Page 53 of The Drama King (The University Players Duet #1)

Vespera stirred then, a small sound of distress escaping her as the heat began to build again. Even in sleep, her body was responding to our presence, to the bond that had formed and would only strengthen with each claiming.

"Mine," I growled, the word carrying new depths of meaning. Not just ownership now, but recognition. Acceptance of a truth that went beyond anything I'd imagined possible.

Her eyes fluttered open, fever-bright with returning heat but clearer than they had been during last night's frenzy. For a moment, there was confusion in those green depths, then dawning recognition of where she was, what had happened.

"Dorian?" she whispered, her voice rough from sleep and the sounds she'd made throughout the night.

The sound of my name on her lips sent a wave of possessive satisfaction through me, but it was tempered now with something gentler, something I barely recognized in myself.

"I'm here," I said, my hand finding the nape of her neck in what had become a familiar gesture of ownership. "We're all here."

Her eyes took in the opulent surroundings: the master suite that spoke of generations of wealth, the crystal and mahogany, the silk and cashmere that surrounded her.

Fear flickered across her face as full awareness returned, as she registered her position in the luxurious nest surrounded by the three Alphas who had claimed her.

I could smell it—the sharp edge of terror beneath the sweetening scent of returning heat.

The fear made my chest ache in ways I'd never experienced before. My fated mate, terrified of me. Of us. The wrongness of it struck me with physical force.

"You don't need to be afraid," I told her, my voice gentler than it had ever been with her. "Not anymore."

Confusion replaced the fear, her brow furrowing as she tried to understand the change in my demeanor. "What's happening?" she asked, her body instinctively curling toward me despite her obvious wariness. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

I exchanged glances with Oakley and Corvus, a silent communication passing between us. How to explain what we'd discovered? How to make her understand that everything had shifted in the space of a single breath?

"There's something you need to know," I began, my thumb tracing small circles against the sensitive skin of her throat. "Something we discovered."

She tensed, clearly expecting more manipulation, more cruelty disguised as revelation. The distrust in her eyes was a knife to my gut, made all the more painful by the knowledge that we'd earned it.

"When a claiming takes place," I explained, choosing my words carefully, "certain scent signatures become apparent. Markers that were... hidden before."

"What are you talking about?" Her voice was stronger now, some of that familiar defiance returning as the heat momentarily receded.

"Fated mates," Oakley said gently when I hesitated. "A perfect genetic match between Alpha and Omega. The rarest bond possible."

Her eyes widened, darting between the three of us with growing comprehension. "That's... that's not real," she said, but I could hear the uncertainty in her voice. "It's stories. Myths."

"It's real," I assured her, my hand finding hers and squeezing gently. "And apparently, exceedingly rare as it is... you're mine."

The word 'mine' carried new weight now, new meaning. Not just possession but recognition. Acceptance of a truth that went beyond anything I'd imagined possible.

"That can't be true," she whispered, but her body was already responding to the truth her mind resisted. I could smell it: the subtle change in her scent as it aligned more perfectly with mine, the recognition happening beneath conscious thought.

"It is true," Corvus confirmed, his analytical precision lending weight to the claim. "All of us can scent it now that the claiming has taken place. You're Dorian's fated mate, with secondary compatibility to Oakley and me as pack members."

She stared at us, those green eyes wide with confusion and the first hints of something that might have been hope. "But you... you spent months breaking me," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "Tormenting me. Making my life hell."

The accusation hit with devastating accuracy, making me flinch despite my usual control. "We didn't know," I said, the words inadequate even as I spoke them. "We couldn't have known until the claiming took place, until the markers were revealed."

"Would it have mattered?" she asked, and the genuine question in her voice made my chest ache. "If you'd known from the beginning, would you have treated me differently?"

The honest answer was yes: a fated mate would never be treated with the systematic cruelty we'd inflicted on her. They were too precious, too rare, too sacrosanct in Alpha culture. But admitting that felt like confirming the wrongness of what we'd done, the unnecessary pain we'd caused.

"It would have been completely different," I admitted finally, knowing she deserved at least that much truth. "A fated mate is... beyond price. Beyond games or manipulation or dominance displays. They're..."

"Cherished," Oakley supplied when I struggled to find the right word. "Protected. Honored."

Skepticism flashed across her face, and I couldn't blame her. After months of psychological warfare, our sudden change of heart would naturally seem suspicious.

"Convenient timing," she observed, her voice gaining strength despite her vulnerable position in my luxurious bed. "Now that you've claimed me, broken me, gotten what you wanted—suddenly I'm precious and rare?"

"The fated bond was always there," Corvus explained, his analytical mind finding patterns even in chaos. "It explains our fixation on you specifically, the intensity of our response to your defiance. On some level, our biology recognized what our conscious minds couldn't know until the claiming."

She didn't look convinced, and again, I couldn't blame her. We'd spent months systematically destroying her trust, her sense of safety, her belief in her own perceptions. Rebuilding that would take time, would require consistency and patience I'd never needed to exercise before.

"I don't expect you to believe us right away," I said quietly. "Or to forgive what happened before we knew. But the truth is undeniable: you're my fated mate. Our pack's perfect Omega match."

As if to emphasize my point, another wave of heat visibly washed over her, making her gasp and curl in on herself. The scent of her arousal filled the spacious room, triggering my own response with pavlovian immediacy.

But this time, as I gathered her into my arms and prepared to help her through the next peak of her heat, something was different. The possessiveness remained, the Alpha need to claim and control, but it was tempered now with something gentler. Something that might, with time, become tenderness.

"I've got you," I murmured against her throat, breathing in the intoxicating scent of our perfect match. "We've got you."

When I pushed inside her, it was with desperate reverence rather than dominance.

Every thrust was worship, every touch a promise I didn't know how to make with words.

The connection between us sparked and flared with each movement, the fated bond recognizing itself and responding with overwhelming intensity.

She cried out, not in pain but in recognition—her body finally understanding what it had been craving all along. Not just any Alpha, but this Alpha. Her match. Her mate.

My knot swelled quickly, locking us with fierce possession, but even as biology claimed us both, I found myself whispering apologies against her skin. Promises. Vows I'd never thought I'd make.

"Never again," I breathed, my voice rough with emotion I barely recognized. "Never hurt you again. Mine to protect now. Mine to cherish."

The mansion around us—our territory, our domain—bore witness to the moment everything shifted. When a tormentor became a protector. When ownership became devotion.

When a game became love, whether I was ready for it or not.