Page 31 of The Sterling Acquisition

He didn’t ask permission. He just decided you belonged to him and acted accordingly.

That should have been terrifying. It was terrifying. But it was also... honest.

He just wants you. And he’s competent enough to take you.

The thought sent a thrill through him.

This is how it starts. This is how smart Omegas convince themselves that being owned by someone competent is better than freedom.

But even as his rational mind catalogued all the ways this was dangerous, his body was still responding to the memory of Dante’s touch.The way those long fingers mapped his chest with confident precision. The filthy things he whispered while systematically destroying Orion’s control.

“I want to finger you open while I suck your cock.”

His cocked twitched back to life at the memory, and Orion cursed under his breath. The suppressants were supposed to be managing this kind of response, but apparently they couldn’t do anything about his brain’s tendency to replay the most explicit parts of Dante’s threats.

Promises. They felt like promises.

From somewhere deeper in the apartment came the sound of running water—Dante in the shower, washing off the scent of what they’d done. The image that conjured was immediately problematic: Dante under hot water, steam rising around that lean, controlled body, hands moving over skin that Orion had barely gotten to touch…

Stop. You need to stop thinking about this.

But his imagination had already supplied vivid details: water running down Dante’s chest, those clever hands that had just been on Orion now touching himself, maybe thinking about what he wanted to do next…

This is what he wanted. He wanted to get in your head, make you think about him, make you want more.

And it was working. Despite his anger, despite his fear, despite every rational reason this was a terrible idea, Orion found himself wondering what would happen if he went to that bathroom. If he pushed open the door and let Dante see exactly how much he’d been affected.

What would he do? Would he pull you into the shower with him? Would he push you to your knees and—

“Fuck,” Orion muttered, pressing the palms of his hands against his eyes. The suppressants were supposed to be giving him mentalclarity, not making him fantasize about the Alpha who’d just sexually assaulted him.

Was it assault if you didn’t try to stop him? If some part of you wanted what he was doing?

That was the question that kept eating at him. Because he protested every step of the way, but he responded with enthusiasm that had nothing to do with pre-heat and everything to do with the way Dante handled him.

Like he knew what you needed even when you didn’t.

The shower shut off, and Orion’s pulse spiked with something that might have been anticipation. In a few minutes, Dante would emerge from that bathroom, probably wearing nothing but a towel, steam still clinging to his skin. And Orion would have to sit there and pretend he wasn’t thinking about what that body looked like, what it would feel like pressed against his with nothing between them.

You can’t stay here. Not overnight. Not when you’re thinking about him like this.

The realization hit him with sudden clarity. Staying here, sleeping on Dante’s couch while surrounded by his scent, would be a mistake of epic proportions. Because Orion’s self-control was already hanging by a thread, and proximity to the Alpha who’d just proven how easily he could be overwhelmed was not going to help.

You need to go back. Back to your cage, back to familiar territory, back to somewhere you can think clearly.

The sound of a door opening made Orion’s decision for him. He was on his feet and moving toward the apartment exit before Dante could emerge from the bathroom, before that post-shower scent could fill the space and make his already compromised judgment even worse.

The hallway stretched before him, fourteen floors of identical corporate housing arranged in neat, numbered rows. His bare feet madeno sound on the industrial carpet as he moved quickly toward Leo’s apartment, heart hammering with something between panic and determination. Each step away from Dante’s door felt both like retreat and victory—running from danger while choosing his own path.

He paused at Leo’s door, taking a deep breath to steady himself.

Coward. You’re running like a coward.

Maybe. But he was a coward who would wake up tomorrow still in control of his own choices, able to think clearly about his options. And right now, that felt more important than pride.

What are you going to tell him? How are you going to explain spending the evening with his corporate consultant?

The lie came to him easily—years of survival made him good at creative truth-telling. Dante had talked him through some pre-heat management techniques and left him to rest in the main apartment while Leo dealt with work. Nothing sexual, nothing inappropriate, just professional courtesy from one corporate employee to another.