Page 69 of The Drama King

"Vespera." His voice stopped me just as I reached the threshold. "A word?"

I turned reluctantly, noting that the studio had emptied except for us. Even Professor De Scarzis had disappeared into her office, leaving us completely alone.

"I have to get to my work-study shift," I said, which was true—I was due at the dining hall in twenty minutes.

"This won't take long." He moved closer, using his height to loom over me in a way that made my instincts scream warnings. "I wanted to make sure you understood what we discussed during scene work."

"I understood perfectly," I replied, backing toward the door. "You think I should accept harassment and intimidation because of my designation. I disagree."

"It's not about what I think," he said, following my retreat until my back hit the closed door. "It's about biological reality. You can fight it all you want, but your body knows what it needs. What it craves."

He was close enough now that I could feel the heat radiating from his larger frame, could smell the sandalwood scent that made my traitorous biology respond with unwelcome awareness. My heart hammered against my ribs as he placed one hand against the door beside my head, effectively caging me in place.

"Let me go," I said, proud that my voice didn't shake despite the terror clawing at my throat.

"In a moment." His free hand rose to my face, fingertips barely grazing the line of my jaw. "I can smell it on you, you know. The lingering traces of what you went through. How desperate you were. How empty you felt."

Shame and fury warred in my chest at his casual violation of my privacy, at his knowledge of my most vulnerable moments. "Stop."

"The thing is," he continued as if I hadn't spoken, "you don't have to go through that alone. You don't have to suffer through something that could be so much more satisfying with the right partner."

The implication made my stomach lurch. "You're insane if you think—"

"Am I?" His thumb traced across my lower lip, the touch light but possessive. "Your body disagrees. I can scent your response right now, despite how much your mind wants to resist."

He was right, and we both knew it. My Omega physiology was responding to his proximity, his dominance, his biological suitability as a mate despite my conscious revulsion. The betrayal of my own body made me want to scream with frustration.

"Biology isn't consent," I managed, turning my face away from his touch.

"No," he agreed, his hand dropping to rest against my throat—not squeezing, but a clear reminder of his physical power over me. "But it's a beginning. And eventually, when you stop fighting what you need, you'll realize I'm offering you exactly what you crave."

"Never," I whispered, the word barely audible but carrying absolute conviction.

His smile was sharp, predatory. "We'll see."

He stepped back abruptly, the sudden absence of his overwhelming presence leaving me gasping against the door like a fish thrown back into water. My legs felt weak, my whole body trembling with residual fear and unwelcome arousal.

"Enjoy your work shift," he said conversationally, as if the past few minutes hadn't happened. "Try not to drop any dishes. Your hands seem to be shaking."

With that casual cruelty, he gathered his things and walked out, leaving me alone in the empty studio with the echo of his threats and the humiliating evidence of my body's treacherous response to his dominance.

I slid down the door until I was sitting on the floor, wrapping my arms around my knees as I tried to process what had just happened. The confrontation had crossed every line I'd tried to maintain, shattered every boundary I'd attempted to establish.

But beneath the fear and humiliation, something else was crystallizing—a cold, clear understanding of exactly how dangerous my situation had become. This wasn't campus bullying anymore. This wasn't even designation hierarchy enforcement.

This was hunting. And I was the prey.

My phone buzzed with a text from Stephanie:How was class? Coffee after your shift?

I stared at the message, wanting desperately to reach out, to share what had happened, to ask for help. But what could she really do? What could anyone do against someone with Dorian's connections, his resources, his complete certainty that he could take whatever he wanted?

Can't tonight. Too much studying,I typed back, adding another lie to the growing collection.

You sure? You seem stressed lately.

Just finals pressure. I'm fine.

Another lie. I wasn't fine. I was trapped, isolated, and being systematically stalked by someone who seemed to believe my biology gave him ownership rights over my body and my choices.