Chapter 39 Dorian
thirty-nine
Dorian
The scotch burns going down, but not enough to numb what I need numbed.
Three days. Three fucking days since I came back from my parents' house, and I've spent most of it in this room with the curtains drawn and a bottle that cost more than most people's monthly rent. The expensive kind that's supposed to be savored. I'm treating it like cheap beer.
"This is pathetic."
Corvus's voice cuts through the dim room like a scalpel. I don't bother looking up from where I'm sprawled in the leather chair by the window, watching shadows shift across the ceiling.
"Get out."
"No." The door closes with a soft click. His mint scent fills the space—sharp, clinical, completely at odds with the stale air and whiskey fumes. "We're having this conversation whether you want to or not."
"There's nothing to discuss."
"Bullshit." He moves into my line of sight, immaculate as always in pressed slacks and a button-down that probably costs what Vespera makes in a month at her campus job.
The thought makes my jaw clench. "You've been hiding in here like a child having a tantrum while your fated mate is downstairs trying to pretend you haven't completely gutted her. "
"Don't." The word comes out sharp. "Don't call her that."
"Why? Because it's true?" Corvus crosses his arms, studying me with those calculating eyes that see too fucking much. "Because admitting it means admitting your parents' suspicions are founded? That their precious legacy matters less than biological reality?"
I take another drink. "You don't understand."
"Then explain it to me." He settles into the chair across from mine, crossing one leg over the other with precise grace.
"Explain how the most dominant Alpha I've ever met—someone who spent months orchestrating an elaborate campaign to claim an Omega—is now hiding in his room drinking expensive scotch and pretending she doesn't exist."
"They're asking questions." The admission comes out quiet. "My parents. They saw us together on campus. Someone sent them photos. They can smell her scent on me even when I try to hide it."
"So they're suspicious." Corvus leans forward. "Not informed. Not certain. Just suspicious. And instead of managing the situation like the strategic Alpha you are, you're having a breakdown."
"They compared me to Julian." The name feels like broken glass in my throat. "Asked if I'm planning to throw away everything they've built for me. If I'm going to be another disappointment."
"And that terrified you." It's not a question. "Because you've spent your entire life trying to prove you're not your brother. That you won't make his 'mistakes.' That you're the perfect heir they need."
"I don't want to lose everything."
"Then don't." Corvus sits back. "But right now, you're losing the one thing that actually matters. Vespera is downstairs thinking you regret claiming her. That she's an inconvenient mistake you're trying to distance yourself from. And every hour you hide in here reinforces that belief."
The words hit like physical blows. I set down the glass, running both hands through my hair. "I don't know how to do this. How to choose."
"You're not choosing between your family and her," Corvus says flatly. "You're choosing between who you've always been and who you want to become. Between fear and courage. And right now, you're choosing fear."
"That's not—"
"It is." He cuts me off. "I've known you since we were fourteen, Dorian.
I've watched you manipulate situations, control outcomes, get exactly what you want through sheer force of will.
But for the first time in your life, you want something your parents might not approve of, and instead of fighting for it, you're rolling over. "
The accusation makes rage flare hot. "You don't know what they're capable of—"
"I know exactly what they're capable of," Corvus interrupts.
"I watched them erase your brother from existence.
But I also know what you're capable of. And this?
" He gestures at the room, at me. "This isn't you.
This is a scared child pretending the problem will disappear if he ignores it long enough. "
Before I can respond, the front door opens downstairs.
Vespera's home.
I know it immediately—that sixth sense that's developed since the bonds formed. Corvus knows it too, his posture shifting, attention sharpening.
Then the scent hits.
Jasmine. Sweet and thick and absolutely devastating.
But different. Richer. Deeper. Layered with something that makes every Alpha instinct I have roar to immediate, overwhelming life.
Pre-heat.
"Fuck." The word comes out strangled. My cock goes from zero to painfully hard in seconds. The room feels too small, too hot, the air too thick to breathe.
Corvus is on his feet, nostrils flaring. "That's—"
"I know what it is." I'm moving before conscious thought, out of the chair and across the room. My hands are shaking. My vision is edged with red. The rut that's been simmering for days surges forward with vicious intensity.
She's going into heat.
And I've been avoiding her for three fucking days.
The self-loathing is immediate and crushing. While I've been hiding in here feeling sorry for myself, her body's been building toward this. The stress I've caused her, the rejection, the emotional turmoil—it's probably what triggered it early.
I yank open the door. Corvus is right behind me, moving with that predatory grace that means his control is equally shredded.
The hallway is saturated with her scent. It coats my throat, fills my lungs, goes straight to my hindbrain and obliterates everything civilized. I can taste her arousal, her fear, her confusion.
Downstairs, Oakley's voice: "Vespera? Are you—oh, fuck."
I take the stairs three at a time.
She's standing in the entryway, dropped her bag by the door, one hand braced against the wall. Even from here she's trembling. Flushed. Her uniform is wrinkled, her hair escaping its ponytail in dark waves that make my fingers itch.
She looks up as I hit the bottom step.
Our eyes meet.
The bond slams into me with physical force. Not the constant background pull I've been living with for days, but a roaring demand that nearly drives me to my knees. Mine. Mate. Need. Claim. Now.
Her pupils are blown wide, gray eyes nearly black. "Dorian—"
"How long?" My voice comes out more growl than words. I'm moving toward her without conscious decision, drawn by invisible strings I can't fight. "How long have you been feeling this?"
"Since this morning." She's breathing hard, fighting it. Always fighting. "Didn't realize what it was until I was walking home and—" She cuts off, swaying slightly.
Oakley is already there, catching her elbow. His cedar scent spikes with arousal so thick I can smell it from across the room. "We need to get her upstairs. Now."
"No." She tries to pull away, tries to stand on her own. "I can manage. I'll call the campus health center, get the suppressants—"
"They won't work." Corvus has reached us, circling around behind her with predatory focus. The three of us are surrounding her now, three Alphas and one Omega in pre-heat. "Not once it's started this strong. You need a nest. You need—"
"I don't need anything from you." The defiance in her voice would be admirable if it wasn't so fucking stupid. "From any of you. Especially not from him."
The words are aimed at me like bullets.
"Vespera—" I start, but she cuts me off.
"Don't." Her voice cracks. "Don't you dare. You can't avoid me for three days, can't even look at me, and then suddenly care because my biology is making me convenient again?"
The accusation hits dead center. She's absolutely right. And the shame of it wars with the overwhelming need to touch her, to soothe her, to drag her upstairs and spend the next three days proving exactly how much I care.
"That's not—" I can't finish the sentence. Because it is fair. Everything she's saying is completely fair.
"I saw Robbie today." She's talking faster now, words tumbling out as the pre-heat builds. "Had dinner with him. He's back. He's my friend again. And he reminded me that I don't have to accept being treated like this."
Robbie. The name cuts through some of the rut haze. The male Omega I destroyed in Book 1, who somehow survived and returned. Who she was with today. Whose scent is probably all over her under the overwhelming jasmine.
The jealousy is instant and irrational.
"You were with him while this was starting?" Corvus's voice has gone deadly quiet. "Did he touch you?"
"What? No. He wouldn't—" She shakes her head, losing the thread of thought as another wave hits. Her legs buckle.
I'm there before she can fall, catching her against my chest. The contact is electric. She's burning up, fever already spiking, and the soft gasp she makes when our bodies connect goes straight to my cock.
"Let go," she whispers, but there's no force behind it. Her hands are fisting in my shirt instead of pushing away.
"No." The word is absolute. "Not again. Never again."
"You don't get to decide—" Another wave cuts her off. She whimpers, the sound so needy it makes all three of us growl in response.
"Upstairs." Oakley's voice is strained. "We're losing control and she needs somewhere safe."
He's right. The entry hall is no place for this. Too exposed. Too vulnerable. My room. We need to get her to my room where I can—where we can—
"I'm not going to your room," she manages. "I'm not doing this. I'll lock myself in my own room and—"
"And suffer alone?" I'm already lifting her, ignoring her weak protests. "While three Alphas in rut prowl the hallways outside your door? That's your plan?"
"Better than—" She cuts off with a gasp as I start up the stairs. The movement shifts her against me, and even through layers of clothing the heat of her is overwhelming.