Page 71 of The Drama King

"Is it?" He stood, moving to the window beside me with that fluid grace that reminded everyone he was just as much of a predator as I was, despite his preference for psychological rather than physical dominance. "You've been increasingly agitated for weeks. Snapping at pack members, losing focus during classes, spending hours researching campus security protocols and student schedules. Classic pre-rut symptoms, except..."

"Except what?" I asked, though I suspected I knew where this was leading.

"Except you're not entering rut for just any available Omega," he said quietly. "Your biology has fixated on one specific individual. Which suggests something far more significant than simple harassment or even casual claiming behavior."

I set the glass down with more force than necessary, the crystal ringing against the marble bar top. "You're overanalyzing."

"Am I?" Corvus moved closer, and I caught the scent of his curiosity mixed with something that might have been concern. "When was the last time you thought about anyone other than Vespera Levine? When did you last take interest in any of the Omega students who would be honored to warm your bed?"

The truthful answer was that I couldn't remember. For weeks, maybe longer, my sexual fantasies had centered entirely on dark hair and defiant gray eyes, on the challenge of breaking down stubborn resistance and claiming complete submission. Other Omegas had approached me—subtly, respectfully, making their availability known through scent and body language—and I'd dismissed them without a second thought.

None of them were her.

"This is temporary fixation," I said, more to convince myself than him. "Once she's properly broken, once she understands her place, the obsession will fade."

"Will it?" He was close enough now that I could see the skepticism in his expression. "Or will claiming her only intensify whatever biological imperative is driving this behavior?"

Before I could formulate a response, the door to my penthouse opened and Oakley entered, stomping snow off his boots and shaking flakes from his dark hair. His cedar scent carried notes of agitation that immediately put me on alert.

"We need to talk," he said without preamble, his usual easy demeanor replaced by something sharper, more confrontational than I was used to seeing from him. "About what happened during her heat. About what we all experienced."

The words sent ice through my veins, though I tried to hide my reaction. "What do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean." He moved deeper into the room, declining my gesture toward the bar. "For three days,every Alpha on campus was on edge. Irritable, aggressive, unable to focus. Like we could sense something we couldn't access, something being deliberately withheld."

Corvus leaned forward with obvious interest. "You experienced symptomatic response to her blocked heat cycle?"

"We all did," Oakley said grimly. "But it was worst for Dorian. He barely slept, couldn't eat, kept disappearing for hours at a time to lurk around McArthur Hall like some kind of stalker."

"I was concerned about pack interests," I said stiffly, hating the defensive note in my voice.

"Pack interests," Oakley repeated flatly. "Is that what we're calling standing outside her dorm building at three in the morning, trying to catch traces of scent that never came?"

Heat rushed to my face. I hadn't realized my behavior had been so obvious, so pathetic. "I was monitoring the situation."

"You were losing your mind," he said bluntly. "We both were, but you... Dorian, I've never seen an Alpha react that strongly to blocked heat. It was like you were going into sympathetic rut for an Omega you couldn't access."

"That's impossible," I said, but my voice lacked conviction. The three days of Vespera's heat had been torture—a constant, gnawing awareness of something missing, something I needed desperately but couldn't have. I'd attributed it to wounded pride, to the frustration of being denied something I'd marked as mine.

But what if it had been something deeper? What if my biology had been trying to respond to hers, only to be thwarted by chemical barriers?

"Sympathetic rut is extremely rare," Corvus said thoughtfully. "It typically only occurs when there's unusual biological compatibility. Though the research on it is limited."

The words hung in the air, heavy with implication but not quite crossing into territory none of us were ready to explore. Unusual compatibility. Not mate bonding—that was somethingthat happened to other Alphas, something rare and life-altering that couldn't possibly apply to this situation.

"That's not what this is," I said quickly, but even as I spoke, questions were surfacing. Why had my reaction been so intense? Why couldn't I focus on anything else? Why had other Omegas lost all appeal?

"Isn't it something though?" Oakley asked quietly. "Because what I saw—what we both saw—wasn't normal harassment fixation, Dorian. This was different."

I moved back to the window, staring out at the falling snow while my mind tried to make sense of biological responses I didn't understand. The three days of her heat had felt like torture. I'd attributed that to wounded Alpha pride, but what if it was something deeper? Some biological pull I couldn't name?

"She used military-grade suppressants," I said, fury rising at the memory. "That level of preparation suggests she knew exactly what effect she'd have on me."

"Or she was simply being cautious," Corvus countered. "Any targeted Omega would seek privacy during heat."

The explanation fell flat. The industrial-grade blockers, the complete scent elimination—that was overkill for normal privacy concerns.

"Perhaps," Oakley ventured, "she's afraid of something between you two. Omegas can develop aversion to specific Alphas when biological compatibility exists but trust doesn't."