Page 97 of The Drama King

Couldn't think past the burning, couldn't see past the need.

The nest felt like the only solid thing in a world gone liquid. I clutched at the soft fabrics, trying to ground myself. His cashmere sweater still smelled like him, and breathing it in made something deep in my chest purr with satisfaction.

"She's beautiful like this," Oakley said from somewhere to my left, his cedar scent wrapping around me. "So perfect."

His hands joined Dorian's, gentler but no less possessive as they traced my flushed skin. I should have fought this. Should have pushed them away, screamed, done something to stop what was happening.

Instead, I arched into their touch with a broken sound.

Traitor body wanted this more than pride wanted freedom.

"The body knows what the mind denies," Corvus observed from the foot of the bed, his analytical tone somehow more terrifying than outright hunger. "Biology is the ultimate truth."

He was methodically removing his tie and jacket while his dark eyes cataloged every reaction, every shudder. There was nowhere to run from the three Alphas who had spent months systematically breaking me down for this exact moment.

When Dorian's fingers found my breast, brushing against skin so sensitive it felt like it might combust, I cried out with desperate need. The sound seemed to break something loose in all of them, because suddenly there was efficient movement: clothes being stripped away while I lay naked and trembling in the nest.

"So perfect," Dorian growled, eyes traveling over my exposed body with predatory hunger. "Ours. Always meant to be ours."

Shame warred with arousal as I felt slick coating my thighs, the humiliating evidence of my body's preparation. The scent of my own need filled the room, thick and unmistakable, mingling with their rut pheromones in a cocktail that made rational thought impossible.

Couldn't hide how much I wanted this, how much my biology was screaming for them.

"Please," I whispered again, the word falling from my lips like a prayer. "I can't—it hurts—"

"We know," Oakley murmured, his hand gentle on my cheek. "We're going to help you. Make the pain stop."

His touch was different from Dorian's: softer, more comforting, though no less claiming. When his lips found my throat, pressing against the sensitive scent gland that pulsed with every racing heartbeat, I melted into the contact with a small sound of relief.

Finally, something that didn't hurt.

Dorian growled at the sight, something territorial flashing in his ice-blue eyes. "Mine first," he said, words barely human. "My claim is primary."

Corvus nodded, dark eyes never leaving my face. "Pack hierarchy demands it."

I should have been terrified by their casual discussion of claiming me, by the assumption that I belonged to them. Instead, my heat-drunk body responded with a fresh wave of slick that made Dorian's nostrils flare with satisfaction.

Even now, even knowing what they were, my body wanted them.

"She agrees," he said, moving between my spread legs with predatory intent. "Her body knows who she belongs to."

My last coherent thought was that I should fight, should maintain some shred of dignity. But then his hands were on my hips, pulling me to the edge of the nest, and all rational thought evaporated beneath the desperate need consuming me.

When he pressed against me, hot and hard and ready, I made a sound I'd never made before: half sob, half plea. The heat was unbearable now, a ravenous ache that demanded satisfaction.

Please make it stop burning.

"Say it," Dorian demanded, voice rough with rut. "Say you're ours."

"I can't..." I gasped, trying to cling to the last shreds of defiance even as my body arched toward him, seeking relief.

"You can," Oakley encouraged, lips at my ear, cedar scent wrapping around me. "Let go, Vespera. Let yourself have what you need."

Corvus's hand found my throat, gentle but unmistakable assertion of dominance as he tilted my face toward him. "The longer you resist, the more it will hurt. Surrender is inevitable."

Trapped between the three of them, surrounded by their scents and their touch and their absolute certainty, I felt the last of my resistance crumble.

"I'm yours," I whispered, the admission torn from somewhere deep inside me. "Please—I need—"