Page 105 of The Sterling Acquisition
“Nah, you’re fine. Nothing I haven’t seen before.” Lilac waved dismissively. “Though you might want to grab something before we go see Granny Lu. She’s got opinions about proper etiquette.” Her grin widened. “When you’re both ready to face the world and be civilized, I’ll walk you over .”
Chapter thirty-six
Unsanctioned Disclosure
Orion
Gettingdressedfeltlikeperforming a normal human activity for the first time in months.
Orion pulled on the clothes Lilac had left for them—simple, practical things that smelled like soap and sunshine instead of corporate sterility or fear. His body moved with an ease he’d almost forgotten was possible.
His heat was still there, a warm pulse beneath his skin, but it felt manageable. Like background music instead of a fire alarm screaming in his head, the burning emptiness transformed into something gentler that reminded him of Dante’s presence without demanding immediateattention.
He ran his fingers across his neck, half-expecting to find some physical evidence of change. Nothing visible, but something felt different—the glands at his throat seemed more sensitive, his pulse stronger under his fingertips. Every breath carried Dante’s scent to him with crystal clarity.
He should have been suspicious of the change, should have been analyzing what it meant, but honestly? He was just grateful to think clearly for once.
What he couldn’t stop thinking about was Dante.
Dante had changed, too. The precision was still there, the careful economy of movement, but there was something different in the way he carried himself—more fluid, less rigidly controlled. The permanent furrow between his brows had smoothed out, and his scent had deepened, acquiring notes that reminded Orion of warm cedar and thunderstorms.
Most telling was the bite mark on Dante’s neck. It had already begun to heal, the edges clean rather than inflamed, but the mark itself stood out starkly against his skin. Orion couldn’t tear his eyes away from it. He’d left plenty of bite marks on Leo over the years—vicious, defensive things meant to hurt and repel. But this was different. He’d bitten Dante in a moment of absolute pleasure, driven by some instinct he couldn’t name. Even now, his mouth watered at the sight, an impulse to press his lips there again rising unbidden.
It was ridiculous. He should be putting distance between them, should be planning his next move, should be doing anything except wanting to walk over and just... touch. Not sexually—though that was definitely still there, humming in his blood—but somethingsimpler. More fundamental.
He wanted to press his face against Dante’s neck and breathe him in. Wanted to curl up against his side and feel safe in a way he’d never allowed himself to feel with anyone.
The realization made his stomach twist with something uncomfortably close to shame. He’d spent years defining himself by his refusal to submit, his determination to remain unclaimed. His entire identity had been built around resistance. What did it mean that he now craved the very connection he’d spent so long fighting against?
“You ready?” Dante asked, and Orion startled, realizing he’d been staring.
“Yeah.” His voice came out rougher than intended. “Let’s get this over with.”
Because that’s what this was going to be—Tallulah telling them to get the fuck out of her territory, probably with a stern lecture about bringing corporate heat down on her people. Orion couldn’t blame her for it. They’d shown up covered in blood and desperate, asking for help they had no right to expect. The fact that she helped at all was more than he’d dared hope for.
The walk to the community center was short, but Orion was hyperaware of Dante’s presence beside him. Not in the way he’d learned to be aware of threats, but in some new way that made his skin prickle with the need for contact. Every time their shoulders brushed, every time he caught a fresh hit of Dante’s scent on the breeze, something in his chest settled like a key finding its lock.
It was unsettling as hell.
Last night was...Orion cut that thought off before it could fully form. He wasn’t ready to examine what last night had been. Wasn’t ready to acknowledge how much he’d wanted it, how good it had felt to finally stop fighting and just... give in. How right it had feltto sink his teeth into Dante’s flesh at the moment of his release, like completing a circuit he hadn’t known was broken.
He’d spent years building walls against this kind of vulnerability, and Dante had been steadily chipping away at them with every weird, horny fight they’d had since the moment they met. Every time Dante had refused to back down, every time he’d pushed back with that infuriating combination of dominance and genuine care, another brick had crumbled. Last night hadn’t been a sudden demolition—it had been the final collapse of defenses that were already riddled with holes.
It should have felt like defeat. Should have felt like everything he’d sworn to never let happen.
Instead, it felt natural.
And that scared him more than any amount of corporate pursuit ever could.
The community center was alive with afternoon activity—children running through the main hall, adults gathered in small groups discussing what looked like community projects, the smell of fresh bread and stewing meat wafting from what must have been a communal kitchen. Unlike SVI’s rigid corporate efficiency or Leo’s chaotic apartment, this place felt lived-in, a space designed for actual humans rather than corporate assets.
Tallulah was waiting for them in a small side room, her wheelchair positioned near a desk covered with maps and what looked like hand-written journals. When they entered, she set aside the papers she’d been reading and studied them with the same sharp assessment she used during their first meeting, though her expression seemed less suspicious than before.
“Well now,” she said, a hint of warmth creeping into her usual gruffness. “You two look a sight better than you did this morning. Got some color back in your cheeks.”
“Thanks to your hospitality,” Orion said. “I know we brought trouble to your door. I’m grateful you helped us anyway.”
Something flickered across her expression—surprise, maybe, or amusement. “Sit,” she said, gesturing to the chairs across from her. “We need to talk.”
