within moments.

"Please," he whispered, the word muffled against the expensive bedding.

"Please what?" I demanded, adding another finger, stretching him carefully despite the urgency clawing at my chest.

"Please, Alpha. I need—" He broke off with a gasp as I crooked my fingers, finding that spot that made him shake.

"What you need," I said, positioning myself behind him, "is to remember why you follow my lead. Why you trust my judgment about Vespera."

I pressed inside slowly, watching his body accept me with the ease of long practice. The tight heat of him, the way he surrendered completely despite his earlier protests. It was intoxicating proof that biology trumped ideology every time.

"Fuck," he breathed, pushing back to take me deeper.

I set a brutal pace, using his body to work through the frustration of his questioning, the possessive need that Vespera had awakened in me. Each thrust was a reminder of our hierarchy, of why his doubts were irrelevant compared to my certainty.

"This is what she needs," I panted, gripping his hips hard enough to leave bruises. "What they all need. To understand their place, their purpose."

"Yes, Alpha," he gasped, his voice breaking as I hit that perfect angle. "Yes, fuck, please! Fuck me!"

His submission was complete now, all traces of moral objection dissolved in the face of physical domination. This was our truth. Not the careful rationalizations or ideological debates, but the primal reality of Alpha dominance and submission.

When I reached around to stroke his leaking cock, he came with a broken cry, his body clenching around me in waves that triggered my own release. I buried myself deep, marking him internally the way I'd mark Vespera soon enough.

Afterward, as he lay trembling beneath me, I pressed a gentle kiss to the nape of his neck.

"Do you understand now?" I asked quietly. "Why questioning me is pointless?"

He nodded against the pillow, completely pliant in the aftermath. "Yes, Alpha."

"Good." I pulled out carefully, watching my seed leak from his well-used body with satisfaction. "Clean up and get some sleep. We have a theater outing to prepare for."

As he headed toward my bathroom, I retrieved my phone and checked the latest surveillance update on Vespera. Still working late, still fighting to prove herself worthy of remaining at Northwood.

Soon, she'd learn the same lesson Oakley had just been reminded of. That biology was destiny, that submission was inevitable, and that fighting only made the eventual surrender sweeter.

I fell asleep, accompanied by dreams of blonde hair and defiant green eyes that would soon learn to look at me with the same surrendering devotion I saw in Oakley's.

eighteen

Vespera

TheGrandTheaterloomedagainst the early November sky, its Art Deco façade illuminated by vintage marquee lights announcing "THE DUCHESS OF MALFI – LIMITED REVIVAL ENGAGEMENT." Rain fell in a steady mist, catching the colored lights and transforming downtown into a blurred impressionist painting. I huddled deeper into my secondhand wool coat, grateful that at least the department had provided transportation. Charter buses idled at the curb, disgorging theater students into the damp evening.

"You okay?" Stephanie murmured, linking her arm through mine as we joined the crowd moving toward the theater entrance. "You've been quiet all day."

I forced a smile I didn't feel. "Just tired. And not exactly thrilled about spending my evening watching a revenge tragedy with," I broke off, my eyes catching on three familiar figuresalready standing in the lobby, visible through the glass doors. "Them."

Stephanie followed my gaze, her expression hardening when she spotted Dorian, Corvus, and Oakley greeting Professor Williamson with practiced charm. Even from a distance, they exuded privilege and entitlement. Designer overcoats, cashmere scarves, the casual confidence of those who had never questioned their right to occupy any space.

"Just stick with me and Robbie," Stephanie said, squeezing my arm. "Safety in numbers, right?"

But that was the problem. Robbie had texted an hour ago that he'd caught some kind of stomach bug and couldn't make it. He'd apologized profusely, but his absence left a gaping hole in our usual defensive strategy.

"About that," I said, biting my lip. "Robbie's sick. It's just us tonight."

Stephanie's face fell momentarily before she rallied. "Well, two is better than one. We'll buddy system this thing. No bathroom breaks alone, no separating for any reason."

I nodded, grateful for her determination even as anxiety coiled tighter in my stomach. Since the showcase last week, the pack had been suspiciously quiet. No direct confrontations, no classroom intimidation. Just watchful silence that somehow felt more threatening than their usual tactics.