Page 94 of The Drama King

"My dorm," I tried weakly. "I should go back to my dorm."

"Your roommate moved out weeks ago," Oakley reminded me with false gentleness. "You'd be all alone. That's dangerous for an Omega in... your condition."

"Besides," Dorian added, steering me toward the theater building's back exit while his packmates flanked us, "we have somewhere much better in mind. Somewhere private, comfortable. Somewhere designed specifically for situations like this."

The night air hit my overheated skin like a shock, but it did nothing to clear my head. If anything, being away from the crowd made everything feel more real, more dangerous. There was no one around to witness whatever they had planned, no one to question why three Alphas were leading a clearly distressed Omega into the darkness.

"Please," I whispered, but I wasn't even sure what I was asking for anymore.

"Shh," Dorian murmured, his voice carrying a satisfaction that made my blood run cold. "We're going to take very good care of you, sweetheart. Better than you ever imagined."

As they guided me through the darkness, my thoughts scattered like leaves in wind. Everything felt distant, muffled, like I was drowning in my own biology. The night air should have been cold, but all I felt was burning heat, the overwhelming need that made coherent thought impossible.

"Where..." I tried to ask, but the word came out slurred, pathetic.

"Don't worry about it," Dorian's voice seemed to come from very far away, even though he was right beside me. "Let us handle everything."

My legs wouldn't work properly. Each step was an effort, and without their support I would have collapsed onto the pavement. Part of me wanted to collapse, wanted to curl up right here and wait for the fire under my skin to consume me completely.

But they kept me moving, kept me upright, their voices a low murmur of words I couldn't quite grasp. Something about plans, about finally, about how perfect this was going to be.

The world blurred at the edges, reality narrowing down to the scent of three Alphas surrounding me and the desperate, animal need that was all I had left.

thirty-four

Dorian

Thescenthitmelike a physical blow the moment we got her in the car.

Vespera's heat—wild jasmine transformed into something so rich and desperate it made my teeth ache—flooded the enclosed space with violent immediacy. My vision narrowed, pupils dilating as primal instincts overrode everything else. One moment I was Dorian Ashworth, calculating and controlled; the next I was nothing but Alpha, driven by imperatives older than civilization.

Mine.

She swayed against me in the backseat, those green eyes glazed with fever and unwilling need, her body already surrendering to what her mind still fought. The flush across her skin, the way her breathing had gone shallow and rapid, the sweet slick I could smell even through her costume: all of itconfirmed what I'd suspected since the moment she'd stepped onto that stage tonight.

Her heat had arrived in full force. And this time, there would be no escape.

Perfect.

"Where..." she whispered, the word barely coherent as another wave crashed through her.

"Home," I said, my voice rougher than intended as I fought to maintain some semblance of control. "Somewhere you can be properly taken care of."

Corvus was driving with his usual precise efficiency, but I could smell his arousal mixing with mine in the confined space. In the passenger seat, Oakley kept glancing back at us with eyes that had gone completely Alpha-dark.

The pack was falling into rut in response to her heat, exactly as biology intended. After months of anticipation, we were finally going to claim what had always been ours.

She tried to say something else, but the words dissolved into a soft whimper that went straight to my cock. Her scent was getting stronger by the minute, so thick with need that I could practically taste it on my tongue.

By the time we reached the mansion, I was barely holding onto sanity.

Getting her out of the car required careful coordination. Her legs gave out the moment her feet touched the ground, her body too consumed by heat to support her own weight.

"I've got you," I murmured, scooping her up before she could collapse onto the stone steps. She felt perfect in my arms: all soft curves and burning skin, her scent wrapping around me like a drug.

She made a small sound of protest, trying weakly to push against my chest. "I can walk."

"No, you can't," I said simply, carrying her toward the mansion's entrance. And she couldn't—her legs were trembling, her breathing ragged, every step I took sending visible waves of sensation through her hypersensitive system.