Chapter 10
The world outside the penthouse had ceased to exist for three days.
Inside the climate-controlled sanctuary, there was only the rhythm of breath, the slick slide of skin, and the overwhelming comfort of the bond that had cemented itself between them.
They had moved from the bed to the bath, and back to the bed, existing in a state of naked, primal intimacy that felt removed from the constraints of time.
Julian had never felt so thoroughly claimed, so completely saturated by another person’s essence.
His body was a map of Damien’s possession—bruised, bitten, and sore in the most satisfying ways.
Julian stood by the floor-to-ceiling window of the living room, wrapped in one of Damien’s heavy robes, watching the city lights flicker to life as dusk settled over Chicago.
He felt... different. Hollowed out, certainly, and physically exhausted in a way that went down to the marrow of his bones.
But there was a new equilibrium inside him.
The constant, gnawing anxiety he carried—the fear of exposure, the need to be twice as good, twice as sharp—had quieted.
He sipped a cup of tea, his muscles loose, his mind drifting in a pleasant haze. Behind him, Damien was in the kitchen, the sound of glass clinking as he poured wine. The Alpha had been checking in with his security team, ensuring their privacy hadn't been breached during their three-day isolation.
Julian felt safe. For the first time in his adult life, he felt truly, unequivocally safe.
Then the silence shattered.
Damien’s phone buzzed on the counter. Then again. Then a rapid-fire succession of dings that sounded like an alarm. Julian turned just as Damien picked it up. He watched the color drain from the Alpha’s face, watched the muscle in his jaw tick violently.
"Damien?" Julian asked, a prickle of unease running down his spine.
Damien didn't answer. He stared at the screen, his knuckles turning white. When he looked up, his eyes were burning, but not with lust. With a cold, terrifying fury.
"Put down the tea," Damien said, his voice dangerously quiet.
"What? Why?"
"Put it down, Julian."
Julian set the cup on the windowsill with a trembling hand. "You're scaring me."
Damien crossed the room in three long strides and thrust the phone into Julian’s hand. "Don't read the article. Just look at the photos."
Julian looked down. The screen was open to a gossip blog—one of those vicious, anonymous industry rags that traded in rumors and ruin.
The headline was in bold, red text: THE WOLF AND THE LAMB: Mercer CEO’s Secret Life as an Omega Prostitute Exposed.
Julian felt the blood leave his head. He scrolled down, his thumb moving mechanically.
There were photos.
A telephoto shot of him in the car after the gala, his face pressed against the leather seat, his mouth open in a moan, his eyes rolled back in ecstasy.
A grainy, invasive image of him being carried into the penthouse by Damien, his legs wrapped around the Alpha’s waist, looking thoroughly debauched.
And worst of all, a zoomed-in photo of his neck during the board meeting—taken through the glass of the conference room—showing the dark, mottled bruise of a bite mark, the collar of his shirt pulled aside as if by a predator.
The article didn't just out him. It vilified him.
It painted him as a scheming Omega who had used his biology to seduce a rival CEO to save his failing company.
It questioned his competence, his education, his entire career.
It claimed he had been "passing" as a dominant force in the industry, deceiving investors and partners.
"Sources close to the board confirm that Mercer has been on heavy suppressants for years," Julian read aloud, his voice sounding like it belonged to a stranger. "His erratic behavior and sudden closeness to Wolfe Industries suggest a biological imperative rather than a business strategy."
The phone slipped from his fingers, bouncing on the thick rug with a dull thud.
"They know," Julian whispered. "Everyone knows."
"Julian—" Damien started, moving toward him.
"Don't!" Julian scrambled back, pressing himself into the corner of the sofa. He felt like he couldn't breathe. The walls of the penthouse, which had felt like a sanctuary moments ago, now felt like a glass box. He felt exposed, naked under a microscope. "Don't touch me."
"It doesn't matter," Damien said fiercely. "The article is trash. We’ll sue. We’ll bury them. The stock might dip, but—"
"The stock?" Julian let out a hysterical, broken laugh. "Damien, look at me! I'm finished. Everything I built... every late night, every sacrifice... it's gone. They don't see a CEO anymore. They see a bitch in heat. They see a whore who sold his body to save his company."
The shame was a physical weight, crushing his chest. He had spent his entire life running from this. He had built an empire on the lie that he was something other than what biology dictated. And in three days, in a handful of leaked photos, it had all been torn down.
"You should go," Julian said, his voice cracking.
He stood up on shaky legs, pulling the robe tighter around himself, trying to hide the marks on his skin.
"You need to distance yourself from this.
If you're seen with me now, the narrative sticks.
The Wolf seduced the helpless Omega. It undermines your authority. It makes you look foolish."
Damien froze, his expression shifting from anger to disbelief. "You think I care about how I look?"
"You have to care!" Julian shouted, tears finally spilling over, hot and fast. "I'm a liability! Look at what they're calling me! A prostitute! A schemer! Is that who you want to be seen with? Is that who you want as a partner? A broken, used—"
"Stop," Damien growled, the Alpha command in his voice so potent it vibrated through the floorboards.
He moved, a blur of motion, and grabbed Julian. He didn't hurt him, but he held him with an iron grip, forcing Julian to face him. "You are not a liability. You are not broken. And if you ever call yourself a whore again, I will turn you over my knee and spank you until you remember who you are."
Julian gasped, the fight draining out of him as quickly as it had come. He slumped forward, his forehead resting against Damien’s chest. The tears came harder now, racking his body with ugly, broken sobs.
"I worked so hard," Julian wept, clutching at Damien’s shirt. "I worked so hard to be more than this. To be a person, not just a designation. And now... now I'm just a headline. I'm just a wet hole for the tabloids to jerk off to."
Damien’s arms wrapped around him, tight and secure.
"You are Julian Mercer," he snarled into Julian’s hair.
"You are the most brilliant strategist I have ever met.
You are ruthless, and arrogant, and infuriatingly competent.
Being an Omega doesn't change that. It never did.
These photos... they don't show weakness. They show that you belong to me."
He pulled back, cupping Julian’s face, forcing him to look up. Julian’s eyes were red-rimmed, his face blotchy.
"I am not leaving," Damien declared, his voice rough with emotion. "I am going to walk out of this building with you tomorrow morning, and I am going to hold your hand in front of every camera and reporter in the city. And they will know that you are not a victim. You are my mate."
Julian shook his head, trembling. "You can't. It will ruin you."
"I don't care about the stock price, Julian. I care about you."
Damien’s thumb brushed away a tear from Julian’s cheek. The touch was gentle, but the heat in his eyes was intensifying. It was a familiar heat—a protective, possessive fire.
"Let me prove it," Damien whispered. "Let me erase them. Let me erase their words."
He leaned in and kissed Julian.
It wasn't a kiss of conquest. It was a branding. Damien kissed him like he was trying to consume the sorrow, to replace the shame with sensation. His tongue swept into Julian’s mouth, tasting the salt of his tears and the sweetness of the tea.
Julian melted into it. He let out a shuddering sigh, his hands coming up to fist in Damien’s shirt. The panic receded, pushed back by the rising tide of desire. He needed this. He needed to be wanted, not as a headline, but as a man.
Damien walked him backward, not toward the bedroom, but to the heavy fur rug in front of the cold fireplace. He lowered Julian down onto the soft pelt, the city lights painting them in shades of gold and shadow.
"Take this off," Damien ordered, tugging at the belt of the robe.
Julian hesitated for a fraction of a second. He felt exposed. But he loosened the knot and let the silk fall away, leaving him bare under Damien’s gaze.
Damien’s eyes darkened. He ran his hands over Julian’s chest, his stomach, his hips. He touched the bruises he had left, the bite marks, the scratches. He traced the curve of Julian’s waist with a reverence that made Julian’s breath hitch.
"Look at you," Damien murmured. "You think this is weakness? This body that took everything I gave it? That took my knot for three days straight? You are strength, Julian. You are power."
He leaned down and pressed his lips to Julian’s sternum. Then his ribs. Then his stomach. He mapped Julian’s body with his mouth, kissing away the invisible stains of the tabloids.
When Damien reached Julian’s hips, he paused. He looked up, his golden eyes locking with Julian’s hazel ones.
"Keep your eyes on me," Damien commanded. "Don't close them. I want you to see who is touching you."
Julian nodded, his breath coming in short pants.
Damien lowered his head. He didn't go straight for Julian’s cock. Instead, he nosed at the crease of Julian’s thigh, inhaling the scent of his mate. He licked a long, wet stripe up the sensitive skin, making Julian shiver.
"Damien..." Julian whined, his hands tangling in the Alpha’s hair.
"Patience," Damien murmured against his skin. "I'm reclaiming you."
He moved to Julian’s cock, which was starting to fill, twitching under the attention. Damien licked the head, swirling his tongue around the ridge, tasting the bead of precum that had gathered there.
Julian moaned, his hips bucking up involuntarily. "Oh god."
Damien took him into his mouth. He went slow, taking him inch by inch, relaxing his throat until his nose was pressed against Julian’s pelvis. He swallowed, the muscles of his throat constricting around the head.
Julian cried out, his back arching off the rug. The wet heat was overwhelming, the suction perfect. Damien set a rhythm that was maddening—slow, deep pulls that made Julian’s toes curl.
But Damien wasn't done. He reached over to the side table where he had placed a bottle of oil earlier. He slicked his fingers and reached between Julian’s cheeks.
Julian tensed for a moment, still sore, but Damien was gentle. He circled the rim, massaging the tight muscle until it relaxed. He slipped one finger in, then two, crooking them to find that spot inside Julian that made stars burst behind his eyes.
"Ah! Damien, please!" Julian begged, his voice breaking.
Damien pulled off Julian’s cock with a wet pop. "Please what? Tell me."
"Fuck me. I need... I need you inside."
Damien growled, the sound vibrating through Julian’s body. He removed his fingers and quickly shed his own clothes. His cock was hard, jutting up against his stomach, the head flushed and leaking.
He positioned himself between Julian’s thighs. He hooked Julian’s legs over his shoulders, opening him up completely. The position was intimate, vulnerable. Julian was spread wide, unable to hide anything.
"Watch," Damien said, aligning himself. "Watch me take you."
He pushed forward.
The stretch was intense. Julian gasped, his hands scrabbling against the fur rug. Damien didn't stop until he was fully seated, his hips flush against Julian’s ass.
"Feel that?" Damien grunted, grounding his hips in a slow circle. "That is real. This is the only truth that matters. You are mine. And I am yours. And nothing the press prints can take that away."
He pulled back and thrust in, setting a slow, deep pace. He wasn't rushing. He was savoring. Every stroke was deliberate, hitting Julian’s prostate with unerring accuracy.
Julian was sobbing again, but this time it wasn't from shame. It was from the overwhelming intensity of the pleasure and the emotion. He felt seen. He felt claimed.
"You are not a liability," Damien whispered, leaning down to capture Julian’s mouth in a searing kiss. He never broke his rhythm. "You are my partner. My equal. Say it."
"I'm... I'm your equal," Julian gasped, his hips meeting Damien’s thrusts.
"Again."
"Your equal. Oh god, Damien, right there."
Damien increased his pace, his hips snapping forward with more force. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with their moans. The scent of sex and Alpha was thick in the air, drowning out the memory of the outside world.
Damien reached between them and grabbed Julian’s cock, stroking him in time with his thrusts.
"Come for me, Julian," Damien commanded. "Show me you're still here. Show me you're still whole. Give me your pleasure."
Julian screamed. His orgasm crashed through him like a tidal wave, whiting out his vision. He came hard, spilling over Damien’s hand and both of their stomachs, his walls clenching tight around the Alpha’s shaft.
The sensation triggered Damien’s own release. With a guttural roar, Damien buried himself deep. His knot began to swell, locking them together. Julian felt the hot rush of cum filling him, claiming him all over again.
Damien collapsed on top of him, careful not to crush him, his face buried in Julian’s neck. He licked the scent gland there, soothing the tender skin.
They lay there on the rug, tangled in each other, the sweat cooling on their skin. The knot held them fast, a physical reminder of their bond.
Julian stared up at the ceiling. The tears had dried. The panic had settled into a dull ache, but it was manageable now. He felt... anchored.
"The board is going to call for my resignation," Julian said finally, his voice raspy.
"Let them try," Damien said, pressing a kiss to Julian’s pulse point. "I have the majority share now. And I have the best lawyer in the city. And I have you."
Julian turned his head, looking at Damien. The Alpha’s face was calm, resolved. He looked like a man ready to go to war for the man in his arms.
"You meant it," Julian said. It wasn't a question. "About the partner. The equal."
"Every word," Damien said. "We’re going to fix this, Julian. Together. But tonight... tonight you stay here. You let me hold you. And tomorrow, we remind the world why you are the Shark."
Julian let out a long, shaky breath. He wrapped his arms around Damien’s neck, pulling him closer.
"Okay," Julian whispered. "Together."