Page 6 of The Drama King (The University Players Duet #1)

Sandalwood, approaching from behind. The sharp surge of Alpha pheromones was deliberate, targeted, designed to trigger biological responses I couldn't control. My body reacted instantly. Pulse quickening, skin warming, and to my horror, the telltale dampness of arousal.

"Your posture's too rigid," Dorian's voice came low near my ear, his breath hot against my neck. His hands settled on my shoulders without permission, fingers dangerously close to my scent glands. "Let me help you."

Before I could object, his hands slid down to my waist, gripping me with possessive familiarity that sent unwanted heat through my body. My eyes snapped open, looking for Cruz, for help, for anyone—but the professor was across the room, completely oblivious.

"Eyes closed," Dorian reminded me, loud enough for Cruz to hear. "This exercise is about physical awareness, not sight."

It's also about consent, you entitled jackass , I wanted to say, but the words stuck in my throat as his thumbs found the exact point in my lower back that made my knees want to buckle.

I squeezed my eyes shut again, every sense heightened by proximity and fear. Dorian's thumbs pressed into the small of my back, forcing my spine to arch. From across the room, I heard Cruz offering general guidance to the class, completely unaware or choosing to ignore what was happening.

"Better," Dorian murmured, his chest nearly touching my back. "Now breathe deeply."

I inhaled sharply. A mistake. His scent flooded my senses, triggering a cascade of Omega responses I couldn't suppress.

My own scent sweetened with involuntary arousal, my skin flushed warm, and I knew with mortifying certainty that he could smell every biological change.

It was like having my body betray me in high definition.

"Good girl," he whispered, for my ears alone. His fingers tightened at my waist before he stepped away, leaving me trembling.

"Excellent work," Cruz called, bringing everyone's attention back to center. "Now let's explore partner breathing. Find someone nearby and face each other."

Before I could move toward the Beta girl I'd been sitting near, Dorian's hand closed around my wrist. His fingers easily circled the bone, a casual reminder of the physical power imbalance between us.

"Partner with me," he said. Not a request, but a command. "I'll demonstrate proper technique."

Cruz nodded approvingly. "Wonderful. Everyone please observe Mr. Ashworth's demonstration with—" He paused, looking at me expectantly.

"Vespera," I supplied, my voice smaller than intended. Damn it.

"With Ms. Levine. Watch their breath connection and synchronization."

Trapped by the academic context, I had no choice but to stand facing Dorian in the center of the circle. The rest of the class gathered around to watch, making escape impossible. I was caught in a performance where I hadn't consented to the role.

He positioned us close enough that our bodies nearly touched, his hands rising to rest lightly on my ribcage just below my breasts.

The placement was technically correct for the exercise, but his thumbs pressed deliberately against the underside of my chest with each breath, his fingertips finding the exact spots that would make my body respond.

"Breathing begins here," he explained to the watching students, his tone professionally instructional while his eyes remained locked on mine with predatory intensity. "Feel your partner's rhythm. Match it, then guide them to deeper, slower breaths."

His hands pressed gently, directing my breathing pattern.

I tried desperately to treat this as the academic exercise it was supposed to be, to think of his hands as just random body parts attached to a fellow student.

But when his thumbs brushed just below my breasts, contact so brief it could be dismissed as accidental, I knew exactly what was happening.

I was being marked. Claimed. Humiliated. All under the guise of educational instruction.

Around us, other students paired off. I noticed Corvus working with a nervous freshman Omega, while Oakley partnered with a Beta boy who looked increasingly uncomfortable. Their strategy continued. Dividing the vulnerable students, surrounding them with Alpha dominance.

"Your heart's racing," Dorian observed quietly, his fingers detecting my pulse through my ribcage. "Nervous about your first college-level exercise?"

I met his gaze directly, refusing to show fear despite the biological responses I couldn't control. "I'm focusing on the technique, Mr. Ashworth."

"Of course. Such a dedicated student." His hand went upward, thumb deliberately grazing my scent gland at the base of my throat. "But your body tells a different story, doesn't it? I can smell exactly what this does to you."

Before I could respond, Cruz called for attention again. "Excellent demonstration. Now everyone try the exercise with your own partners."

Dorian's hands lingered a moment too long before he stepped back, but not before leaning in to whisper: "You're going to be so much fun to break."

The rest of class passed in a blur of barely controlled panic.

Whenever I managed to focus on an exercise, one of them would appear.

Dorian adjusting my arm position with unnecessary intimacy, Corvus demonstrating breath control with his body pressed too close behind me, Oakley making crude comments disguised as technical feedback.

By the time Cruz dismissed us, my uniform shirt clung to my back with nervous sweat, and I could feel the uncomfortable evidence of my body's traitorous responses.

Worse, I knew all three Alphas had been tracking my biological reactions with evident satisfaction.

There's nothing quite like having your involuntary physical responses used as entertainment for entitled assholes.

I grabbed my bag and headed for the door as quickly as dignity allowed, desperate for fresh air and distance.

I wrapped my arms around myself, still feeling phantom touches from Dorian's hands. Fighting the ridiculous urge to scrub my skin where he'd touched me, as if his fingerprints had left physical marks. For all I knew, maybe they had—Alpha pheromones could linger for hours.

This was just the beginning. They weren't going to stop. And I was completely alone against Northwood's elite Alpha pack, with faculty who either couldn't see the harassment or chose to ignore it. Money talked and I had no voice.

And underneath my fear was something even more disturbing.

The way my body had responded to Dorian's touch, the biological programming that made me crave his dominance despite my mind's revulsion.

It was like housing a traitor inside my own skin—one that would sell me out for a whiff of Alpha pheromones.

As I walked back to my dorm room, I couldn't shake his whispered promise: You're going to be so much fun to break.

But I hadn't come this far, fought this hard for my scholarship, just to be broken by rich boys with too much power and too little supervision. If they wanted to hunt me, fine. But they'd soon learn I wasn't easy prey.

The hunt had officially begun, and while I had nowhere to run, I sure as hell could fight back.