Page 33 of The Drama King (The University Players Duet #1)

twenty-four

Vespera

I recognized the symptoms as soon as I woke up.

The slight fever. The hypersensitivity of my skin against cotton sheets. The restless energy humming through my veins. The telltale ache deep in my core.

Pre-heat.

"Fuck," I whispered to the empty room, grabbing my phone to check the date.

December 3rd. Two weeks early.

My heat wasn't due until mid-December, safely after finals and just in time for winter break. I'd planned meticulously around my cycle, as I always did—scheduling my suppressant regimen, arranging for absences from classes, ensuring I had a safe place to ride it out. All for nothing, apparently.

The theater assault and its aftermath had thrown my body into chaos. Stress could do that to Omegas. Trigger early heats, intensify symptoms, disrupt carefully maintained biological rhythms. And the past few weeks had been nothing but concentrated stress.

Rolling onto my side, I curled into a fetal position as another wave of preliminary cramping twisted through me. At least I had a few hours before the full heat hit—time enough to put my emergency plan into action.

I reached for my phone, sending quick texts to Stephanie and Robbie. Then I called the student health center, steeling myself for the conversation I'd been dreading.

"Student Health Services, this is Marcy," a cheerful voice answered.

"Hi," I said, keeping my voice low despite being alone in my room. "This is Vespera Levine. I need to arrange a medical absence. I'm..." I swallowed, hating the vulnerability of this admission. "I'm going into heat."

"I see." Her tone shifted to practiced professionalism. "Let me pull up your records." Keys clicked in the background. "You're registered as using CypreSup suppressants, is that correct?"

"Yes, but they've failed. Stress-induced early cycle."

More typing. "That happens, especially during finals season. How many days do you anticipate needing?"

"Three, maybe four." I grimaced as another cramp twisted through me. "It's starting today."

"I'll note that in the system and send the standard medical absence notifications to your professors. You'll need to come in when it's over for a follow-up and to discuss adjusting your suppressant protocol."

"Thank you," I said, relief washing through me at the lack of judgment in her voice.

"Of course. And Ms. Levine? Do you have adequate support and supplies for the duration?"

The question was standard protocol—part of the university's designation safety policies—but it still made my face burn with embarrassment. "Yes, I'm prepared."

"Good. Take care of yourself, and call if your symptoms become concerning."

After hanging up, I dragged myself out of bed, wincing at the sensitivity of my skin against the cool air. My heat-management routine was down to a science by now—five years of managing my cycles had taught me exactly what I needed.

First, hydration. I chugged a bottle of electrolyte water, knowing I'd need to stay ahead of the inevitable dehydration.

Next, I swallowed my emergency heat management pills—not suppressants, which were useless once pre-heat began, but medications to reduce fever, cramps, and some of the more debilitating symptoms.

Moving methodically despite my increasing discomfort, I set up my room for what was coming.

Waterproof mattress cover. Extra sheets.

Towels within easy reach. My collection of Omega comfort aids—including several expensive toys specifically designed for heats—arranged discreetly on the nightstand.

Protein bars, more electrolyte drinks, and easy snacks stacked beside the bed.

A knock at my door made me jump.

"Ves? It's me." Stephanie's voice was muffled through the wood.

I cracked the door, keeping the security chain engaged. It was a precaution I never used to take before Northwood, before the Alphas, before everything changed.

Stephanie's concerned face appeared in the gap, her blue-streaked hair pulled back in a messy bun. She was carrying an overnight bag and looked apologetic.

"Hey. Got your text. How bad?"

"Pre-heat now. Full heat probably by this afternoon." I tried to keep my voice steady, but another cramp made me wince mid-sentence.

Her expression softened with understanding.

"I brought emergency supplies." She held up a cloth shopping bag from some upscale grocery store.

"Chocolate, those spicy chips you're always eating, more Gatorade, and the good pain meds from the campus pharmacy—my parents' insurance covers the premium stuff. "

"You're a lifesaver," I said, meaning it. "But you should go. My scent will be changing soon."

"Beta, remember?" She tapped her nose. "I can smell the change, but it doesn't affect me like it would Alphas or other Omegas. Let me in for five minutes to help you set up, then I'll head to my parents' house to give you space and privacy."

I hesitated, then unlatched the chain. Stephanie slipped inside quickly, her eyes widening as she took in my already-feverish appearance.

"Jesus, Ves. You look like you're already halfway there." She set the bag on my desk and moved toward the window, opening it a crack despite the December chill. "Ventilation. Your room already smells like an Omega bakery."

I laughed weakly, the sound turning into a groan as another cramp hit. "Early and intense. Lucky me."

"It's the stress," she said, efficiently unpacking her supplies. "After what those assholes did at the theater, your body's in survival mode."

She arranged the snacks and premium medications within easy reach of my bed.

"I hate leaving you alone for this, but you need complete privacy and space.

I'll be at my parents' place—twenty minutes away if you need anything emergency-wise, but far enough that my presence won't interfere with your heat. "

I felt a mixture of relief and terror at the thought of being completely alone. "What if something happens?"

"Then you call me immediately. Mom and Dad are both home this weekend, and they know about... well, they know you might need help if things get bad. They're prepared to call campus security or drive over themselves if necessary."

The fact that her wealthy parents were aware of my situation and willing to intervene felt like a safety net, even if it was embarrassing to need it.

Tears pricked my eyes, the emotion intensified by my hormonal state. The reality of facing this completely alone was starting to sink in.

My phone buzzed with a text from Robbie. Stephanie glanced at the screen.

"He's downstairs with more supplies," I said, showing her the message.

She nodded, grabbing her overnight bag. "Good. I'll send him up, get out of your hair, and head to my parents'. I'll be back Sunday evening when this is over. Call me if you need anything—anything at all, okay?"

After she left, I sank onto the edge of my bed, another wave of pre-heat symptoms washing through me.

The cramps intensified, and my skin felt increasingly fevered.

My scent was changing too—I could smell it myself now, the sweet jasmine notes deepening into something richer, headier, designed by evolution to attract potential mates.

A soft knock announced Robbie's arrival.

Unlike Stephanie, Robbie wouldn't be coming inside. As a fellow Omega, he was too susceptible to pheromonal influence, even through suppressants.

I cracked the door, keeping the chain on.

"Hey, warrior queen." His gentle smile was visible through the gap. "Got your emergency medical package."

He held up a substantial pharmacy bag and what looked like a small cooler. "I made some calls, pulled some strings with the campus pharmacy and a few off-campus medical contacts. The real stuff—not the over-the-counter heat management pills they usually give broke college students."

"Robbie, you didn't have to—"

"Yes, I did." His tone was firm. "Heat reducers that actually work, prescription-grade anti-inflammatories, muscle relaxers for the cramping, and some experimental hormone modulators I managed to get through a research program connection. Plus industrial-grade scent neutralizers."

My eyes widened. "Those must have cost a fortune."

"Worth every penny," he said simply. "And I brought information about longer-term solutions." He tapped a sealed medical envelope. "Continuous hormone therapy options that might prevent cycles entirely. Worth considering after everything that's been happening."

"Thank you," I managed, overwhelmed by his generosity and the strings he must have pulled. "I don't know how to repay you."

"You don't." He stepped back as another wave of my increasingly potent scent reached him. "Just stay safe."

I took the bag, our fingers briefly touching in the exchange. Even that slight contact sent uncomfortable awareness through my sensitized system—not attraction, but a biological recognition that was both embarrassing and unavoidable.

Robbie noticed, taking a step back. "Sorry."

"Not your fault," I murmured. "Stupid biology."

"Speaking of which..." He glanced nervously down the hallway. "Do you have everything you need for, you know, the intensity?"

My face burned, but I appreciated his delicacy. "Yeah. Got my, uh, heat aids."

He nodded, understanding exactly what I meant. Omegas in heat needed more than food and water to get through it comfortably. The artificial knot toys were expensive but essential for those of us navigating heats alone.

"Good. Because..." He lowered his voice further. "There's talk. Among the Alphas. About heats and who's available to 'help.'"

A chill ran through me despite my rising fever. "What kind of talk?"

"The usual entitled Alpha bullshit. But they're monitoring the medical absence lists somehow. Looking for Omegas who might be in heat without support." His expression grew serious. "They're hunting, Ves."

The word choice wasn't accidental. We both knew what some Alphas were capable of during Omega heats—the lines they'd cross, the boundaries they'd ignore, all justified under biological imperative.