Page 12 of The Sterling Acquisition (Manufactured Mates #1)

Chapter eight

Dangerous Territory

Orion

The first thing that hit Orion as they walked into Dante’s apartment was space. Actual space to move, to breathe, to exist without feeling like the walls were closing in around him. He forgot what it felt like to stand in a room where he could extend his arms without touching anything.

The space was meticulously organized and deliberately impersonal: no photographs, unused kitchen, perfectly aligned tablet on a glass coffee table. Standard corporate furnishings arranged with military precision. Like a hotel room occupied by a ghost who existed in the space without living in it.

The second thing that hit him was Dante’s scent.

In the small confines of his cage, the Alpha’s pheromones had been manageable. Noticeable, yes. Distracting, absolutely. But manageable.

Here, in what was Dante’s territory, his scent was everywhere. Soaked into the furniture, lingering in the air, marking every surface and making Orion’s pre-heat biology respond with an interest he did not want to feel.

Dangerous. This is dangerous.

“Better?” Dante asked, and there was something in his voice that made Orion look at him more carefully.

The corporate polish was still there, but there were cracks showing.

Small ones—the way his eyes lingered a bit too long, the slight tension in his shoulders, the way he was standing just a little too close and leaning towards him.

As if being in his own space, now mixed with Orion’s scent, was affecting him too.

Good. Let him be affected. Let him make mistakes.

“Better,” Orion agreed, though he wasn’t sure it was true. The freedom of movement was intoxicating, but everything else about this situation was setting off alarm bells in his head.

He was alone with an Alpha who wanted to own him. In that Alpha’s territory. While in pre-heat. You’re an idiot. A desperate, reckless idiot.

But the alternative had been staying in that cage, waiting for Leo to return. And despite Dante’s casual arrogance, his clinical language, and his absolute certainty that ownership was inevitable, Orion believed him when he said he preferred Omegas mentally intact.

Which made him either Orion’s potential salvation or the most dangerous threat he’d ever encountered.

Probably both.

“Suppressants,” Dante said, tossing a pill bottle toward Orion. “So we can talk without your scent being so distracting.”

Orion caught the bottle and studied the pills through the transparent plastic. Small, white, unmarked. They could be suppressants. They could be sedatives. They could be anything .

He could have drugged you anytime in the past week if that’s what he wanted. He could have overpowered you in the cage if he wanted to force something. He’s had opportunities.

That logic didn’t make the decision feel any less like stepping off a cliff.

Orion dry-swallowed two pills and waited to see if he’d just made a catastrophic mistake.

“How long before they take full effect?” he asked, surprised by how steady his voice sounded.

“Twenty minutes for the initial dampening. Full effect in about an hour.” Dante moved to what looked like a small kitchen area, and Orion noted how he moved—controlled, economical, but with an underlying tension that suggested whatever Gensyn had him on was failing. “Water?”

“Sure.”

Orion watched Dante’s hands as he filled two glasses. Long fingers, steady grip, but there was something in the way he held himself, like he was working very hard to maintain that corporate facade.

What happens when it slips?

The thought should have been purely tactical—understanding an opponent’s weaknesses.

Instead, it sent an unwelcome thrill through him that had nothing to do with strategy and everything to do with the part of his biology that was interested in finding out what this particular Alpha looked like when he stopped being controlled.

Stop it. Focus.

“Your apartment,” Orion said, accepting the glass and using the conversation to distract himself from increasingly dangerous thoughts. “It’s... sparse.”

“Corporate housing. Temporary assignment.” Dante leaned against the counter, and the casual pose somehow made him look more dangerous rather than less. “I don’t accumulate things I can’t carry.”

“Planning to leave soon?”

“Planning to be prepared for rapid departure if necessary.”

“And would that rapid departure include stolen corporate assets?”

Dante smirked. “If the assets were valuable enough to justify the risk.”

The way he looked at Orion when he said it made it clear which assets he was considering. It should have been threatening. It was threatening. But there was something about the directness, the lack of pretense, that was almost refreshing after Leo’s incompetent fumbling.

At least he’s honest about what he wants. Leo pretends it’s about bonding and partnership and all sorts of romantic bullshit. Dante just wants to own you and isn’t ashamed about it.

“And you think I’m valuable enough?”

“I think you’re the most valuable thing I’ve encountered in years.” Dante’s voice dropped. “The question is whether you’re smart enough to recognize mutual benefit when it’s offered.”

Your benefit and his benefit, defined by him.

But even as Orion’s rational mind ran through all the ways this was a terrible idea, his body was responding to the Alpha’s proximity, his scent, the confident way he claimed ownership of the space around him.

The pre-heat wasn’t being medically suppressed yet, and being in close quarters with an Alpha who smelled right was making his skin feel too tight.

“The mutual benefit being that I get to be owned by someone competent instead of someone incompetent. ”

“The mutual benefit is that you get protection, intellectual stimulation, and care from someone who values what you are instead of trying to break what you are.”

Care. He keeps using that word like it means something different when he says it.

“And in return?”

“In return, I get the most fascinating, brilliant, beautiful Omega I’ve ever met.” Dante moved closer, and his scent seemed to intensify. “Seems like a fair trade.”

Fair according to whom?

But Orion’s protest died in his throat as Dante stepped into what was definitely personal space.

Close enough that he could see the way the Alpha’s pupils dilated.

Close enough to smell the complex layers of his scent—something that smelled like hunger and possession and want.

He’s corporate. Point out his lack of professionalism, and he’ll back off.

“You’re staring,” Dante said softly.

“You’re close.”

“Too close?”

Orion’s rational mind screamed yes. His hindbrain, however, was offering different opinions about optimal Alpha proximity.

“That depends,” Orion said, “on what you’re planning to do.”

It was supposed to be a challenge. A test to see if Dante would back down or reveal more of his intentions. Instead, it seemed to flip some kind of switch in the Alpha’s carefully controlled demeanor.

The corporate mask didn’t slip—it shattered.

One moment, Dante was standing at a too-close but restrained distance. The next, Orion found himself slammed against the wall with an Alpha’s full weight pinning him there, strong hands gripping his wrists and forcing them above his head .

“Let go,” Orion snarled, struggling against the hold. “Get the fuck off me.”

“No.” Dante’s voice was rough, dangerous, nothing like the controlled corporate tone he’d been using.

“I’m done with being polite. I’m done pretending I don’t want to pin you down and fuck you senseless.

I’m going to touch you, and you’re going to take it, and we’re both going to enjoy every fucking second of it. ”

Fight. Move. Do something.

But Dante’s grip was iron, his body a solid wall of muscle.. The Alpha was bigger, stronger, and the way he was looking at Orion—like he was already imagining him naked—made something dark uncurl in his stomach.

“Let me go, you bastard,” Orion snarled, but his voice came out breathless rather than commanding.

“Not a fucking chance.” Dante shifted his grip to hold both of Orion’s wrists with one hand, freeing the other to grab his jaw. “I’ve been watching you for days, thinking about what I’d do if I got my hands on you. Now I’m going to show you exactly what you’ve been missing.”

“I said let me go.”

I don’t want him to let go.

“Your mouth says that.” Dante’s thumb pressed against Orion’s lips, and there was something predatory in his smile. “But your body is telling me to fuck you until you can’t remember your own name. Which message do you think I’m going to listen to?”

He’s right. Damn him, he’s right.

Despite every rational protest, despite his verbal resistance, Orion could feel his body responding to the Alpha’s raw dominance, the way he took complete control without apology .

“You like pushing my buttons,” Dante observed. “Fighting me, calling me names, you like this.”

Because you’re not trying to break me, you’re trying to overwhelm me.

“You’re fucking delusional.”

“I’m fucking observant.” Dante leaned closer, his breath hot against Orion’s throat. “Your scent is changing, getting sweet and needy. Your pupils are blown, and you’re not trying to hurt me despite having plenty of opportunities.”

The casual analysis, delivered while pinning him to a wall, should have been clinical. Instead, it felt like being dissected by someone who enjoyed what they found.

“And you know what else I can smell?” Dante continued, his voice dropping to something absolutely filthy. “I can smell how fucking wet you’re getting. How much your body wants me to touch you, claim you, fuck you properly.”

“Shut up,” Orion gasped, breathless because it was true.

“I’m going to put my mouth on your throat,” Dante whispered. “Find that spot that makes you whimper. Then I’m going to work my way down, learn every place that makes you arch and beg for more.”

Don’t listen to him. Don’t let him get in your head.