Page 36 of The Sterling Acquisition (Manufactured Mates #1)
Chapter twenty-five
Asset Stress Testing
Dante
Driving was difficult, not because the van was a piece of shit—which it was—but because he had to listen to the increasingly desperate sounds coming from the back of the van—soft whimpers that hit every bump in the road, quiet gasps that accompanied each hot flash, and the kind of needy little noises that were making it very difficult to focus on anything resembling safe driving.
Focus, he told himself, even as his cock responded to every breathy sound Orion made.
You’re a highly trained operative, not a teenager who gets hard from audio porn.
But Orion’s heat was affecting him in ways that he hadn’t been prepared for, and every whimper was like a direct line to his primitive brain.
Christ, when did my rut start? The territorial rage, the possessive fury, the way he stabbed Labrador without a second thought—all textbook rut aggression .
The Neutral Zone checkpoint was visible in the distance, a sprawling collection of prefab buildings and security towers that marked the boundary between SVI territory and the lawless stretch of land that separated the major corporate territories.
“Neutral” was a generous term for what amounted to a free-for-all trading post where operatives from every major and minor corporation rubbed shoulders, made deals, and sometimes tried to kill each other.
The only thing neutral about it was the lack of a governing body—everything else ran on an honor system, and in Dante’s experience, corporate operatives didn’t have much honor to spare.
His encrypted phone buzzed against his hip, and Dante answered on the second ring, grateful for the distraction.
“Dante, darling,” Amalie’s voice was as cheerfully professional as ever. “Please tell me you have good news.”
“Extraction in progress,” he reported, keeping his voice steady despite the particularly loud whimper from the back of the van and the surge of possessive satisfaction that accompanied it.
Focus. Professional extraction. Not your Omega making those sounds.
“Almost out of SVI territory. I have all the research samples and the test subject.”
“Oh, wonderful!” The excitement in her voice was genuine, and Dante heard the familiar sound of typing in the background. “The Board is thrilled. I’m transferring a performance bonus to your account as we speak. You’ve really outdone yourself this time.”
There was another soft sound from behind him, and Dante’s knuckles went white on the steering wheel.
The primitive part of his brain supplied unhelpful suggestions about pulling over and dealing with Orion’s distress in a more direct manner.
Focus on Amalie’s voice. Focus on anything except the way Orion sounds.
“What’s the extraction protocol once I clear SVI territory? ”
“Well, once you can find your way to friendly territory—that’s our territory, of course—we can send a private plane or helicopter, whichever you prefer.
The route will require making it through the Neutral Zone without incident, then eighty-five miles through Static Zone territory before you reach the New St. Louis Land Conglomerate.
Should be straightforward enough for someone of your talents. ”
Straightforward. Sure. If you ignore the part where I’m well into a rut and there are berserkers in the Static Zones who’ll smell us coming from fifty miles away.
Dante could hear papers rustling, and when Amalie spoke again, her voice carried a note of scientific fascination that made his skin crawl.
“The scientists at headquarters have had a chance to look over Dr. Morrison’s research, and they’re fascinated.
Horrified, of course, but fascinated. A twenty-six-year-old Omega virgin with those physical attributes—well, it’s not something our scientists have seen, even the older ones.
The combination of beauty, size, and that level of resistance. .. It’s quite remarkable.”
The clinical way she discussed Orion made Dante’s jaw clench, and he felt the familiar surge of protective rage that had been getting stronger all day. Easy. She doesn’t know she’s talking about your Omega. Yet.
“Now, I do want to remind you to be safe and careful out there. For the sake of protecting the Project Tether data and keeping the test subject in ideal conditions for debriefing, you might want to consider picking up some industrial-strength suppressants. Or better yet, find a way to have the subject sedated for the rest of the trip.”
Dante’s grip on the phone tightened, his hindbrain rejecting the idea of suppressing Orion’s heat with a vehemence that caught him off guard. He doesn’t need to be drugged. He’s perfect as he is. He pushed the possessive thoughts down. Professional extraction. That’s all this is.
“Any particular reason?”
“Oh, you know how it is. Rogue Alphas who don’t have the same kind of training you do at resisting biological urges—not that I would ever suggest you’d be anything less than professional, of course. And then there are the things living out in the Static Zones. Berserkers, mostly.”
The message was clear: don’t fuck up the virginity thing. Dante had already resolved to do exactly that, no matter what, and he was just trying to figure out the best way to keep Orion while losing as little of himself as possible.
Too late for that, he thought with dark amusement. I already lost more of myself than I care to admit. The question now is whether I can live with what I’m becoming. And whether I can think clearly enough to get us out of this alive when every instinct I have is focused on claiming him.
“I’ll handle the situation appropriately,” he said.
“I’m sure you will. Safe travels, darling. Call when you reach friendly territory.”
The line went dead, and Dante pocketed the phone just as they crested a small hill.
A loud groan from the back of the van made him flinch.
The sound went straight through him, bypassing every rational thought and triggering an almost overwhelming urge to find Orion and fix whatever was making him sound like that.
This is getting dangerous, he realized. I can’t drive this distracted, and entering the Neutral Zone checkpoint like this is asking for trouble. Better to handle this now than risk both our lives because I can’t focus .
Dante pulled off the main road onto a dirt track that led toward a cluster of abandoned buildings—the kind of place where privacy could be bought with violence if necessary.
Tactical decision, he told himself as he parked behind a rusted-out grain silo. Can’t complete the mission if I wrap us around a tree because I’m too busy thinking about what Orion’s mouth would feel like wrapped around my—
He killed the engine before that thought could finish itself.
“Orion,” he called out, his voice rough with strain. “We need to talk.”
The response was a breathless, desperate sound that made Dante’s resolve crumble entirely. He climbed into the back of the van, pulling aside the false panel to reveal Orion curled in the cramped space, his face flushed and his breathing ragged.
Holy hell. Orion’s pupils were dilated, his lips parted, and there was a sheen of sweat on his skin that made him look like he’d been carved from marble and then brought to life for the sole purpose of driving Dante insane.
The urge to claim him swelled in Dante’s chest, a primal need to make Orion irrevocably his.
“You’re a fucking mess,” Dante said through gritted teeth, grabbing Orion’s arm as he pulled him to his feet.
“K-keep your hands off me,” Orion shot back, but the words came out more like a plea than an insult. His eyes were glassy with heat and the kind of desperate need that made rational thought impossible.
Every instinct Dante had was screaming at him that Orion needed him, needed his touch, needed his protection. He doesn’t mean that. He wants your hands on him. He needs them.
“Do you know how fucking distracting you are?”
Orion’s response was to swing at him—a weak, unsteady punch that Dante caught easily, his fingers wrapping around Orion’s wrist. The contact sent a jolt through his system, every nerve ending suddenly focused on the skin-to-skin contact.
“Really?” Dante asked, his voice deceptively mild. “That’s the best you can do?”
Orion’s answer was to try to bite him, teeth snapping at Dante’s throat. Dante jerked back, then slammed Orion against the side of the van hard enough to rattle the whole vehicle. The violence felt good in a way that should have concerned him.
“Better,” he said, and kissed him brutally.
Orion bit his lip in response, hard enough to draw blood. The taste of copper flooded Dante’s mouth, and he groaned, his hand tightening in Orion’s hair. Fuck, that’s good. The fight in him is what I want.
“Keep your hands off me,” Orion gasped, trying to knee him in the groin. Dante caught his leg, using the leverage to pin him more completely against the wall.
“GET OFF!” Orion snarled, thrashing against Dante’s hold.
“Getting there,” Dante replied, his free hand wrapping around Orion’s throat. Not tight enough to cut off air, but enough to make his point. “But first, you’re going to learn some manners.”
Dante drank in every struggle, every defiant sound. His biology was singing with satisfaction at Orion’s resistance. This is what I want. This fire, this defiance. Not some broken, compliant shell.
Orion’s response was to slap him, the crack of palm against cheek echoing in the cramped space.
“Good,” he said, and returned the favor—a sharp slap snapped Orion’s head back. “Now we’re both being honest.”
The slap caught Orion off guard, his cheek flaring red. His mouth fell open in shock as tears sprang to his eyes.
Christ almighty. The sight of those tears went straight to Dante’s cock, something primal and possessive roaring to life in his chest. He’s so responsive. So perfect. Look what you do to him.