Page 93 of The Drama King

During a brief moment offstage, I caught Wells watching me with something that might have been concern.

"Remarkable work out there," he said quietly. "Very raw, very honest. Though if you need to step back—"

"I'm fine," I lied, knowing that admitting weakness now would destroy everything.

"Of course you are." But his eyes lingered on my flushed face, the way my hands trembled slightly. "The best performances come from truth, not from pushing past your limits."

If only he knew how true I was being.

As the final scenes approached, my body began the cascade that would destroy me. Heat spiked through my system in waves, my scent flooding the air despite every chemical barrier I'd tried to maintain. The costume felt suffocating, every breath was an effort, and the stage lights seemed to burn against my overheated skin.

During the final wedding scene, it all went wrong.

The heat hit me like a physical blow that left me gasping. My vision blurred, my knees went weak, and suddenly every Alpha scent in the theater felt like an assault on my senses.

But it was worse than that. Because mixed in with the general Alpha presence, I could smell something specific, something that called to every cell in my body with terrifying recognition.

Dorian's scent, rich and complex and absolutely perfect, drawing me like a drug I'd been trying to resist.

Fated mate compatibility. The realization hit me with devastating force, and I nearly collapsed right there on stage. This was why nothing had worked, why no amount of suppressants or blockers had been enough. My body recognized him as its perfect match, and now that recognition was destroying me.

I stumbled through the final lines, barely managing to stay upright as my biology prepared for claiming. The applause when the curtain fell sounded distant, muffled, like I was hearing it through water.

Backstage erupted in chaos: congratulations, flowers, champagne being passed around as the cast celebrated their success. But I could barely process any of it through the haze of need consuming me.

I tried to slip away unnoticed, to make it to my dressing room where I could at least fall apart in private. My legs felt unsteady, each step requiring concentration I could barely muster.

"Incredible performance!" Sarah caught my arm as I stumbled past. "You were so intense out there, so—" She stopped mid-sentence, her nose wrinkling slightly. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Just tired," I managed, pulling away before she could process what she was scenting.

But I'd only made it a few more steps when a hand caught my wrist.

"Leaving so soon?" Dorian's voice, low and amused.

I spun around to find him watching me with an expression that made my stomach drop. Not concern, not professional interest, but the focused attention of a hunter who'd finally cornered his prey.

"Let go of me." My voice came out weaker than intended.

"I don't think so." His grip tightened, and I caught Corvus appearing at his shoulder, then Oakley flanking my other side. "You look like you need assistance."

"I'm fine." The lie was pathetic even to my own ears.

"Are you?" Corvus's analytical gaze swept over me, taking in my flushed skin, my trembling hands, the way I was unconsciously pressing back against the wall. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like someone's having an emergency."

People were starting to notice—cast members glancing over, a few looking concerned at my obvious distress. But the pack positioned themselves to block their view, creating a small circle of privacy around my breakdown.

"She needs some air," Oakley said to anyone who looked too curious, his voice carrying false concern. "Opening night nerves, you know how it is."

"People are watching," I said desperately, glancing around at the celebrating cast members.

"Then we should get you somewhere private," Corvus said with that cold smile that never reached his eyes. "Somewhere you can... recover."

They were coordinating. Moving with the kind of practiced precision that meant they'd planned this, anticipated this moment, prepared for exactly this scenario.

"Come on," Dorian said, his grip on my wrist shifting to something that looked supportive but felt like a trap. "Let's get you taken care of."

I tried to pull away, but my body was betraying me completely now. Every movement sent waves of desperate need through my system, and being this close to three Alphas—especially Dorian—was making everything worse.