Page 8 of The Sterling Acquisition (Manufactured Mates #1)

Chapter six

Damage Control

Dante

The shower in Dante’s company-issued apartment had three temperature settings: arctic, scalding, and “please hold while we determine what fresh hell the building’s plumbing has in store for you today.

” He’d been standing under the scalding setting for twenty minutes, letting water hot enough to strip paint cascade over his shoulders, and he still couldn’t wash away the memory of Orion’s tear-filled eyes.

Yesterday’s “aftermath management” had been a masterclass in professional composure meeting primal instinct.

After Leo’s humiliating exit, Dante spent forty minutes in Orion’s room with a first aid kit, tending to split lips and bruised ribs while trying to maintain the professional distance expected of a Gensyn consultant.

It had been the most erotically charged medical assessment of his career.

Listen to yourself. ‘Erotically charged medical assessment.’ All that training and you’re developing a fetish for playing battlefield medic .

But that’s exactly what it had been. Orion, stripped to the waist so Dante could assess the damage to his ribs, his skin flushed with pre-heat and marked with evidence of Leo’s violence.

He hissed when Dante’s fingers probed for fractures.

His back arched when the antiseptic hit the scrapes on his shoulder blades.

His eyes held Dante captive. Furious, vulnerable, watching every move with the intensity of someone solving a dangerous equation.

When Dante cleaned the blood from his split lip with careful precision, Orion’s breathing went shallow and uneven, his scent shifting to something that made Dante’s fingers unsteady with the effort of maintaining distance.

The most unsettling moment came when Orion’s defenses cracked. Just for an instant, while Dante checked the bruises on his throat with gentle fingers, Orion’s eyes filled with tears he refused to let fall. Not from pain. From recognition. The simple shock of being touched without violence.

Pathetic. You’re aroused by an Omega’s trauma response.

Except that wasn’t quite right. What made Dante’s pulse spike wasn’t Orion’s vulnerability—it was the trust. Orion stilled under his hands, letting Dante touch him, tend to him, despite every rational reason to expect more violence.

His gaze tracked Dante’s movements with a flicker of possibility buried under layers of caution.

Dante’s hand moved down his own body, water streaming over his shoulders as he surrendered to the fantasy that had been driving him slowly insane since yesterday. Orion looking up at him, that filthy mouth that had been spitting profanity and defiance silent for entirely different reasons.

What would it take to make you quiet, beautiful? What would it take to replace that angry fire with something else ?

In his imagination, Orion was on his knees in that sterile little room, hands bound behind his back, lips parted around Dante’s length.

His eyes were bright with want instead of fury, tears streaming down flushed cheeks—not from pain or fear, but from the overwhelming sensation of being completely, thoroughly claimed.

“Please,” imaginary Orion would whisper when Dante pulled back, voice wrecked and desperate. “Please, I need—”

“What do you need?” Dante would ask, threading his fingers through that dark hair, controlling the pace, the depth, everything.

“You. I need you.”

Dante’s grip tightened on himself, water and steam creating the perfect environment for a fantasy that was probably classified as a humanitarian crisis by several international treaties.

Orion’s smart mouth put to better use, those challenging amber eyes looking up at him with submission instead of defiance, the sound of his name falling from bruised lips like a prayer—

His orgasm hit him like a corporate restructuring—sudden, devastating, and leaving him questioning all his previous life choices.

He braced his free hand against the shower wall, breathing hard as release washed over him in waves that had nothing to do with hot water and everything to do with storm winds and defiant eyes.

The post-orgasm clarity was immediate and brutal.

Well. That’s concerning.

Dante stood under the spray, letting the water cool while his rational mind catalogued how many professional, ethical, and possibly legal boundaries he’d just violated in his imagination.

He was supposed to be conducting espionage, not developing elaborate sexual fantasies about a colleague’s traumatized Omega.

Keep using clinical terms. Maybe if you dehumanize him enough, you’ll stop wanting to—

No. That line of thinking led nowhere useful. The truth was that Orion had stopped being a “subject” the moment Orion met his gaze with intelligence and calculation and absolutely zero submission while wrestling Leo in public.

Dante turned off the water and reached for a towel, catching sight of himself in the bathroom mirror.

He looked marginally more human than he had yesterday, but there was still something in his expression that had nothing to do with professional efficiency.

Something hungry and possessive that would have triggered an immediate psychological evaluation if anyone at Gensyn headquarters could see it.

His phone buzzed on the bathroom counter with a message from Amalie:

Amalie

Dante, sweetie, I’ve been reviewing your biomarker data, and I have to say, some of your readings are quite elevated. Everything alright?

Dante froze, a chill spreading through his chest. If Amalie was commenting on “elevated readings,” it meant his body’s response to Orion’s pre-heat was showing up in institutional databases halfway across the continent.

Minor environmental factors. The building’s quite old. Possible interference from outdated electrical systems.

Amalie

How fascinating! Old infrastructure can certainly play havoc with our monitoring systems. Do keep an eye on those readings, though. We’d hate for you to develop any complications during your collaboration.

Amalie’s characteristic maternal warmth was there, but after working with her for eight years despite never having met face-to-face, Dante understood that last message loud and clear.

Gensyn was watching, and if his biomarkers continued to suggest he was having unprofessional responses to local stimuli, there would be questions he wasn’t prepared to answer.

Dante set the phone aside and finished getting dressed, choosing his most conservative suit as armor against the day ahead. He had work to do—actual work that didn’t involve elaborate shower fantasies or tending to captivating Omegas’ injuries.

The morning briefing with Dr. Voss’s vaccination team was the kind of mind-numbing cross-company collaboration that Dante excelled at.

Charts showing viral mutation rates, production efficiency metrics, cost-benefit analyses that reduced human suffering to quarterly projections.

The perfect environment for a Gensyn operative to gather intelligence while maintaining professional cover.

Instead, Dante struggled to focus on anything beyond the fact that Orion was back in 4A, all alone, dealing with pre-heat symptoms that were getting progressively worse. Symptoms I could help with…

Focus. Do your actual job for five minutes.

“The biodiversity data is interesting,” Dr. Voss was saying, gesturing at a wall display showing viral strain distributions. “SVI territory sees approximately forty percent more influenza variants than comparable Gensyn regions.”

“Environmental factors?” Dante asked, forcing his attention back to the presentation .

“Partially. But also behavioral. Gensyn’s suppression protocols create more isolated population clusters.

Less viral mixing, fewer mutation opportunities.

” Dr. Voss’s smile was bright and academic.

“Of course, that also means less natural immunity development. Your people are wonderfully healthy right up until they encounter something their systems haven’t been prepared for.

There was an influenza mutation in the St. Louis Land Conglomerate that had a rather high mortality rate last year, correct? .”

“Nineteen percent mortality rate. Immune systems are not known for strength amongst Gensyn populations.” Dante confirmed. “Gensyn favors efficiency over adaptability. Classic optimization trade-off.”

“Exactly. Which brings us to some fascinating questions about Alpha behavioral patterns as well.” Dr. Voss pulled up another chart, this one showing demographic data that made Dante’s professional mask slip.

“SVI’s approach to Omega management produces significantly different outcomes than Gensyn’s pharmaceutical protocols. ”

“Different how?”

“Resistance patterns, primarily. Gensyn Omegas show ninety-three percent baseline compliance within sixty days of assignment. SVI Omegas...” Dr. Voss paused, consulting her notes. “Well, let’s just say our numbers are more variable.”

Duckie Chang, the nervous lab tech, snorted from his position by the coffee machine. “Variable. That’s one way to put it.”

“Mr. Chang is correct to be skeptical,” Dr. Voss continued. “SVI’s ‘forge your own destiny’ philosophy creates unique challenges in asset management. Some of our researchers have developed quite innovative approaches to behavioral modification.”

Unease settled in Dante’s chest. “Innovative how?”

“Well, take Leo James, for example. Brilliant vaccine researcher, but he’s been working on a particularly challenging domestic situation for almost a year now, to the point where it affects his productivity at work. He’s a fascinating case study in Alpha persistence.”

“I’ve met Leo,” Dante said. “He mentioned some... management challenges.”