Page 22 of The Drama King (The University Players Duet #1)

"Is she?" I asked, genuinely curious. "Her showcase performance suggested a sophisticated understanding of psychological manipulation and performance theory. Her support network is more robust than typical. And she's shown remarkable resistance to our standard breaking tactics."

I paused, letting the implications settle before continuing.

"Perhaps we've been approaching this as if we're dealing with a typical target, when the evidence suggests otherwise."

Dorian leaned forward, his scent intensifying with something that transcended simple dominance. "Then we escalate. Move the confrontation off campus where she doesn't have institutional protections or witnesses."

"Precisely what I was thinking," I agreed, reaching for my tablet and pulling up the theater department calendar. "There's a required outing next Tuesday evening to the Grand Theater downtown. The Duchess of Malfi revival. All performance majors must attend for course credit."

"Perfect," Dorian murmured, his expression darkening with anticipation. "She'll be separated from her dorm room fortress, away from faculty oversight."

"And vulnerable to more... direct approach," I added, watching Oakley's scent spike with alarm.

"Define 'direct,'" he said carefully, setting his barely-touched bourbon aside with deliberate precision.

Dorian rose from his chair with fluid grace, moving toward Oakley with predatory intent. "Nothing crude, Oak. Just more intensive Alpha presence. Let her understand what she's really dealing with when she challenges the natural order."

"It crosses a line," Oakley insisted, though his voice lacked the conviction of true opposition. "Academic pressure is one thing. Physical intimidation is another entirely."

"Is it?" Dorian challenged, now standing directly behind Oakley's chair, his hands resting on the leather back. "We cross lines with each other constantly. Or have you forgotten what happened right here after the showcase?"

Dorian's dominant scent wrapped around Oakley, who despite his ideological objections, couldn't quite suppress the slight softening in his posture that suggested his body remembered exactly what had happened in this room.

"That's different," Oakley said quietly, refusing to turn around and acknowledge Dorian's looming presence. "We're pack. Consenting adults."

"Are we equals though?" Dorian asked, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that made even my analytical composure waver slightly. "Is that really what you think our dynamic is about?"

His hands moved from the chair to Oakley's shoulders, the touch possessive and claiming despite the casual nature of the contact.

I cleared my throat, intervening before the confrontation could evolve into something that would derail our strategic planning entirely. "This territorial display is fascinating, but perhaps we could return to tactical considerations?"

Dorian's hands stilled on Oakley's shoulders, but he didn't step away. "Fine. Corvus, outline your proposal."

"Three-phase approach," I said, consulting my notes despite having already memorized the plan.

"First, isolation. Ensure she's separated from Shaw and Gao after the performance.

Second, confrontation. All three of us, full Alpha presence, no suppressants.

Third, psychological escalation. Make it clear that her showcase success only makes her more valuable as a target. "

"I like it," Dorian said, his hands finally leaving Oakley's shoulders as he returned to his seat. "She thinks talent will protect her. We need to demonstrate that it only makes her more interesting prey."

Oakley remained silent, but his scent betrayed continued unease. The contradiction between his sexual submission to Dorian and his moral objections to our treatment of Vespera was becoming increasingly complex to navigate.

"There's another matter we should discuss," I said, deliberately steering toward more dangerous territory. "Dorian's unusual fixation on this particular target."

The room went very still. Challenging pack leadership, even obliquely, required careful calculation. But Dorian's obsession with Vespera Levine had moved beyond our standard procedures, and strategic analysis demanded acknowledgment of potential risks.

"Explain," Dorian said, his voice carrying the kind of soft menace that preceded violence.

"You've invested more personal attention in her than any previous target," I noted, keeping my tone analytical rather than accusatory.

"Your scent changes when discussing her.

You've begun collecting information beyond strategic necessity.

And your reaction to her showcase performance was. .. distinctive."

"What Corvus is diplomatically avoiding saying," Oakley interjected with unexpected boldness, "is that you looked at her like you wanted to claim her, not break her."

Dorian's knuckles whitened around his whiskey glass, but his expression remained controlled through obvious effort. "Is that your professional assessment?" he asked, looking between us.

"It's what I've observed," I replied carefully. "The question is whether this represents an evolution in objectives. Are we still attempting to drive her from Northwood, or has this become something else entirely?"

The silence stretched between us, filled with implications none of us wanted to examine too closely. Finally, Dorian set his glass down with deliberate precision.

"Perhaps it has," he admitted, surprising me with his directness. "She's different from the others. More worthy of serious attention."

"Worthy how?" Oakley pressed, leaning forward with intensity that suggested his moral objections might be motivated by something more personal than principle.

Dorian's smile was all predator, but there was something almost vulnerable beneath it. "Worthy of being reshaped rather than simply eliminated. Of understanding her true place. Not just at Northwood, but in our world."

The possessive note in his voice confirmed my analysis. This had indeed evolved beyond our usual pattern of harassment and removal. Whether that represented strategic opportunity or dangerous obsession remained to be determined.

"And after she's properly educated?" I asked, probing further.

"That depends on how gracefully she accepts instruction," Dorian replied, his eyes darkening with something that transcended simple dominance. "I'm beginning to think she might be worth keeping."

Oakley's scent sharpened with what smelled distinctly like alarm, though his expression remained carefully neutral. "What, exactly?"

Dorian's laugh held no humor. "Why Oak, I believe you're jealous."

"Concerned," Oakley corrected, his voice steady despite the obvious tension radiating from his body. "Changing objectives mid-operation creates strategic vulnerabilities."

"A fair point," I acknowledged, stepping into the mediator role that maintained pack stability. "If we're shifting from elimination to acquisition, tactics require significant adjustment."

Dorian rose again, moving to stand before the fireplace, his silhouette outlined in dancing flames that cast shifting shadows across the room.

"The theater outing will be a test. Let's observe how she responds to direct Alpha dominance in an uncontrolled environment.

Then we can determine appropriate next steps. "

A soft knock at the door interrupted our discussion before I could respond. Mrs. Holloway, the discrete housekeeper who maintained both the property and our secrets, appeared in the doorway with professional invisibility.

"Dinner is served in the study, gentlemen, as requested."

"Thank you," Dorian said, his manner shifting seamlessly from pack Alpha to gracious host. "We'll be down momentarily."

As she withdrew, Dorian turned back to us with a smile that didn't reach his eyes but carried promises I found both intriguing and concerning.

"We'll continue this discussion after dinner," he said, his gaze settling on Oakley with unmistakable intent. "I believe someone needs a reminder about pack hierarchy and the benefits of... loyalty."

Later that evening, I stood on the balcony outside my private suite, watching November moonlight filter through bare branches while the sounds from Dorian's wing of the house gradually intensified.

The pack house's solid construction muffled most noise, but Alpha vocalizations during dominance assertion carried particular resonance.

My phone vibrated with an encrypted message from one of my campus informants, and I smiled at the attached surveillance photo. Vespera Levine leaving the library at nearly midnight, exhaustion evident in her posture despite the grainy quality of the night-vision image.

Still maintaining regular schedule. No signs of heat approach. Continuing observation.

My network of paid informants across campus provided data that even Dorian didn't know I collected. I'd been monitoring Vespera's biological patterns since September, waiting for the inevitable stress-induced heat cycle that sustained Alpha harassment typically triggered in Omegas.

So far, she'd proven remarkably resistant, maintaining normal cycles despite our campaign. But the theater confrontation might provide sufficient additional stress to push her biology past its adaptive limits.

And when that happened, all of Dorian's careful psychological manipulation would become irrelevant in the face of biological imperative.

From the main house, the sounds had shifted.

Less struggle, more rhythm. Dorian reasserting pack hierarchy through the most fundamental method available, while Oakley's initial resistance dissolved into the submission that defined their relationship regardless of his moral qualms about our activities.

The contradiction was fascinating from an analytical perspective. Oakley could question our treatment of male Omegas while simultaneously submitting to Alpha dominance himself, apparently without recognizing the cognitive dissonance involved.

I typed a brief acknowledgment to my informant, then added specific instructions: Increase surveillance frequency. Report any changes in routine, scent patterns, or companion behavior immediately.

The trap was nearly set, all pieces moving into their designated positions. And as always, I would remain several moves ahead, analyzing, calculating, ensuring that whatever the outcome, it served both pack objectives and my personal interests.

As I returned inside, closing the balcony doors against the November chill, I found myself genuinely curious about Vespera's response to our escalation. Most scholarship Omegas broke quickly under systematic pressure, fleeing campus before mid-semester.

But Vespera Levine had already proven exceptional. In talent, in resilience, in her effect on pack dynamics. If she continued exceeding expectations, she might earn a place in our world that none of us had anticipated.

A pity she wouldn't have any meaningful choice in the matter.