7. Dante
DANTE
T wo weeks into the marriage, and Dante has learned something crucial: Marco's obsession is a weapon he can weaponize.
The alpha's love for him—because it's definitely love, bond or not—has made him vulnerable in ways Dante never would have anticipated. One moment of jealousy, one perceived threat, one instance of Dante talking with another alpha, and Marco loses complete control.
His possessiveness becomes violent, his need to reassert dominance becomes desperate, his entire being focuses on proving to Dante that he belongs to Marco and no one else.
And today, Dante is testing the limits.
He wears one of his outfits deliberately chosen to attract attention—tight black pants, a shirt that clings to his slender frame, cologne that enhances his natural omega scent.
He positions himself at the family dinner near Giulio, Marco's second-in-command, the alpha who looked at Dante with too much hunger that first day at the compound.
When Giulio approaches, Dante smiles—not a seductive smile, but not entirely innocent either. The kind of smile that suggests Dante might be interested in conversation, might be open to attention, might not be as completely claimed as everyone thinks.
He leans toward Giulio when the alpha speaks, enough to let his scent drift closer, enough to let Giulio think there might be an opening.
It takes Marco approximately two minutes to realize what's happening.
Dante watches from his peripheral vision as Marco's entire body goes rigid.
The alpha's hands clench into fists. His pupils dilate until there's barely any color left.
His scent floods the room with pure alpha fury—a challenge, a threat, a declaration that anyone approaching what belongs to him will face immediate and violent death.
Marco appears at Dante's side as if he's been teleported there.
Marco drags Dante down the dim, narrow corridor, his grip around Dante's wrist solid as an iron cuff. He forces open the heavy door to a dimly lit supply closet, shoves Dante inside, and slams the door shut, locking it with a sharp click.
The air instantly thickens with Marco's suffocating alpha scent—sharp tobacco and heavy black pepper mutated by pure, territorial rage.
"You think you can play games with me?" Marco snarls in the shadows, his massive frame pinning Dante flat against the concrete wall. "Smiling at Giulio. Letting him get close enough to catch your scent."
"We were just talking, Marco," Dante says, his voice trembling despite his attempt to sound defiant. His inner omega is practically on its knees, utterly intoxicated by the sheer, terrifying force of Marco's possessiveness.
"You belong to me. Every drop of your slick, every breath you take," Marco growls, his large hands ripping open Dante’s shirt, sending buttons scattering across the floor.
He grabs Dante’s chin, forcing his head back, and buries his face in the junction of Dante's neck. Marco opens his jaws and bites down brutally right over the existing fated mark, drawing a sharp drop of blood and forcing a loud, ragged gasp from Dante's throat.
The pain sends an immediate shockwave of heat straight to Dante's groin, his core instantly opening up and weeping thick, heavy slick down his thighs.
Marco doesn't wait. He yanks Dante's tight trousers down to his knees.
He reaches down, coating three thick fingers in the natural slick pouring from Dante's core, and shoves them deep inside the tight entrance.
He stretches the walls open with hard, unyielding thrusts, mimicking the brutal pounding to come.
Dante whines, his fingers clawing at Marco's broad shoulders as his body is forcefully prepped in the darkroom.
"Say it," Marco demands, yanking his slick fingers out and replacing them with the rigid, massive head of his cock. "Tell me who owns you before I ruin you."
"You do," Dante sobs, his hands gripping Marco’s back. "You own me, Marco."
Marco drives forward with a heavy, merciless thrust, burying his entire length inside the tight channel in one deep motion. The sudden, immense stretch forces a choked scream from Dante, his core clamping down desperately around the thick intrusion.
Marco locks his hands onto Dante’s hips, anchoring him against the concrete wall, and begins to fuck him with a violent, savage rhythm. Each hard impact echoes loudly in the small closet, the slick friction generating a heavy, wet sound that burns through Dante’s senses.
Dante’s head rolls back against the wall, his vision blurring from the sheer intensity of the pleasure and pain.
Marco’s movements are rough, completely driven by a dark, obsessive need to reassert absolute dominance.
He drives deeper with every stroke, hitting Dante's sweet spot with punishing accuracy until the omega is completely undone.
" Mine ," Marco growls against Dante's lips, his voice raw. "Nobody else looks at you. Nobody else touches you."
The relentless friction and the overwhelming power of the fated bond push Dante straight over the edge. His inner walls convulse violently, seizing around Marco’s length in a tight, desperate grip as a powerful orgasm rips through him, his release splattering blindly in the dark.
The intense, tight milking triggers Marco’s own release. The base of Marco's cock begins to swell rapidly, the knot expanding inside Dante's core and locking them tightly together as Marco groans, spilling a thick, hot wave of seed deep inside the claimed omega.
When they emerge from the closet thirty minutes later, Dante's clothes are disheveled, his lips are swollen from Marco's kiss, his neck is covered in fresh bite marks.
Everyone at the dinner knows exactly what happened.
Everyone knows that Dante belongs to Marco so completely that the alpha will take him anywhere, anytime, in front of anyone.
Dante watches Giulio's expression shift from hunger to fear. Mission accomplished.
Later, when they're back in the penthouse, Marco pulls Dante close and actually apologizes—for the jealousy, for the aggression, for not trusting Dante's loyalty. And Dante realizes that he didn't need to manipulate Marco. The bond has already done the work for him.
Marco is completely, utterly, irrevocably in love with him.