Page 11 of The Sterling Acquisition (Manufactured Mates #1)
Orion was sprawled on his narrow bed, dark hair damp with sweat, skin flushed with fever.
His muscles were visibly tense, his body fighting his biology with the same stubborn defiance he showed Leo.
When glassy amber eyes fixed on Dante, they were bright with challenge and something that looked dangerously like invitation, though his hands trembled as they gripped the thin sheets.
Even from across the room, Dante could see the rapid, shallow breathing and the way Orion kept shifting position, unable to get comfortable as his core temperature climbed and his skin became hypersensitive.
Pre-heat was a miserable experience when fought rather than embraced. And Orion was fighting it with everything he had.
“Let me guess,” Orion began, “Leo sent you to do more ‘assessments’ while he deals with whatever crisis you manufactured at the facility.”
Dante smiled despite himself. “You know about that?”
“I’m assuming you did something to make him break his routine.” Orion shifted on the bed, and the movement made his shirt pull tight across his chest. “So what do you want badly enough to commit sabotage? ”
You. Preferably naked, preferably begging, preferably right fucking now.
“You know what I want,” Dante said, closing the door behind him.
“Do I? Because last time you said you wanted me, but here you are still playing corporate games.”
Dante moved closer. “I’m here because I want to steal you from Leo before he gets a chance to chemically lobotomize you or whatever he’s cooking up in the research facility.”
“Steal me.” Orion’s voice went flat. “So I become your property instead?”
“You become mine, yes. But there’s a significant difference between how Leo would own you and how I would.”
The difference is that I’d know what to do with you.
“So you’d be a more competent owner?” Orion’s laugh was sharp. “How progressive.”
“Significantly more competent. Leo wants to break you into compliance. I want to keep you exactly as you are and earn your cooperation instead.”
Earn it through superior technique, better strategy, and the kind of attention to detail that would leave you too satisfied to remember why you were fighting in the first place.
“Earn my cooperation in being owned.”
“Earn your cooperation in a mutually beneficial arrangement within realistic parameters.” Dante’s tone carried casual confidence. “Omegas need Alphas, Orion. It’s biology. The question is whether you’d prefer an Alpha who appreciates your intelligence or one who sees it as a problem.”
Orion stared at him in a way that Dante could see something dangerous building behind those amber eyes .
“You really believe that. You think owning me would be good for me.”
“I think it would be considerably better than the alternatives you’re facing.” Dante took another step towards him, and even through the blockers, Orion’s scent was making his mouth water. “Chemical bonding, physical coercion, or attempting to survive as an unprotected Omega.”
Or I could just push you down on that bed right now and show you how much better my approach would be.
“What if I don’t want to be owned at all?”
“Then you’d be making an unrealistic choice based on idealism rather than practical assessment.” Dante’s patience was the kind reserved for explaining obvious facts. “Freedom is a luxury your circumstances don’t allow for.”
“So I should be grateful for a prettier cage?”
“You should be intelligent enough to recognize superior resource management when it’s offered.”
The clinical language made Orion’s eyes flash with something murderous. “Resource management.”
“You are brilliant, beautiful, and currently mismanaged resource with extraordinary potential,” Dante said without hesitation. “I’d prefer to manage you properly.”
Starting with getting you out of that shirt and finding out if you taste as good as you smell.
“You arrogant piece of shit.”
Dante smiled. “Yes. But I’m a competent piece of shit who wants to keep you alive and mentally intact. Which puts me significantly ahead of your other options.”
“All of which involve being owned by arrogant pieces of shit. ”
“Exactly. I’m simply the best version of an inevitable outcome.” Dante’s shrug was casual. “Intelligence over idealism, Orion.”
Intelligence like recognizing that arguing with you is significantly less appealing than finding out what sounds you make when you stop being sarcastic.
The air was thick with competing pheromones and barely restrained tension. Dante could see the rapid pulse at Orion’s throat, could smell the way his scent was shifting despite his obvious anger. He wanted so badly to taste him—
Fuck. This room is too small, and he smells too good, and I’m about five minutes away from doing something that would definitely compromise the mission.
“I need to get out of this room,” Dante said abruptly.
“Can’t handle the close quarters?”
“Can’t handle your scent overwhelming my blockers while you’re in pre-heat and I’m trying to maintain professional objectivity.”
“And what happens to professional objectivity if we leave this room?” Orion’s voice carried a note of suspicion, but Dante caught the flicker of interest in his eyes.
“We find out.” Dante moved toward the door. “Unless you’d prefer to stay here and wait for Leo to come back.”
Orion stared at him for a long moment, then slowly stood. The motion was casual, almost nonchalant, but Dante noted the way his eyes darted to the open door—calculating, measuring, assessing the opportunity being presented.
“This would be the first time, you know,” Orion said, his tone light. “Walking out instead of being dragged. Or escaping.”
“I’m aware.”
“Leo will lose his mind when he finds out. ”
“Leo gave me complete discretion for psychological assessment. I’m exercising that discretion.”
A smile spread across Orion’s face—wild and dangerous and beautiful. It was the smile of someone being offered a weapon and recognizing its value immediately.
“Well,” he said, stepping toward the doorway with deliberate casualness that couldn’t quite hide the tension in his shoulders, “this should be interesting.”