Page 103 of The Sterling Acquisition

Orion blinked, taking in their surroundings with noticeably less wariness than usual. “How long were we out?”

“Most of the day, looks like.”

“Shit.” Orion pushed himself up, wincing. “I feel like I got hit by a truck.”

“You look it too,” Dante said, running his fingers over a vivid hickey he’d left on Orion’s throat. “Sore?”

Orion’s cheeks flushed, but he didn’t pull away from the touch. “A little. Nothing I can’t handle.” He paused, frowning. “This is weird.”

“What?”

“I should want to put distance between us right now. Should be planning my next escape attempt.” Orion’s voice carried genuine confusion. “But I don’t want to move.”

Something territorial and satisfied flared in Dante’s chest. The intensity should have triggered his usual self-control protocols, but instead, it felt like the most natural response in the world. “Good. Don’t.”

“Good?” Orion raised an eyebrow, some of his usual sharpness returning.

“I like you where you are,” Dante said simply, because his filter had been among the casualties of whatever biochemical revolution his body was staging.

Orion studied his face for a moment, searching for something. “I don’t regret it,” he said quietly, like he was testing the words. “Just so you know.”

The simple statement hit harder than it should have. Dante had been braced for awkwardness, maybe hostility—not this calm acceptance. “Good. I was hoping you wouldn’t.”

“Even though it makes everything more complicated?”

“Especially because it makes everything more complicated.” Corporate training valued streamlined processes, reduced variables. Complexity was the enemy of optimization. Yet here he was, embracing chaos and calling it progress. “You seem different. Less...”

“Pissed off?” Orion’s mouth quirked. “My heat’s still there, but it’s not making me want to claw my skin off anymore.”

Dante had to agree. His responses had shifted too—the aggressive territorial instincts that had made him nearly feral yesterday were now a steady, controlled awareness.

“Temporary hormonal stabilization?” he offered.

Orion snorted. “Is that your professional diagnosis, Dr. Ashford?”

“It’s the most diplomatic explanation I can come up with.”

“Because you’re all about diplomacy.” Orion’s tone was mocking, but there was relief underneath. “What’s your diplomatic explanation for the fact that I haven’t tried to bite you once since waking up?”

Dante considered this. The constant defensive aggression that usually radiated from Orion was notably absent. He was still sharp-tongued and suspicious, but the edge of violence was gone.

“Maybe you’re just accepting that I’m not going anywhere,” Dante said, the words coming out more honest than he’d intended.

“Bullshit.” But Orion’s eyes were bright with something that might have been hope. “My heat’s not done. I can still feel it. It’s just... different. Manageable.”

That was definitely not how heat cycles were supposed to work, but Dante found he didn’t particularly care about the medical implications. If Orion felt better, that was what mattered.

His bio-monitor beeped again, displaying new error messages:

ERROR: GLANDULAR ANOMALY DETECTED

WARNING: POTENTIAL FOREIGN CHEMICAL EXPOSURE

Potential foreign chemical exposure?The device was suggesting he’d been drugged, which was ridiculous unless you counted whatever Orion’s constant pheromone assault had done to his system. Which, judging by his current state of biochemical chaos, might not be that far off.

“We should get up,” Dante said, deflecting from implications he wasn’t ready to examine. “Coffee first, then we can figure out what the hell is happening to us.”

“Should,” Orion agreed, but made no move to leave the bed. “In a minute.”