Page 67 of The Drama King

"Just checking on a fellow student." His smile didn't reach his eyes. "Though I have to say, you look different. Softer, somehow. More accessible."

The way he said the word made my skin crawl. There was something in his tone that suggested he knew exactly what kind of biological processes had left me feeling vulnerable and exposed.

"I'm fine," I said firmly, starting to gather my things. "And I have studying to do."

"I'm sure you do." He leaned back in his chair, completely relaxed. "Finals week is so stressful. Especially when you're behind on coursework due to unexpected absences. I hope your professors are being understanding about makeup work."

The implied threat was subtle but unmistakable. My stomach churned as I realized how precarious my academic standing might be if they decided to apply pressure through official channels.

"My professors are very reasonable," I replied, standing with my tray. "Excuse me."

I walked away before he could respond, but I could feel his gaze tracking my movement across the dining hall. The weight of his attention made my shoulders tense with the effort of not breaking into a run.

The afternoon was supposed to be better. I had Acting Technique with Professor De Scarzis—usually my favorite class, the one place where I felt confident and capable. But as I entered the familiar studio space, I immediately noticed the pack clustered near the back wall, their conversation stopping abruptly when I appeared.

"Ah, Ms. Levine." Professor De Scarzis looked up from her notes with a warm smile. "Good to have you back. I trust you're feeling better?"

"Much better, thank you." I took my usual seat in the middle section, acutely aware of the pack's attention focused on me like a physical weight.

"Excellent. We're working on emotional vulnerability exercises today—accessing genuine feeling states through sense memory and physical awareness." She moved to the center of the studio. "This is advanced work, requiring complete honesty with yourself and your scene partners."

My stomach dropped. Vulnerability exercises were difficult enough under normal circumstances. With the pack watching my every reaction, looking for signs of weakness or openings to exploit, the thought of accessing genuine emotional states felt like psychological suicide.

"We'll begin with individual work, then move to pairs," De Scarzis continued. "I want you to think about a moment of genuine fear or uncertainty. Not theatrical fear—real fear. The kind that lives in your body, that changes how you breathe, how you hold yourself."

I closed my eyes, trying to access the assignment professionally, but the memories that surfaced were too fresh, too raw. Three days ago, alone in my dorm room, burning with fever and need, terrified that someone might discover me in that state of biological vulnerability. The desperate hunger that no artificial substitute could satisfy. The horrible certainty that if the wrong person found me like that...

"Beautiful work, Vespera," De Scarzis's voice broke through my spiraling thoughts. "I can see the genuine emotional state in your physical posture. Hold onto that feeling—we'll use it for partner work."

My eyes snapped open, and I immediately met Dorian's ice-blue gaze across the studio. He was staring at me with an intensity that made my breath catch, his nostrils slightly flared as if he was trying to catch my scent even from across the room.

He knew. Not just that I'd been in heat, but that I was thinking about it right now. That I was still vulnerable, still affected by what I'd experienced.

The predatory satisfaction in his expression made my hands tremble.

"Partner assignments are on the board," De Scarzis announced. "We'll be working on truth and lies—one partner shares something genuine, the other determines authenticity through physical and vocal cues."

I looked toward the assignment board with growing dread, though I already knew what I would find there. My name paired with Dorian's, of course. The "coincidence" that had been happening for months, each pairing designed to maximize my discomfort and his opportunity to get close to me.

"Looks like we're together again," Dorian said, appearing beside my chair before I'd even finished reading the board. "How fortuitous."

"Professor De Scarzis," I called out, desperation making me bold. "Could I possibly switch partners? I'm still not feeling completely well, and—"

"The assignments are final," she replied without looking up from her notes. "Professional actors don't get to choose their scene partners based on personal preference. Part of your training is learning to work with anyone."

I was trapped. Again.

Dorian gestured toward an empty corner of the studio, his movement somehow managing to be both polite and commanding. "Shall we?"

I followed him reluctantly, acutely aware of the pack's attention and the way other students seemed to give us a wide berth. Whether they were afraid of getting caught in whatever dynamic was playing out between us, or simply following the social cues that marked me as somehow contaminated, the isolation was complete.

"So," Dorian said once we were settled in our designated space, his voice low enough that only I could hear. "Truth and lies. How appropriate."

"Let's just get through the exercise," I replied, focusing on my breathing to maintain composure. "You can go first."

"Oh, I think you should start," he said, settling into his chair with that fluid grace that made him so compelling on stage. "I'm very interested in hearing some truths from you, Vespera."

The way he said my name sent an unwelcome shiver through me. There was something different about his presence today, more intense than usual. His sandalwood scent seemed richer, more pervasive, and his pale eyes held a hunger that went beyond the casual cruelty he usually displayed.