Page 46 of The Sterling Acquisition (Manufactured Mates #1)

“There we go.” Tallulah’s smile was sharp.

“Corporate espionage with a side of conscience. Now we’re getting somewhere.

” Her gaze fixed on Dante with unnerving focus.

“But here’s what I’m wondering—how do I know you’re not leading SVI or your own people right to my door?

How do I know this isn’t some elaborate corporate play with my community as collateral damage? ”

“Because I burned my extraction.” Dante’s voice came out rough.

In his peripheral vision, he could see Orion’s chest rising and falling too rapidly, his fingers digging into the arms of his chair.

The sight triggered another protective surge that nearly had him crossing the room before he caught himself.

“And they aren’t coming to get you?” Tallulah’s tone hinted she found this highly unlikely.

“They think I’m bringing him in.” Dante’s laugh was bitter. “I have seventy-two hours before they realize I’m not coming.”

Tallulah studied him, then shifted her attention to Orion. “And what about you? Even though you’re sweatier than a beer bottle in summer, you seem awfully calm for someone who’s supposedly been kidnapped by a corporate operative.”

Orion looked like he was going to respond, but suddenly he gripped the arms of his chair, curling in on himself as his heat continued to make his life hell.

Dante took a step forward, wanting nothing more than to tell everyone to get the fuck out of the room so he could handle Orion on his own, but he gritted his teeth instead.

The movement wasn’t lost on Tallulah, whose eyebrows rose fractionally.

“I think,” Orion managed, his voice strained but determined, “that b-being kidnapped by him is p-preferable to being c-chemically lobotomized by SVI.”

“Project Tether,” Dante explained quickly. “Forced bonding technology. They were going to use it to break his resistance permanently.”

“Well, shit.” Tallulah sat back in her wheelchair, her expression darkening.

“That’s a new level of evil, even for SVI.

” She studied Dante’s obvious distress as Orion’s condition worsened.

“And what is your plan for this honey badger once you get where you’re going?

Hand him over to your bosses for their own version of the same thing? ”

“No.” The word came out like a growl, carrying more possessive fury than any professional response should. Dante could feel his control slipping further with each passing minute. His bio-monitor would be sending frantic alerts to his handlers. “That’s not happening.”

Tallulah’s eyes gleamed with interest. “My, my. So you’re willing to burn your corporate career for an Omega you’ve known what, a couple weeks? That’s either true love or spectacular stupidity.”

Before Dante could process her words, Tallulah continued: “Either way, you’ve got bigger problems than corporate career suicide.

That boy’s heat is the nastiest I’ve ever seen, and you look like you’re about ready to rip someone’s throat out just from standing downwind.

” Her tone sharpened. “So here’s what’s going to happen.

I need your vehicle keys. Van needs a tune-up anyway, and we’ll get it refueled while we’re at it.

You boys are staying here tonight—you both look like hell, and if you’re planning to make it through the rest of the Static Zones without getting yourselves killed, you need rest.”

Dante wanted to argue about the need to keep moving, but another spike of Orion’s scent assaulted him first. His vision grayed at the edges, and he had to lock his knees to keep from swaying.

Tallulah noticed, of course. “Jesus, boy. When’s the last time you had a proper rut?”

“That’s not—” Dante started, then stopped. There was no point in denying what was obvious to everyone in the room. “It’s under control.”

“Like hell it is.” Tallulah’s laugh was sharp.

“Son, I’ve seen Alphas in rut before, and you’re hanging on by a thread thinner than spider silk.

” She fixed him with that paint-stripping stare again.

“Look, you can stay at Lilac’s house, she’s off doing her nonsense and won’t be back for a few.

But let me be crystal clear about something, corporate boy.

If any of your friends from SVI or Gensyn or those Elysian freaks show up at my door—I will personally kill both of you before I deal with whoever came calling.

And don’t think I won’t, because I’ve done it before.

More times than you’d think. That’s how you survive out here. ”

The casual delivery of the death threat was unsettling, like she would kill them efficiently and without drama, then probably make herself a sandwich.

“I understand,” Dante said, his voice strained as he fought another wave of possessive fury triggered by Orion’s worsening condition.

He fished the van keys from his pocket with hands that trembled.

“We have supplies in the vehicle—food, medical equipment, some basic tools. You’re welcome to whatever you need in exchange for the fuel and shelter. ”

“Keep your corporate charity.” Tallulah waved a dismissive hand. “Money isn’t worth shit out here, and I don’t need your—” She stopped mid-sentence, her attention snapping to Orion.

Orion was shaking uncontrollably, his face flushed with fever despite the tremors wracking his frame. Sage was already moving, grabbing blankets from a chest that looked like it had been carved from a single piece of living wood. “C-cold,” he managed to force out.

“He’s not doing too good,” Sage observed with the kind of understatement that implied medical emergencies were routine around here.

Dante felt every muscle in his body lock with the effort of not crossing the room. The sight of strangers touching Orion—even to help him—triggered a flood of territorial aggression that threatened to overwhelm years of careful conditioning.

Breathe. Focus. Assess. The training mantras cycled through his mind automatically, even as his body temperature continued to climb and his vision narrowed further.

“Do you have suppressants?” Dante asked, his professional composure cracking as he watched Orion’s condition deteriorate. “Even over-the-counter ones would help with the worst of it. ”

Tallulah laughed. “Son, why would we need suppressants? We’re Nulls.

” But her expression softened as she took in Dante’s obvious distress.

“Tell you what, though—I can get you set up with running water quick-like. Cool baths help with the hot flashes, and all the house’s got rooms that stay nice and temperature-controlled. ”

Relief flooded through Dante with embarrassing intensity. “Thank you. Genuinely, thank you.”

He held out his hand for a handshake, the kind of gesture that sealed agreements in every corporate boardroom he’d ever worked. It was an automatic response, a piece of conditioning so deeply embedded that it emerged even as his biology was fighting to take control.

Tallulah looked at his extended hand, then at his face, and grinned with absolute delight. She spit into her palm, then grabbed his hand and shook it.

Dante’s corporate conditioning recoiled in horror, but somehow he managed not to flinch. Much. The handshake protocol violation was so extreme that his mind briefly went blank, unable to process the fundamental breach of corporate etiquette.

“Welcome to the Prairie Null Collective, corporate boy,” Tallulah said, still grinning. “Try not to die on us. The paperwork’s a real bitch.”