Page 14 of The Sterling Acquisition
“I want to understand,” Dante said, his voice low and intimate. He placed one hand against the wall, bracing himself as he examined the scratches, but really caging Orion on one side. “How someone maintains that level of defiance in your circumstances. What it costs. Whether it’s sustainable.”
Orion’s breathing hitched, and Dante watched him struggle with conflicting impulses. His body was responding—leaning toward Dante’s warmth. The muscles in his shoulders and neck tensed, probably caught between fight and flight, but there was a third response building beneath the surface that neither of them was acknowledging.
When Orion spoke, his voice was strained. “Why? You going to document this?”
“Going to learn from it.” Dante’s other hand moved, seemingly casual, to brush a strand of hair away from Orion’s face.
This time, Orion didn’t snap at his fingers. Instead, he went very still, like prey caught in the space between predators. When Dante’s knuckles grazed his cheek, Orion’s eyes fluttered closed for just a moment before snapping open again, pupils blown wide, a flush of heat spreading across his skin.
“Don’t,” Orion whispered, but his body language said the opposite. He was leaning into the touch even as the word left his lips, the conflict between instinct and intellect written in every line of his body.
Orion studied his face, and Dante could see the war playing out. Biology versus survival instinct. The pull of an Alpha who smelled right versus the knowledge that any Alpha in this situation was dangerous.
“You’re not like other Alphas,” Orion said, but he didn’t pull away from Dante’s touch.
“How so?”
“You ask questions instead of making demands. You...” Orion hesitated, his breathing becoming more uneven as Dante’s thumb continued its slow path along his jaw. “You smell different.”
Dante’s free hand came up to brace against the wall beside Orion’s head, effectively caging him in as he pressed a knee on the bed for balance. “Different how?”
“Controlled. Like everything about you is managed. But underneath that...” Orion’s nostrils flared. “Underneath that is something that doesn’t belong in a boardroom.”
Dante felt his pulse quicken at the admission. “And what do you think that is?”
“I think,” Orion said slowly, his voice rough with what might have been arousal, “that you want things you’re not supposed to want. AndI think you’re here because you can’t decide whether to take them or pretend they don’t exist.”
The accuracy of that assessment stopped him cold. This beautiful, defiant, impossibly intelligent Omega had just read him like an open book while fighting his own body’s response to Dante’s proximity.
Dante’s moved one hand from the wall to cup the back of Orion’s neck, fingers tangling in his hair. Orion’s breath caught, and for a moment his eyes fluttered closed again. When he opened them, they were darker than before, pupils dilated with a want he couldn’t quite hide.
“You’re right,” Dante said, his lips close enough to Orion’s ear that his breath stirred the fine hairs there. “I do want things I’m not supposed to want.”
“And what’s that?”
Dante met his eyes, his hand tightening in Orion’s hair. “You.”
The word hung in the air between them, honest and dangerous and utterly unprofessional. Dante could feel the effect it had on Orion—the way his breathing stopped for a moment, the way his scent shifted again, becoming rich and sweet in a way that made Dante’s Alpha hindbrain roar with satisfaction.
Orion’s response started as a laugh, but it came out shaky and breathless. His hands came up—whether to push Dante away or pull him closer, neither of them would ever know, because they suddenly clenched into fists.
The punch caught Dante off guard, snapping his head to the side with enough force that he tasted blood. For a moment, the room went quiet except for both men breathing hard.
Well. That was definitely not in any manual he’d ever read. “How to Handle Violent Asset Responses” covered fleeing, cowering, and various forms of sobbing, but somehow the training departmentneglected to include “what to do when your target punches you in the face and you find it oddly charming.”
Dante slowly turned his head back to look at Orion, his hand coming up to touch his split lip. The coppery taste of blood filled his mouth, but there was no anger in his expression—if anything, he was impressed. This was probably the most honest interaction he’d had in months.
“Feel better?” Dante asked mildly.
Orion was staring at him with something like shock, as if he couldn’t believe Dante hadn’t retaliated. His hands were still clenched into fists, one of his knuckles split and bloody, but they were shaking. His chest rose and fell rapidly, and his scent exploded into something wild and conflicted—fear, want, confusion, and something darker underneath that Dante couldn’t quite identify. The Omega’s entire body was rigid, yet his eyes reflected a startled confusion.
“You... you didn’t hit me back,” Orion said. He pressed himself further against the wall, not in fear, but as if needing the solid support behind him.
“Did you want me to?” Dante took a calculated half-step back, not retreating but giving Orion breathing room.
“I... no. Yes. I don’t know.” Orion’s hands unclenched and clenched again, as if he wasn’t sure what to do with them now. “Everyone always hits back.”
“I’m not everyone,” Dante said simply, dabbing at his lip with the back of his hand. He made no move to close the distance again, watching Orion’s reactions. “And you needed to do that.”
