Page 62 of The Drama King

"And that's exactly what makes her perfect," he said with possessive certainty. "The fight makes the surrender so much sweeter. Just like you're about to surrender for me, aren't you, Corvus?"

The possessive claim, the way he owned both the moment and my response to it, pushed me over the edge. I came hard, spilling over my hand while he watched with clinical interest, as if cataloging my submission for future reference.

"Good," he murmured as the last aftershock faded. "Now you know exactly where you stand in this new arrangement."

He pulled out a handkerchief and tossed it to me with casual dismissal. "Clean yourself up. And Corvus? Next time youwant to watch my private moments, you ask permission first. Everything involving her goes through me now. Are we clear?"

I nodded, understanding the new hierarchy he'd established with ruthless efficiency. "Crystal clear."

"Excellent." His smile was sharp with satisfaction. "She's mine now, in the ways that matter. Remember that when you're planning your next move."

As he left, I remained in the security office, processing what had just occurred. The game had indeed entered a new phase. One where Dorian's personal investment in Vespera gave him unprecedented control over pack decisions.

But it also created new vulnerabilities, new pressure points that could be exploited by someone patient enough to wait for the right moment. Her continued resistance, even in surrender, was a crack in his armor he didn't seem to recognize yet.

The hunt was far from over. It was simply evolving.

twenty-four

Vespera

Irecognizedthesymptomsas soon as I woke up.

The slight fever. The hypersensitivity of my skin against cotton sheets. The restless energy humming through my veins. The telltale ache deep in my core.

Pre-heat.

"Fuck," I whispered to the empty room, grabbing my phone to check the date.

December 3rd. Two weeks early.

My heat wasn't due until mid-December, safely after finals and just in time for winter break. I'd planned meticulously around my cycle, as I always did—scheduling my suppressant regimen, arranging for absences from classes, ensuring I had a safe place to ride it out. All for nothing, apparently.

The theater assault and its aftermath had thrown my body into chaos. Stress could do that to Omegas. Trigger early heats, intensify symptoms, disrupt carefully maintained biologicalrhythms. And the past few weeks had been nothing but concentrated stress.

Rolling onto my side, I curled into a fetal position as another wave of preliminary cramping twisted through me. At least I had a few hours before the full heat hit—time enough to put my emergency plan into action.

I reached for my phone, sending quick texts to Stephanie and Robbie. Then I called the student health center, steeling myself for the conversation I'd been dreading.

"Student Health Services, this is Marcy," a cheerful voice answered.

"Hi," I said, keeping my voice low despite being alone in my room. "This is Vespera Levine. I need to arrange a medical absence. I'm..." I swallowed, hating the vulnerability of this admission. "I'm going into heat."

"I see." Her tone shifted to practiced professionalism. "Let me pull up your records." Keys clicked in the background. "You're registered as using CypreSup suppressants, is that correct?"

"Yes, but they've failed. Stress-induced early cycle."

More typing. "That happens, especially during finals season. How many days do you anticipate needing?"

"Three, maybe four." I grimaced as another cramp twisted through me. "It's starting today."

"I'll note that in the system and send the standard medical absence notifications to your professors. You'll need to come in when it's over for a follow-up and to discuss adjusting your suppressant protocol."

"Thank you," I said, relief washing through me at the lack of judgment in her voice.

"Of course. And Ms. Levine? Do you have adequate support and supplies for the duration?"

The question was standard protocol—part of the university's designation safety policies—but it still made my face burn with embarrassment. "Yes, I'm prepared."