The Sterling Acquisition : A Steamy MM Alpha/Omega Corporate Dystopia Romance (Manufactured Mates Book 1), page 5
“I needed to—what?” Confusion replaced some of the wariness in Orion’s expression.
“Test me. To see what I’d do when you fought back. Whether I’d revert to Leo’s methods the moment you showed resistance.” Dante’s smile was sharp but not unkind. “Very strategic. I approve.”
Orion stared at him, his eyes wide. His hands slowly unclenched, and he ran one through his hair in a gesture that seemed unconscious—almost vulnerable. His posture shifted subtly, not in submission exactly, but a recalibration of the power dynamic between them.
When he spoke, his voice was rough with barely contained fury, “Well, at least you’re honest about it.”
The smile that followed was all sharp edges and lethal beauty, and Dante realized with crystalline clarity that he was in far more danger than he’d ever imagined. Not from Orion’s teeth or fists or the possibility of physical violence.
But from the way those amber eyes were looking at him like Dante might be the first person in a year to see him as something other than a problem to be solved.
And from the way that look made him want to throw his entire mission plan out the window, risk Gensyn’s wrath, and potentially compromise months of intelligence work—just to see what happened next.
Chapter five
The Oven
Orion
Orion woke to the familiar burn of pre-heat crawling under his skin like a repo man’s warning, and his first coherent thought was fuck, not now.
His cycles had become a weapon over the past year—unpredictable, irregular, sometimes lasting only a day, sometimes stretching for two miserable weeks. Stress and poor nutrition made them impossible to track, which meant Leo could never plan his “claiming attempts” for the optimal window. The Alpha learned to watch for the signs, but Orion had gotten good at hiding them until it was too late.
But this time felt different. Stronger. And he had a sinking suspicion he knew why.
That corporate Alpha. Dante. His scent has been triggering me since he arrived.
His second thought was cut off by the sound of the locks disengaging. All five of them. At 7:30 in the morning.
That was wrong. Leo never came back this early. He left for his morning routine two hours ago, muttering about “innovative approaches” and “promising developments.” The only reason he’d be back now was—
The door burst open, and Leo stood there swaying slightly, still in yesterday’s clothes, reeking of alcohol and desperation. His eyes were wild, unfocused, and when he saw Orion sitting up in bed, his nostrils flared.
“I can smell it,” Leo said, his voice slurred but gaining intensity. “Pre-heat. Finally. After eleven months of missing every fucking window.”
Cold fear shot through him. The condition must have been stronger than he realized if Leo could detect it through his alcohol-soaked senses. “Leo, don’t—”
“Don’t what? Don’t take what’s mine?” Leo stumbled into the room, and Orion could see the desperate edge in his expression. “You think I don’t know what’s happening? You think I can’t smell your heat starting? This is it, Orion. This is my chance.”
“You’re drunk.” Orion scrambled backward on the bed, but there was nowhere to go with his back already against the wall. “You need to leave. Now.”
“Leave?” Leo laughed, high and desperate. “I’ve missed every window for eleven months. Eleven! Every time I catch your heat, you’re already too far gone to claim properly, too violent, too dangerous.” He gestured with his maimed hand. “You remember how I lost these fingers? Trying to claim you during a full heat. And the scars on my chest? Another failed attempt.”
Leo lurched forward, and Orion could see the wild calculation in his bloodshot eyes. “But pre-heat... that’s when you’re still rational enough to choose. When your biology is starting to want what I’m offering. I’ve been waiting for this moment for almost a year.”
Leo lunged forward, and Orion rolled away, but his condition made him slower than usual. The Alpha’s hand caught his ankle, yanking him back across the bed with brutal force.
“Let go!” Orion twisted, kicking out with his free leg, connecting with Leo’s ribs hard enough to make him grunt.
“You’re going to submit,” Leo panted, hauling himself up Orion’s body with grim determination. “Today. Right now. Before you go into full heat and try to bite my face off again. Before the others start making formal inquiries about claiming rights.”
The mention of other Alphas sent a spike of fear through Orion. He’d heard the whispers, seen the way some of Leo’s colleagues looked at him during the rare times he was paraded around the facility. Martinez from Security with his dead eyes and collection of antique restraints. Richardson from R&D, who talked about Omegas like they were lab specimens. The thought of being transferred to either of them made Leo seem almost tolerable by comparison.
“What others—”
“You think I don’t know about them asking questions? That Richardson’s been sniffing around, making jokes about ‘wasted opportunities’ and ‘assets requiring proper management’?” Leo’s hold tightened on Orion’s wrists, pinning them above his head. “Well, they can all fuck off. You’re mine. This is my window, Orion. The only time your body will want what I’m giving you.”
Orion brought his knee up hard, aiming for Leo’s groin, but Leo twisted at the last second, and the blow caught his hip instead. The Alpha’s response was immediate and vicious—a backhand across Orion’s face that made his ears ring and split his lip.
The taste of blood filled his mouth, metallic and warm. Good, Orion thought savagely. Let him see what claiming me costs.
“Stop fighting!” Leo’s voice was cracking with desperate fury. “Just fucking stop! I own you! Your contract belongs to me!”
“Contract doesn’t mean—” Orion’s words were cut off as Leo’s hands went for his throat, but this time Orion was ready. He sank his teeth into Leo’s forearm, tasting more blood as he bit down with everything he had.
Leo’s fist connected with his temple, making stars explode across his vision, but Orion held on. “You fucking animal!” Leo slammed his other fist into Orion’s ribs, and pain lanced through his chest. He released the mangled arm, gasping.
Leo stumbled backward, clutching his injured forearm, crimson seeping between his fingers. “Look what you did! Look at—”
Not done yet. Orion rolled off the bed and lunged for the door, but Leo caught him around the waist. They crashed into the wall together, and the impact drove the air from Orion’s lungs. Stars exploded behind his eyes again as Leo slammed him face-first against the concrete.
The rough wall scraped against his cheek, adding fresh pain to the growing collection. Focus. Find a way out. He’s hurt too.
“You think you can keep doing this?” Leo panted against his ear, pressing his weight against Orion’s back. “You think you can keep hurting me, embarrassing me, making me look weak?”
Yes, until one of us dies. Orion threw his head back hard, connecting with Leo’s nose. The wet crunch was satisfying, and Leo’s hold loosened as blood streamed down his face. Orion spun around, raking his fingernails across Leo’s cheek, feeling skin part under his nails. “Fuck your contract and fuck your—”
Leo’s return blow caught him across the mouth, snapping his head to the side. But the Alpha was swaying on his feet, his shirt soaked through with alcohol sweats and blood.
He’s as hurt as I am. Maybe more.
“You’re going to submit,” Leo gasped, advancing on him again.
Like hell. When Leo grabbed for him this time, Orion ducked low and drove his shoulder into Leo’s stomach, sending the Alpha staggering backward. But Leo recovered faster than expected, catching Orion by the hair and using his grip to slam the Omega’s head against the wall.
The impact sent lightning bolts of pain through Orion’s skull. Warm blood trickled down from his scalp, and his vision blurred. Can’t pass out. Can’t let him win.
Leo’s hand wrapped around his throat again, squeezing relentlessly.
“You’re mine,” Leo whispered, his breath hot against Orion’s ear. “You’ve always been mine. And when you’re in heat, when your body is begging for an Alpha, you’ll understand—”
No. Orion’s vision was graying out, but he managed to get his hands up, clawing at Leo’s face, his fingers finding the Alpha’s eyes. Leo howled and jerked back, but his grip on Orion’s throat tightened.
Getting dizzy. Can’t breathe. This is bad.
“I’ll kill you before I let anyone else have you,” Leo snarled, blood streaming from the scratches around his eyes. “If I can’t claim you, no one can.”
Orion couldn’t respond. His lungs burned, his chest heaved uselessly, and black spots were closing in on his vision. This was it. After a year of fighting, this was how Leo was going to—
Through the fog of pain, Orion heard rapid footsteps in the outer apartment. Then a pause. Then—
The bedroom door exploded inward, cracking off the wall as the handle struck the concrete.
What the fuck?
Dante stood in the doorway, and even through the haze of oxygen deprivation, Orion could see that the corporate mask had been stripped away. The Alpha’s face was carved from granite, his eyes cold as winter steel, and when he spoke, his voice carried the kind of quiet menace that made smart people run for cover.
“Get your hands off him. Now.”
Leo spun around, his grip on Orion’s throat loosening just enough for him to gasp in a desperate breath. Blood streamed from the scratches around Leo’s eyes, and his broken nose had turned his face into a mask of gore.
“This is none of your business, Ashford. He’s mine.”
“Actually,” Dante said, stepping fully into the room with predatory calm, “this is precisely my business. I came to discuss our vaccine optimization schedule, and instead I find you destroying a 2.7 million isc investment in what appears to be a drunken rage.”
Corporate bullshit, Orion thought dimly through the pain. But keep talking. Keep Leo distracted.
Leo blinked, trying to process the corporate speak through his alcohol-soaked fury. “What does that have to do with—”
“Everything,” Dante interrupted, his tone conversational. “Gensyn is considering a significant financial commitment to SVI’s vaccine scaling capabilities in exchange for your biodiversity research. The ability to responsibly manage valuable assets is central to our confidence in your organization’s fiscal competence.”
Oh, that’s good. Hit him where it hurts—his career.
“He was fighting—I was just—”
“You were strangling him. Which raises concerning questions about SVI’s risk management protocols.” Dante’s gaze swept over the blood-spattered room with clinical detachment. “If you can’t maintain a 2.7 million isc personal investment without resorting to attempted murder, how should I recommend that Gensyn trust you with millions more in vaccine infrastructure?”
“He was fighting—”
“Of course he was fighting. You’re drunk, you smell like failure, and you’re trying to force a claiming on someone in pre-heat.” Dante’s voice never rose, but something about how he said it made Leo take a step back. “Even by SVI standards, that’s impressively stupid.”
Leo’s face flushed purple. “You don’t know anything about—”
He never finished the sentence. Dante moved with the fluid precision Orion remembered from the courtyard, crossing the room in two steps and catching Leo’s extended arm. There was a cracking sound, and Leo screamed as suddenly the Alpha was on his knees with his arm twisted at an angle that made Orion’s stomach lurch.
“You’re going to leave,” Dante said pleasantly, maintaining his hold on Leo’s arm. “You’re going to go sleep off whatever you’ve been drinking. And you’re going to think very carefully about whether attempting to rape someone in pre-heat is really the hill you want to die on.”
“I wasn’t—he’s my—I have every right—”
Dante applied pressure, and Leo’s protests dissolved into a wordless keen of pain.
“Do you see the bruises on his throat?” Dante’s voice was still conversational. “Do you see the way he’s holding his ribs? Does that look like consensual claiming behavior to you?”
Leo was making small, desperate sounds now, his face gray with pain. “Please—”
“Please, what? Please don’t break your arm? Please don’t report this to SVI management? Please don’t explain to Dr. Voss how you nearly destroyed a 2.7 million isc investment in a drunken rage?” Dante paused, considering. “Those are all excellent ideas. I’m glad you thought of them.”
He released Leo’s arm, and the Alpha collapsed forward, cradling his injured limb against his chest.
“Out,” Dante said simply.
Leo struggled to his feet, swaying dangerously. “This isn’t over. He’s still mine. The contract—”
“The contract,” Dante interrupted, “specifies asset preservation, doesn’t it? Pretty sure attempted murder violates those terms.”
Leo opened his mouth to argue, looked at Dante’s expression, and apparently thought better of it. He stumbled out of the room, muttering threats and justifications under his breath.
The apartment door slammed, leaving Orion alone with the corporate Alpha who’d just dismantled his captor like it was a routine business meeting.
Dante turned to him, and the cold fury drained from his expression, replaced by something that might have been concern. “How badly are you hurt?”
Orion tried to speak and discovered his throat felt like it had been scraped raw. He managed a hoarse whisper: “I’ll live.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
The gentleness in Dante’s voice was somehow more devastating than Leo’s violence had been. Orion found himself struggling with an entirely different kind of response—one that had nothing to do with fighting and everything to do with the way this Alpha appeared when he needed help most.
His body, however, was sending conflicting signals. The pre-heat that made him vulnerable to Leo’s attack was now responding to Dante’s presence in a different way. Every place Leo touched him burned with pain, while every place Dante’s gaze fell seemed to tingle with anticipation. His biology didn’t care that he’d nearly been killed; it was already recalibrating to the stronger Alpha’s presence.
This was the kind of thinking that got Omegas claimed by predators who knew how to time their rescues perfectly.
“Why did you help me?” Orion asked.
Dante was quiet for a moment, studying Orion’s face with those calculating gray eyes.
“Because,” he said, “optimization requires the asset to remain functional.”
It should have been insulting. It should have reminded Orion that this was just another corporate Alpha who saw him as property.
Instead, something about the way Dante said it—like he was lying to both of them—made heat curl low in Orion’s belly that had nothing to do with his approaching he cycle.
Dante moved closer, reaching for the bruises forming on Orion’s throat. His touch was clinical but gentle as he assessed the damage. “These need to be treated.” His fingers were cool against the overheated skin, and Orion leaned into the touch before he could stop himself.
Dangerous. This is dangerous.
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.
