The Sterling Acquisition : A Steamy MM Alpha/Omega Corporate Dystopia Romance (Manufactured Mates Book 1), page 13
But not enough to know when.
Dante composed a brief report for Amalie, uploading the basic Project Tether specifications along with his assessment that this represented a significant breach of corporate ethics standards. Gensyn would want to know that SVI was developing forced bonding technology, regardless of how the current situation resolved.
But as he wrote the clinical assessment, he found himself omitting certain details—specifically, Orion’s name and his growing interest in extracting Orion from the situation. Standard procedure would be to report all aspects of the operation, including all information regarding potential asset acquisition. His decision to withhold information was itself a breach of protocol, a small but significant crack in his many years of perfect compliance.
The real question was what to do about Orion.
The smart play was to complete his original mission—steal the full research when he had better access, extract what intelligence he could, and return to Gensyn with valuable corporate secrets. Clean, professional, by the book.
The problem was that “by the book” meant leaving Orion to Morrison’s experiment.
Dante stared at Orion’s photograph in the subject file, remembering the fury on his face, the magnificent way he fought even when his body was working against him. The thought of that brilliant, defiant mind being chemically altered into grateful compliance made the room feel too small.
Even more disturbing was the realization that Gensyn might not view Project Tether as a travesty to be prevented, but as technology to be acquired. They might see Orion not as someone to be saved, but as a valuable test subject already undergoing a procedure they would want to replicate. The distinction between Gensyn’s methods and SVI’s suddenly seemed much less clear than it had a week ago.
He had to find a way to communicate the threat without compromising his cover, and to assess whether Orion would trust him enough to cooperate with an escape plan.
Because saving someone who didn’t want to be saved was a very different operation from extracting a willing asset.
Chapter fourteen
Necessary Revelations
Dante
Dante was reviewing vaccine production reports when Leo’s message came through on the encrypted device:
Leo James
Need consultation ASAP. Stable for two days but showing renewed agitation this morning. Your expertise is required.
The timing was almost perfect. The vaccine scaling protocols Dante provided were running smoothly enough that SVI barely needed his input anymore—they’d only call when they hit roadblocks or were ready for the next phase of their exchange. Which meant he had the afternoon free to deal with more pressing matters.
Like the data drive burning a hole in his jacket pocket and the impossible conversation he needed to have with Orion.
Twenty minutes later, he was standing in Leo’s apartment doorway, noting the stress lines that returned to the man’s face overnight. The standard-issue SVI housing unit felt even more oppressive today—the industrial beige walls closing in, the recycled air carrying traces of Leo’s anxiety.
“Thank you for coming so quickly,” Leo said, ushering him inside with nervous energy. “He was so manageable the last couple of days—helped with dishes, watched a movie, even turned down an advance gently instead of trying to claw my eyes out. I thought we made a breakthrough.”
“And this morning?”
“Back to refusing eye contact, one-word answers, that general hostility that makes me feel like I’m walking on broken glass.” Leo gestured helplessly toward the locked door. “Whatever progress we made seems to have evaporated.”
Dante nodded thoughtfully, though he suspected Orion’s renewed agitation had more to do with impending heat cycles than psychological regression. “These kinds of setbacks are normal during behavioral modification. The mind doesn’t give up established patterns easily.”
“Is there anything you can do? Another session like the ones that have been working?”
“Certainly. Though I’ll need the same conditions for an emergency session—some of the psychological mapping techniques I use are unfortunately classified under Gensyn’s proprietary methods.”
Leo’s face fell. “I was hoping to observe, maybe learn some of the approaches that seem so effective.”
“I understand the interest, but I’m only authorized to share the vaccine production protocols as part of our corporate exchange. The behavioral assessment techniques fall under different clearance levels.” Dante kept his tone apologetic but firm. “I’m already pushing boundaries by using them at all without official authorization.”
“Of course, I understand.” Leo’s disappointment was obvious, but his gratitude was stronger. “The fact that you’re willing to help at all, especially with methods your company usually keeps confidential... I can’t express how much I appreciate it.”
A picture of this man should be put in a Gensyn training manual next to the description for ‘ideal targets’.
“Professional courtesy,” Dante replied. “We’re all working toward the same goals.”
Leo gathered his materials for the research facility, eager to give Dante whatever time he needed. “Take as long as necessary. If these techniques can bring back the progress we saw earlier this week, it’s worth any amount of consultation time.”
After Leo left, Dante stood outside Orion’s door for a moment, collecting his thoughts. Inside that room was someone whose entire future hung in the balance, and Dante was about to ask him to trust the very type of corporate predator who created this situation in the first place.
No pressure at all.
The locks clicked open, and Dante could smell the difference. The suppressants he gave Orion were no longer masking anything—if anything, they seemed to be making the situation worse, and it seemed like his own scent blockers ran away in defeat. The air was thick with pheromones that spoke of biological chaos and distress.
Orion was sitting on the bed with his back to the door, shoulders rigid with tension. He didn’t turn around when Dante entered, didn’t acknowledge his presence beyond a slight stiffening of his posture. The distance between them—maybe eight feet—suddenly seemed both too far and dangerously close.
“Good morning,” Dante said.
“Leo’s not here.” Orion’s voice was clipped, dismissive. “You can drop the professional consultation act.”
“I wasn’t planning to maintain it.” Dante moved closer, noting the way Orion’s scent spiked with each step. The air was becoming almost unbearable—like being trapped in a perfume shop designed by someone with a sadistic sense of humor. “We need to talk.”
Orion’s shoulders tensed further, his hands gripping the edge of the mattress hard enough that his knuckles whitened. “About what? Your progress reports? How well your psychological conditioning is working?”
“I know more about what they’re planning to do to you.”
That got a reaction—a slight turn of Orion’s head, though he still didn’t look directly at Dante. His profile showed flushed skin and a tightly clenched jaw.
“I accessed some research files last night,” Dante continued, pulling the data drive from his pocket. “You’ve been designated as Test Subject Number One.”
Orion’s remained silent. Dante could see the visible effort it took to maintain even that limited control.
“They’re planning to use forced bonding technology on you.” Dante kept his voice level, clinical, even as the air in the room grew thick enough to cut with a knife. “Two-part injection that makes the test subject believe their compliance is a genuine choice. Permanent personality restructuring with full memory retention.”
Still nothing. No questions, no outrage, no fear. Just rigid silence and enough pheromones to make Dante’s head spin. Orion shifted on the bed, increasing the distance between them by a few inches—a barely perceptible movement that nonetheless communicated volumes.
“It’s worse than anything Gensyn does because the subjects think their feelings are real. They remember everything that happened to them, but they’re grateful for it. They love their captors and never understand that those emotions were chemically induced.”
“Thank you for the information,” Orion said, his voice flat. “You can leave now.”
Dante stared at the back of Orion’s head, taken aback by the dismissal. He expected questions, resistance, maybe even panic. Not this calm acceptance and immediate dismissal.
“Did you hear what I just told you? They’re going to chemically lobotomize you into grateful compliance.”
“I heard you.” The words came through clenched teeth.
“And that’s it? That’s your entire response?”
“What response did you want? Hysteria? Gratitude for the warning?” Orion’s voice carried bitter exhaustion. “You’ve told me. Now leave.”
The dismissal hit wrong, sparking irritation that Dante did not expect to feel. He risked exposure to gather this intelligence, risked his cover to warn Orion, and this was the reaction he got? Professional indifference would have been insulting enough, but this felt like being dismissed by someone who could barely form coherent sentences.
Which, given the pheromonal soup he was breathing, might be the case.
“Look at me,” he said, moving around the bed.
“No.” The single word was sharp, almost panicked. Orion shifted again, maintaining the maximum possible distance between them in the confined space.
“Look at me, Orion.”
“I said no. Just... just go away.” Orion’s hand shot out in a warding gesture, fingers trembling in the harsh fluorescent light. “We’re done here.”
The words came out strained, almost desperate, and something about that raw edge cut through Dante’s frustration. This wasn’t indifference—it was self-preservation. Orion was trying to get rid of him, not because he didn’t care about the information, but because he couldn’t handle Dante’s presence.
Dante moved to where he could see Orion’s profile and felt his breath catch.
Christ. No wonder he wants me gone.
Orion was a complete disaster—sweating, pupils dilated, skin flushed with heat that had nothing to do with the temperature. He was trembling with the effort of staying still, his breathing controlled in a way that suggested he was fighting his body’s responses with every ounce of willpower he possessed.
Dante felt something shift in his chest, but it was overshadowed by the realization that his rut suppressants were failing. The ones that kept him steady and controlled for years were dissolving under the assault of Orion’s scent.
“Is this your heat?” he asked, his voice rougher than he intended.
“No.” Orion’s laugh was bitter, strained. “Not yet.”
Not yet. Dante stared at him, processing what that meant. What on earth did his full heats look like?
This is the worst pre-heat I’ve ever seen, he thought, watching Orion tremble with the effort of staying still. But then again, I’ve never seen a twenty-six-year-old unclaimed virgin. It must be a pre-heat from hell.
And Christ help him, he kind of wanted to get burned.
Chapter fifteen
Hands-On Management
Orion
Orion heard Dante move toward the door and felt a mix of relief and desperate panic. Relief because the man’s presence was making everything worse and made his skin feel too tight. Panic because some primal part of his brain was screaming that letting the Alpha leave was the worst possible decision.
Stop. Stop thinking about it.
But he couldn’t. The pre-heat was making every memory into a vivid fantasy, every fantasy into desperate need. His body was betraying him at the worst possible time, when he needed to be thinking about forced bonding technology and escape plans.
Instead, all he could think about was how good it felt to stop fighting for those few minutes. How perfectly Dante’s hands had fit around his wrists, how the weight of him made Orion feel small and protected instead of trapped.
Protected. God, he was losing his mind.
The sound of footsteps stopped, and Orion realized Dante hadn’t left.
“You need to go,” Orion said without looking up. “Before Leo gets back.”
“If you’re still acting like a hostile little brat when Leo returns, it’s going to reflect poorly on both of us,” Dante said, his voice closer than it should have been. “He’ll think my consultation methods aren’t working.”
“Your consultation methods,” Orion repeated bitterly. “Right.”
“More importantly, he’ll think you’re not responding to behavioral modification, which means he’ll be more open to Morrison’s timeline acceleration.”
That got Orion’s attention. He looked up to find Dante leaning against the wall, arms crossed, studying him with an expression that was part concern and part predatory interest.
“You can’t think straight like this,” Dante continued. “How are you supposed to play the compliant pet when you can barely function?”
“I’ll manage.”
“No, you won’t. Look at yourself.” Dante pushed away from the wall, moving closer. “You’re a mess. Leo’s going to take one look at you and know something’s wrong.”
Orion wanted to argue, but he could feel the truth of it. His skin was fever-hot, his breathing uneven, and every muscle in his body was coiled with tension he couldn’t release. Leo would notice.
“What do you suggest?” he asked through gritted teeth.
“Let me take the edge off.” Dante was close enough now that Orion could smell him.
“No.”
“Orion...” Dante crouched down in front of the bed, bringing himself to eye level. “Stop being a brat and let me help you.”
Orion swung wildly, his fist connecting with Dante’s jaw in a satisfying crack. The Alpha didn’t flinch, his eyes flashing with something dangerous as he wiped a small smearing of blood from his tongue with his thumb.
“Good,” Dante mused. He brought his bloodied thumb to Orion’s mouth, pressing against his lips. “Taste what you did.”
Orion turned his head away, but Dante grabbed his hair and forced him back. The metallic tang of blood filled his mouth as Dante pushed his thumb past Orion’s lips. “Taste it,” Dante ordered.
Orion’s cheeks hollowed instinctively, his tongue moving against the digit despite himself. The taste of copper and salt spread across his tongue, somehow making everything worse—more immediate, more real. His pulse pounded in his ears as heat surged through him, a primal response to blood and domination he’d never experienced before.
Dante’s eyes darkened with satisfaction as he pulled his thumb free with a wet pop.
“Such a good boy when you want to be,” Dante murmured, watching as Orion swallowed convulsively. “But we both know you don’t want to be good, do you?”
Why did I do that?
Before Orion could respond, Dante was moving, shoving him back onto the bed. Orion landed hard, the impact knocking the breath from his lungs. He tried to roll away, but Dante’s weight came down on top of him, pinning him effortlessly.
The Alpha’s thigh pressed between Orion’s legs, grinding against the ache that had been driving him mad for hours. Orion gasped, trying to buck him off, but Dante’s grip in his hair kept him still.
“Get away from me,” Orion snapped, the words lacking conviction even to his own ears.
“You’re dripping,” Dante groaned, his hips rolling in a slow, deliberate grind that made Orion’s vision blur at the edges. “I can smell how much you want this.”
“Shut up!” Orion’s breath came in sharp gasps as Dante’s free hand slid down his chest, fingers teasing at his nipple through the thin fabric of his shirt. His body arched into the contact before his mind could tell it to pull away.
Dante’s fingers moved further down and traced the outline of Orion’s erection through his pants, pressing just enough to make Orion’s hips buck. “You’re hard for me, even when you’re trying to break my face.”
“Get fucked, Dante,” Orion gasped. He pulled his knee back and slammed his heel into Dante’s shoulder, trying to knock him back. Dante absorbed the blow with a grunt and a smile before leaning into the limb, pressing Orion’s leg back until it felt like the tendons in his hip would pop.
Dante’s free hand slid lower, fingers teasing at the crease of Orion’s thigh. “Even now, still denying this,” he murmured, palming the slick wet spot forming on the seat of Orion’s pants.
The pressure there, so close to where no one had ever touched him, made Orion’s entire body lock up. His breath came in sharp, uneven bursts as Dante’s thumb circled the sensitive skin through the fabric, not pushing in, just teasing.
“Don’t—” The word sounded broken, desperate. Orion didn’t even know what he was asking for anymore—don’t touch me there or don’t stop?
“Just admit you need this,” Dante’s voice was a dark whisper against his ear. His thumb pressed harder, making Orion gasp. “You need my mouth, my teeth, my hands, my cock. You need me.”
Orion’s face burned with humiliation. He tried to shake his head, but Dante’s grip in his hair kept him still. Words failed him, his usually sharp mind unable to form coherent thoughts through the flood of sensation.
“Fuck you,” Orion snarled, thrashing against the hold. “I don’t need anything from you, you corporate piece of shit.”
“No?” Dante licked the shell of his ear as he used his leverage to work Orion’s pants down to his thighs. “Then explain this.”
Orion felt tears of rage and humiliation prick at his eyes as cool air hit his heated skin. He was exposed, hard and wet and trembling, and Dante was looking at him like he was something to be devoured. The vulnerability was unbearable, made worse by his body’s obvious response. He spent years making sure no one ever saw him like this—weak, needy, at the mercy of his biology.
