The Sterling Acquisition : A Steamy MM Alpha/Omega Corporate Dystopia Romance (Manufactured Mates Book 1), page 16
Instead, he decided on something different.
“Kiss me,” he said.
Orion blinked, taken aback by the request. “What?”
“You heard me. Kiss me.”
“No.” The response was automatic, defensive.
Dante feigned a pout. “I’ve had your delicious cock in my mouth, and you won’t give me a kiss?”
The crude reminder made Orion flush deeper, his scent spiking with embarrassment and arousal. “That’s different.”
“How?”
“It just is.”
“Scared?” Dante’s voice was teasing, challenging.
“Of kissing you? Hardly. I just don’t want my first kiss to be with some Gensyn corporate thug.”
The words hit Dante in his chest. First kiss. He was a virgin in every sense, then—not just sexually, but in all the small intimacies that most people took for granted. The revelation made something possessive and protective in equal measure bubble up like an ache.
“Your first kiss,” he repeated.
“Don’t make it weird,” Orion snapped, but Dante could see the vulnerability in his eyes, the way he was trying to hide behind aggression.
“Not weird. Just...” Dante studied his face, seeing him differently now. “Important.”
“It’s not important. It’s just a kiss.”
“No,” Dante said firmly. “It’s not just anything. Not when it’s your first.”
He could see Orion processing that response, not expecting the sudden shift to gentleness. “It’s not.”
“Then prove it.” Dante waited.
Orion stared up at him for a long moment, looking torn between stubbornness and curiosity. Finally, with obvious reluctance and a hint of nervousness he was trying to hide, he lifted his head.
Dante met his lips and felt something shift, not just between them, but like the very foundations of the Earth clicked into place. The kiss started hesitant, inexperienced—the careful, uncertain touch of someone who’d never done this before. Orion made a small sound of surprise, like a sigh against Dante’s lips, and suddenly he was pressing closer, his lips parting quickly, like he was trying to figure out what to do with his mouth.
Dante expected resistance, maybe a quick, defiant peck. He hadn’t expected this. Orion kissed like he was trying to memorize the sensation with small, confused sounds he made as he discovered what kissing felt like. His hands twisted in Dante’s shirt like he was afraid of drowning.
It was unpolished, unpracticed, and absolutely devastating.
When they broke apart, Orion looked undone—pupils blown wide, lips swollen, breathing uneven. There was wonder in his expression, mixed with something that might have been panic. His entire worldview seemed to be recalibrating.
“That was...” Orion started, then stopped, struggling to process what had just happened. His fingers touched his lips in disbelief, as if trying to capture the sensation before it faded. The gesture carried a vulnerability that all his previous defiance had never revealed—a glimpse of the person beneath the fighter.
“What have you done to me?” The question was soft, more to himself than to Dante, carrying equal parts accusation and wonder.
“Your first,” Dante said softly, unable to keep the satisfaction out of his voice. “And you were perfect.”
Fear flickered across Orion’s expression—not fear of Dante, but of something deeper. For some reason, despite that flicker, Orion’s response was to try to pull him down for another kiss,
Dante pulled back with a knowing smile, watching the conflict play out across Orion’s face. “Greedy,” he observed, enjoying the frustrated sound Orion made. “Already addicted?”
“Shut up,” Orion breathed, but there was no real heat in it—just confusion and want.
“We have planning to finish,” Dante said, straightening his clothes though his hands weren’t steady. “And you need to save some energy for being Leo’s perfect pet tonight.”
“Bastard,” Orion said, but his voice was soft, distracted. He was touching his own lips again with wondering fingers, like he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.
“Remember that feeling,” Dante said, adopting his professional demeanor again. “Your first kiss. Remember how it felt, how much you wanted more. It’ll give you something to think about while you’re playing compliant for Leo.”
The sound of Leo’s footsteps in the hallway made them both freeze. Orion quickly grabbed his book while Dante settled back into the chair, both of them trying to look like they’d been focused on psychological consultation rather than Dante claiming Orion’s first kiss like a conquering flag.
When Leo knocked and entered, he found them in their respective positions—Dante looking professionally composed despite the triumph singing in his veins, Orion appearing focused on his book despite the obvious flush on his cheeks and the way he kept touching his lips.
“How did the session go?” Leo asked hopefully.
“Very productive,” Dante replied, noting how Orion seemed dazed, distracted. “We’re making excellent progress on mapping his psychological responses to new stimuli.”
“That’s wonderful to hear. The improvement in his behavior has been remarkable.”
“I think we’ll see continued progress over the next few days,” Dante said, standing to leave. “The intensive consultation approach seems to be what he needed.”
As he prepared to go, Dante caught Orion’s eye one last time. The defiance was still there, but now it was mixed with confusion, wonder, and unmistakable want.
Good. Let him process that. Let him realize that his first kiss belongs to me now, and wonder what other firsts he might be willing to let me claim.
Two more days until the extraction.
The extraction plan depended on clear heads and perfect timing. But Dante had just claimed Orion’s first kiss, awakening needs that would make both increasingly scarce. As he left the apartment, the taste of Orion still on his lips, Dante wondered which would prove more dangerous to their survival—Morrison’s project or the hunger they’d just unleashed in each other. Either way, the clock was ticking.
Chapter eighteen
Unraveling
Orion
Orion closed the pre-Adjustment economics textbook with more force than necessary, the sound echoing through Leo’s living room like a gunshot. The harsh corporate lighting emphasized the institutional beige walls and mass-produced furniture that defined SVI’s idea of “luxury” housing. The kitchen still smelled faintly of burned sauce and disappointment.
“Good book?” Leo asked from his position at the dining table, not looking up from the papers he’d been reviewing for the past hour. His words carried the careful pronunciation of someone who’d been drinking steadily since coming home from work. The wine bottle beside him went from full to half-empty, the level dropping with each passing hour.
“Educational,” Orion replied, setting the book aside and reaching for another from the stack Leo had begrudgingly provided. Something about corporate law that would probably be just as depressing as the economics text. The books’ spines were pristine—clearly for display rather than regular reading. Another prop in Leo’s attempt to create the illusion of normality.
The domesticity of it all made his skin crawl. Him reading quietly while Leo worked, like they were some functional couple instead of captor and captive. The cleaning he’d done earlier left him feeling hollow and strange—a reminder that his contract had originally been for domestic servitude with claiming rights, not full ownership.
A distinction that mattered less and less each day.
He tugged at the collar of his shirt, making sure it covered the mark Dante left on his collarbone. The bruise was fading but still visible, a dark reminder of teeth and surrender that made something twist in his stomach every time he thought about it. His fingers traced the outline through the fabric, the slight tenderness a physical memory of the moment Dante’s control fractured.
And he couldn’t stop thinking about that fucking kiss. About the way Dante looked at him afterward, like he claimed something precious. That was somehow more unsettling than the bite mark—the gentleness more dangerous than the violence. Physical dominance was something Orion understood and could fight against. But the way his heart raced when Dante’s lips touched his, the breathless confusion afterward... that was unfamiliar territory. It was a weakness he couldn’t afford.
The suppressants were wearing off. He could feel it in the energy building beneath his muscles, the way his senses seemed unnaturally sharp. The fabric of his shirt felt too rough against his sensitive skin. The air in the apartment seemed too thick, too warm, despite the climate control keeping everything at a precise 72 degrees.
Every few minutes, Orion could feel Leo’s eyes on him, the weight of those glances growing heavier each time.
“I think I’ll go to bed,” Orion said, closing the corporate law book. He managed maybe ten pages, his mind too restless to focus on dry legal language. He shifted position, acutely aware of how Leo’s attention tracked the movement.
“Already?” Leo looked up, his expression unfocused. The wine had left a flush across his cheeks and a glassy quality to his eyes. “It’s not that late.”
“Long day.” Orion stood, noting the way Leo’s gaze tracked his movement with uncomfortable intensity. “All that cleaning.”
Leo’s smile was loose, pleased. “You did a good job today. Very... thorough.”
The praise made Orion’s teeth clench, but he managed to keep his expression neutral. His jaw ached with the effort of maintaining the mask of compliance. “Thank you.”
“And the cooking attempt was sweet, even if it didn’t work out.” Leo’s voice carried genuine warmth, the kind that made Orion feel worse than outright cruelty would have. The sincerity in his tone made the situation more twisted—Leo believed they were making progress toward some warped version of domestic harmony. “It’s nice, having you take an interest in... domestic things.”
Domestic things. Like he was a pet learning new tricks. Like his participation in his own captivity was something to be celebrated.
“I’m still learning,” Orion said, each word chosen to maintain the fragile pretense. His hands curled into fists at his sides, then deliberately relaxed. Three months ago, he would have thrown that sentiment back in Leo’s face with vicious satisfaction and probably a plate. Now he stood docilely accepting praise for burning dinner. How far he’d fallen in the name of strategic compliance.
“Of course. These things take time.” Leo took another sip from his wine glass, his movements getting looser. The artificial light caught the deep burgundy liquid, making it look almost black. “Dante says the psychological adjustment period can be complicated.”
There it was. Dante’s name dropped into the conversation like a stone into still water. The ripples of tension spread instantly, invisible but unmistakable. Orion felt his pulse quicken, the sound suddenly loud in his own ears.
“He’s been very helpful,” Orion replied, proud that his voice remained steady despite the immediate tightness in his chest. His body’s reaction to just hearing Dante’s name was becoming a liability—a dangerous tell he couldn’t seem to control.
“Has he?” Leo’s tone was casual, but something in his expression sharpened. The wine-induced haziness temporarily receded, replaced by focused interest. “What exactly are his techniques? His methods seem so effective.”
Orion felt ice settle in his stomach, a stark contrast to the heat building beneath his skin. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“The consultation sessions. What does he do during those private assessments?” Leo leaned back in his chair, wine making him more direct than usual. The chair creaked under his shifting weight. “I’m curious about Gensyn’s psychological approaches.”
“He asks questions. About my motivations, my resistance patterns.” Orion kept his voice clinical, professional while his mind raced through the potential dangers of this line of questioning. “Psychological mapping, he calls it.”
“Just questions?”
“Mostly.”
“Hmm.” Leo took another drink, his gaze becoming more focused despite the alcohol. The wine glass made a too-loud sound when he set it back on the table. “It’s interesting how much you’ve changed since he started working with you. More... manageable. More willing to engage in domestic activities.”
“The sessions help me understand my situation better.” Orion could hear the hollowness in his own words, the rehearsed quality of a line delivered too many times under his breath in his cage. The script they’d been working from was starting to tear at the edges.
“I’m sure they do.” Leo’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “How do you feel about Dante? Personally, I mean.”
A bead of sweat formed at his hairline, threatening to betray his composure. “He’s competent. Professional.”
“Professional,” Leo repeated the word like he was tasting it, rolling it around his mouth like the wine he’d been drinking. “I’ve been wondering about how professional he really is.”
Orion could feel the conversation shifting into dangerous territory. Leo might be drunk, but he wasn’t stupid. Something had triggered his suspicion, and now he was probing for answers with the kind of determined focus that alcohol sometimes intensified rather than dulled.
“I should really get some sleep,” Orion said, moving toward the door. The few steps to escape felt like miles as Leo’s attention narrowed on him.
“You smell like him.”
The words stopped Orion cold. He turned slowly. “What?”
“You smell like another Alpha. Not just during the consultation sessions—all the time now. More and more each day.” Leo stood, his movements careful but deliberate. The chair scraped against the floor as he pushed it back. “Why is that, do you think?”
Orion’s mind raced through possible explanations, none of them good. The failing suppressants left him vulnerable, his body reacting in ways he couldn’t control. He could feel sweat gathering at the small of his back. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Don’t you?” Leo moved closer, and Orion could smell the wine on his breath mixed with something that might have been suspicion. “Because I’ve been wondering about a lot of things lately. About why you’re suddenly so cooperative. About why your scent changes after every session with Dante. About why there was a Gensyn blanket stuffed beneath your pillow. And about why you keep touching your neck like you’re hiding something.”
Fuck. Orion’s hand moved to his collar again, and Leo’s eyes tracked the motion with predatory interest. His body kept betraying him with these small, involuntary gestures that revealed everything he was trying to hide.
“I don’t—”
“Show me.”
“What?”
“Your neck. Show me what you’re hiding.” Leo’s voice was cold, authoritative. The pleasant facade had dropped, revealing the possessive Alpha underneath that liked to deliver SVI asset management lessons with his fists. “Now.”
Orion backed toward the door to his quarters. The apartment felt impossibly large, the distance to safety expanding with each step backward. “There’s nothing to show.”
“Then you won’t mind proving it.” Leo stood between him and the exit, his demeanor shifting from drunk and loose to something more dangerous. “Take off your shirt.”
“No.”
“It wasn’t a request.” Leo’s smile was unpleasant. “You’re still my property, Orion. Contracted to me for another three years. If I want to inspect what belongs to me, that’s my right.”
Property. Not a person—an asset, a possession, something purchased and owned. His hands clenched into fists, nails digging into his palms hard enough to leave crescent marks. The pain helped him focus past the growing heat and rising panic.
“I’m going to bed,” he said firmly, trying to step around Leo. The sudden movement made his head spin, his balance affected by the suppressants’ decreasing effectiveness.
Leo’s hand shot out, catching his wrist with enough force to make him gasp. The contact burned. “You’re going to answer my questions. Starting with why you’re nesting with another Alpha’s things and ending with what the fuck Dante has been doing to you during those private sessions.”
Orion tried to pull away, but Leo’s grip tightened, fingers digging into the tendons of his wrist. “Let go of me.”
“Not until you tell me the truth.” Leo’s other hand moved toward Orion’s collar. His fingers brushed against Orion’s throat, the touch making his skin crawl with revulsion. “What has that Gensyn bastard been—”
Orion’s free hand came up fast, connecting with Leo’s jaw in a solid punch that sent the man stumbling backward. The impact jarred up Orion’s arm, the satisfying shock of it momentarily clearing his head. Leo released his wrist, more from surprise than pain, and Orion used the opening to bolt for his room.
He barely made it through the door before Leo’s voice followed him, cold and furious. The sound echoed through the apartment, bouncing off the walls.
“I know something’s going on!” Leo shouted. “I know he’s been touching you! And when I figure out what kind of game you two are playing, there’s going to be consequences!”
Orion slammed the door and heard the locks engage—the familiar mechanical click that had been both prison and protection for the past year. His hands shook with adrenaline and fear as he pressed his back against the door, listening to Leo’s continued threats from the other side. The cool surface provided momentary relief against his overheating skin.
“You think I’m stupid? You think I don’t notice the way you look at him? The way you smell like sex and secrets every time he leaves?” Leo’s voice was getting louder, more unhinged. The control he normally maintained for appearances was gone, eroded by wine and jealousy. “I paid 2.7 million for you! You belong to me!”
The words devolved into incoherent shouting, punctuated by the sound of something being thrown against a wall—glass shattering, probably the wine bottle. Leo was having a complete breakdown, and Orion was trapped in his room with nowhere to run.
“Kiss me,” he said.
Orion blinked, taken aback by the request. “What?”
“You heard me. Kiss me.”
“No.” The response was automatic, defensive.
Dante feigned a pout. “I’ve had your delicious cock in my mouth, and you won’t give me a kiss?”
The crude reminder made Orion flush deeper, his scent spiking with embarrassment and arousal. “That’s different.”
“How?”
“It just is.”
“Scared?” Dante’s voice was teasing, challenging.
“Of kissing you? Hardly. I just don’t want my first kiss to be with some Gensyn corporate thug.”
The words hit Dante in his chest. First kiss. He was a virgin in every sense, then—not just sexually, but in all the small intimacies that most people took for granted. The revelation made something possessive and protective in equal measure bubble up like an ache.
“Your first kiss,” he repeated.
“Don’t make it weird,” Orion snapped, but Dante could see the vulnerability in his eyes, the way he was trying to hide behind aggression.
“Not weird. Just...” Dante studied his face, seeing him differently now. “Important.”
“It’s not important. It’s just a kiss.”
“No,” Dante said firmly. “It’s not just anything. Not when it’s your first.”
He could see Orion processing that response, not expecting the sudden shift to gentleness. “It’s not.”
“Then prove it.” Dante waited.
Orion stared up at him for a long moment, looking torn between stubbornness and curiosity. Finally, with obvious reluctance and a hint of nervousness he was trying to hide, he lifted his head.
Dante met his lips and felt something shift, not just between them, but like the very foundations of the Earth clicked into place. The kiss started hesitant, inexperienced—the careful, uncertain touch of someone who’d never done this before. Orion made a small sound of surprise, like a sigh against Dante’s lips, and suddenly he was pressing closer, his lips parting quickly, like he was trying to figure out what to do with his mouth.
Dante expected resistance, maybe a quick, defiant peck. He hadn’t expected this. Orion kissed like he was trying to memorize the sensation with small, confused sounds he made as he discovered what kissing felt like. His hands twisted in Dante’s shirt like he was afraid of drowning.
It was unpolished, unpracticed, and absolutely devastating.
When they broke apart, Orion looked undone—pupils blown wide, lips swollen, breathing uneven. There was wonder in his expression, mixed with something that might have been panic. His entire worldview seemed to be recalibrating.
“That was...” Orion started, then stopped, struggling to process what had just happened. His fingers touched his lips in disbelief, as if trying to capture the sensation before it faded. The gesture carried a vulnerability that all his previous defiance had never revealed—a glimpse of the person beneath the fighter.
“What have you done to me?” The question was soft, more to himself than to Dante, carrying equal parts accusation and wonder.
“Your first,” Dante said softly, unable to keep the satisfaction out of his voice. “And you were perfect.”
Fear flickered across Orion’s expression—not fear of Dante, but of something deeper. For some reason, despite that flicker, Orion’s response was to try to pull him down for another kiss,
Dante pulled back with a knowing smile, watching the conflict play out across Orion’s face. “Greedy,” he observed, enjoying the frustrated sound Orion made. “Already addicted?”
“Shut up,” Orion breathed, but there was no real heat in it—just confusion and want.
“We have planning to finish,” Dante said, straightening his clothes though his hands weren’t steady. “And you need to save some energy for being Leo’s perfect pet tonight.”
“Bastard,” Orion said, but his voice was soft, distracted. He was touching his own lips again with wondering fingers, like he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.
“Remember that feeling,” Dante said, adopting his professional demeanor again. “Your first kiss. Remember how it felt, how much you wanted more. It’ll give you something to think about while you’re playing compliant for Leo.”
The sound of Leo’s footsteps in the hallway made them both freeze. Orion quickly grabbed his book while Dante settled back into the chair, both of them trying to look like they’d been focused on psychological consultation rather than Dante claiming Orion’s first kiss like a conquering flag.
When Leo knocked and entered, he found them in their respective positions—Dante looking professionally composed despite the triumph singing in his veins, Orion appearing focused on his book despite the obvious flush on his cheeks and the way he kept touching his lips.
“How did the session go?” Leo asked hopefully.
“Very productive,” Dante replied, noting how Orion seemed dazed, distracted. “We’re making excellent progress on mapping his psychological responses to new stimuli.”
“That’s wonderful to hear. The improvement in his behavior has been remarkable.”
“I think we’ll see continued progress over the next few days,” Dante said, standing to leave. “The intensive consultation approach seems to be what he needed.”
As he prepared to go, Dante caught Orion’s eye one last time. The defiance was still there, but now it was mixed with confusion, wonder, and unmistakable want.
Good. Let him process that. Let him realize that his first kiss belongs to me now, and wonder what other firsts he might be willing to let me claim.
Two more days until the extraction.
The extraction plan depended on clear heads and perfect timing. But Dante had just claimed Orion’s first kiss, awakening needs that would make both increasingly scarce. As he left the apartment, the taste of Orion still on his lips, Dante wondered which would prove more dangerous to their survival—Morrison’s project or the hunger they’d just unleashed in each other. Either way, the clock was ticking.
Chapter eighteen
Unraveling
Orion
Orion closed the pre-Adjustment economics textbook with more force than necessary, the sound echoing through Leo’s living room like a gunshot. The harsh corporate lighting emphasized the institutional beige walls and mass-produced furniture that defined SVI’s idea of “luxury” housing. The kitchen still smelled faintly of burned sauce and disappointment.
“Good book?” Leo asked from his position at the dining table, not looking up from the papers he’d been reviewing for the past hour. His words carried the careful pronunciation of someone who’d been drinking steadily since coming home from work. The wine bottle beside him went from full to half-empty, the level dropping with each passing hour.
“Educational,” Orion replied, setting the book aside and reaching for another from the stack Leo had begrudgingly provided. Something about corporate law that would probably be just as depressing as the economics text. The books’ spines were pristine—clearly for display rather than regular reading. Another prop in Leo’s attempt to create the illusion of normality.
The domesticity of it all made his skin crawl. Him reading quietly while Leo worked, like they were some functional couple instead of captor and captive. The cleaning he’d done earlier left him feeling hollow and strange—a reminder that his contract had originally been for domestic servitude with claiming rights, not full ownership.
A distinction that mattered less and less each day.
He tugged at the collar of his shirt, making sure it covered the mark Dante left on his collarbone. The bruise was fading but still visible, a dark reminder of teeth and surrender that made something twist in his stomach every time he thought about it. His fingers traced the outline through the fabric, the slight tenderness a physical memory of the moment Dante’s control fractured.
And he couldn’t stop thinking about that fucking kiss. About the way Dante looked at him afterward, like he claimed something precious. That was somehow more unsettling than the bite mark—the gentleness more dangerous than the violence. Physical dominance was something Orion understood and could fight against. But the way his heart raced when Dante’s lips touched his, the breathless confusion afterward... that was unfamiliar territory. It was a weakness he couldn’t afford.
The suppressants were wearing off. He could feel it in the energy building beneath his muscles, the way his senses seemed unnaturally sharp. The fabric of his shirt felt too rough against his sensitive skin. The air in the apartment seemed too thick, too warm, despite the climate control keeping everything at a precise 72 degrees.
Every few minutes, Orion could feel Leo’s eyes on him, the weight of those glances growing heavier each time.
“I think I’ll go to bed,” Orion said, closing the corporate law book. He managed maybe ten pages, his mind too restless to focus on dry legal language. He shifted position, acutely aware of how Leo’s attention tracked the movement.
“Already?” Leo looked up, his expression unfocused. The wine had left a flush across his cheeks and a glassy quality to his eyes. “It’s not that late.”
“Long day.” Orion stood, noting the way Leo’s gaze tracked his movement with uncomfortable intensity. “All that cleaning.”
Leo’s smile was loose, pleased. “You did a good job today. Very... thorough.”
The praise made Orion’s teeth clench, but he managed to keep his expression neutral. His jaw ached with the effort of maintaining the mask of compliance. “Thank you.”
“And the cooking attempt was sweet, even if it didn’t work out.” Leo’s voice carried genuine warmth, the kind that made Orion feel worse than outright cruelty would have. The sincerity in his tone made the situation more twisted—Leo believed they were making progress toward some warped version of domestic harmony. “It’s nice, having you take an interest in... domestic things.”
Domestic things. Like he was a pet learning new tricks. Like his participation in his own captivity was something to be celebrated.
“I’m still learning,” Orion said, each word chosen to maintain the fragile pretense. His hands curled into fists at his sides, then deliberately relaxed. Three months ago, he would have thrown that sentiment back in Leo’s face with vicious satisfaction and probably a plate. Now he stood docilely accepting praise for burning dinner. How far he’d fallen in the name of strategic compliance.
“Of course. These things take time.” Leo took another sip from his wine glass, his movements getting looser. The artificial light caught the deep burgundy liquid, making it look almost black. “Dante says the psychological adjustment period can be complicated.”
There it was. Dante’s name dropped into the conversation like a stone into still water. The ripples of tension spread instantly, invisible but unmistakable. Orion felt his pulse quicken, the sound suddenly loud in his own ears.
“He’s been very helpful,” Orion replied, proud that his voice remained steady despite the immediate tightness in his chest. His body’s reaction to just hearing Dante’s name was becoming a liability—a dangerous tell he couldn’t seem to control.
“Has he?” Leo’s tone was casual, but something in his expression sharpened. The wine-induced haziness temporarily receded, replaced by focused interest. “What exactly are his techniques? His methods seem so effective.”
Orion felt ice settle in his stomach, a stark contrast to the heat building beneath his skin. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“The consultation sessions. What does he do during those private assessments?” Leo leaned back in his chair, wine making him more direct than usual. The chair creaked under his shifting weight. “I’m curious about Gensyn’s psychological approaches.”
“He asks questions. About my motivations, my resistance patterns.” Orion kept his voice clinical, professional while his mind raced through the potential dangers of this line of questioning. “Psychological mapping, he calls it.”
“Just questions?”
“Mostly.”
“Hmm.” Leo took another drink, his gaze becoming more focused despite the alcohol. The wine glass made a too-loud sound when he set it back on the table. “It’s interesting how much you’ve changed since he started working with you. More... manageable. More willing to engage in domestic activities.”
“The sessions help me understand my situation better.” Orion could hear the hollowness in his own words, the rehearsed quality of a line delivered too many times under his breath in his cage. The script they’d been working from was starting to tear at the edges.
“I’m sure they do.” Leo’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “How do you feel about Dante? Personally, I mean.”
A bead of sweat formed at his hairline, threatening to betray his composure. “He’s competent. Professional.”
“Professional,” Leo repeated the word like he was tasting it, rolling it around his mouth like the wine he’d been drinking. “I’ve been wondering about how professional he really is.”
Orion could feel the conversation shifting into dangerous territory. Leo might be drunk, but he wasn’t stupid. Something had triggered his suspicion, and now he was probing for answers with the kind of determined focus that alcohol sometimes intensified rather than dulled.
“I should really get some sleep,” Orion said, moving toward the door. The few steps to escape felt like miles as Leo’s attention narrowed on him.
“You smell like him.”
The words stopped Orion cold. He turned slowly. “What?”
“You smell like another Alpha. Not just during the consultation sessions—all the time now. More and more each day.” Leo stood, his movements careful but deliberate. The chair scraped against the floor as he pushed it back. “Why is that, do you think?”
Orion’s mind raced through possible explanations, none of them good. The failing suppressants left him vulnerable, his body reacting in ways he couldn’t control. He could feel sweat gathering at the small of his back. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Don’t you?” Leo moved closer, and Orion could smell the wine on his breath mixed with something that might have been suspicion. “Because I’ve been wondering about a lot of things lately. About why you’re suddenly so cooperative. About why your scent changes after every session with Dante. About why there was a Gensyn blanket stuffed beneath your pillow. And about why you keep touching your neck like you’re hiding something.”
Fuck. Orion’s hand moved to his collar again, and Leo’s eyes tracked the motion with predatory interest. His body kept betraying him with these small, involuntary gestures that revealed everything he was trying to hide.
“I don’t—”
“Show me.”
“What?”
“Your neck. Show me what you’re hiding.” Leo’s voice was cold, authoritative. The pleasant facade had dropped, revealing the possessive Alpha underneath that liked to deliver SVI asset management lessons with his fists. “Now.”
Orion backed toward the door to his quarters. The apartment felt impossibly large, the distance to safety expanding with each step backward. “There’s nothing to show.”
“Then you won’t mind proving it.” Leo stood between him and the exit, his demeanor shifting from drunk and loose to something more dangerous. “Take off your shirt.”
“No.”
“It wasn’t a request.” Leo’s smile was unpleasant. “You’re still my property, Orion. Contracted to me for another three years. If I want to inspect what belongs to me, that’s my right.”
Property. Not a person—an asset, a possession, something purchased and owned. His hands clenched into fists, nails digging into his palms hard enough to leave crescent marks. The pain helped him focus past the growing heat and rising panic.
“I’m going to bed,” he said firmly, trying to step around Leo. The sudden movement made his head spin, his balance affected by the suppressants’ decreasing effectiveness.
Leo’s hand shot out, catching his wrist with enough force to make him gasp. The contact burned. “You’re going to answer my questions. Starting with why you’re nesting with another Alpha’s things and ending with what the fuck Dante has been doing to you during those private sessions.”
Orion tried to pull away, but Leo’s grip tightened, fingers digging into the tendons of his wrist. “Let go of me.”
“Not until you tell me the truth.” Leo’s other hand moved toward Orion’s collar. His fingers brushed against Orion’s throat, the touch making his skin crawl with revulsion. “What has that Gensyn bastard been—”
Orion’s free hand came up fast, connecting with Leo’s jaw in a solid punch that sent the man stumbling backward. The impact jarred up Orion’s arm, the satisfying shock of it momentarily clearing his head. Leo released his wrist, more from surprise than pain, and Orion used the opening to bolt for his room.
He barely made it through the door before Leo’s voice followed him, cold and furious. The sound echoed through the apartment, bouncing off the walls.
“I know something’s going on!” Leo shouted. “I know he’s been touching you! And when I figure out what kind of game you two are playing, there’s going to be consequences!”
Orion slammed the door and heard the locks engage—the familiar mechanical click that had been both prison and protection for the past year. His hands shook with adrenaline and fear as he pressed his back against the door, listening to Leo’s continued threats from the other side. The cool surface provided momentary relief against his overheating skin.
“You think I’m stupid? You think I don’t notice the way you look at him? The way you smell like sex and secrets every time he leaves?” Leo’s voice was getting louder, more unhinged. The control he normally maintained for appearances was gone, eroded by wine and jealousy. “I paid 2.7 million for you! You belong to me!”
The words devolved into incoherent shouting, punctuated by the sound of something being thrown against a wall—glass shattering, probably the wine bottle. Leo was having a complete breakdown, and Orion was trapped in his room with nowhere to run.
