Now that the conversation was dying down, Vincent saw his chance to step in. He leaned back in his chair and lifted a hand in parting. “Goodnight, Gwynn and Alex. Goodnight, TD. It was nice meeting all of you.”
“Night!”
Gwynn, Alex, and TD exited the banquet hall through the front doors. When they were gone, Vincent planted the feet of his chair on the floor and stretched his arms over his head. The day had come to an end, and what a day it had been. His only regret was that Mal hadn’t been there to close the bar down with him. He didn’t date, and he didn’t get involved with men, but Mal had already sneaked his way behind Vincent’s barriers. One exception wouldn’t have hurt.
“Looks like it’s down to the three of us out-of-towners.” Knot stretched his arms over his head as well, then craned his neck from side to side. “We should probably get out before they come out with brooms and chase us away. Are you guys heading back to your hotels, or do you want to come out and find a bar with me somewhere? I’m not flying home until Monday morning, so I’ve got some wiggle room.”
“I’d love to go out with you.” Harley planted his hands on the bar and stood. “I’ve just got to make sure I call to check in with my daughter before we go have fun.”
“Yeah, no problem at all. I’m assuming it won’t take long.” Knot turned his gaze on Vincent. “What about you, oh fearless leader? Are you up for a Single Dad after-party?”
Vincent opened his mouth to politely decline, but the words never made it to his lips. A flurry of movement across the empty dance floor stole his attention, and, startled, he turned his head to look. Mal hurried across the reception hall, his shoulders pinched to his neck and his face worried.
What was going on?
The answer Vincent had been about to give blinked out of his mind, displaced by what he’d seen. Rationally, he knew that whatever Mal was doing was his own business, and that if Mal wanted his help, he would have reached out. But the frantic urgency with which Mal walked, and the stiff way he held himself, screamed trouble.
Had something happened?
Vincent knew what it was like to be alone and helpless. The fear that radiated from Mal was fear he recognized, even if he didn’t know its source.
Alone, optionless, terrified…
Vincent couldn’t let him go. Not now.
He had to make things right.
“xV?” Knot asked cautiously. Vincent was already crossing the floor at a jog, his pulse throbbing in his throat. “What’s going on? You okay?”
“Yeah. I’ll just… I’ll be right back.”
The man he couldn’t stop thinking about had walked into his life one last time, and he needed help. Vincent wouldn’t let him walk away again.
7
Mal
Heat was a fickle, frightening thing. It twisted minds and made demands of bodies, turning rational men into creatures of lust and instinct. Mal was no stranger to its forces—he’d been fertile twice a year since shortly after his seventeenth birthday—but it had never been quite like this.
Never so intense, so overwhelming.
Mr. Collins, are you sure you want to go through with this procedure? Going through so many rounds of IVF may pose a strain on your body…
At the time, Mal hadn’t thought much of it. The last two rounds of IVF he’d received had been unpleasant, but otherwise uneventful. He’d taken his blockers as necessary and gone about his day. The resulting fertility spikes had come and gone. There was always an itch that accompanied his heats, even when they were medicated—an insidious, creeping sensation that made him want to seek out somewhere soft and warm where he might bring a partner, if only he could find one. But today, even several hours after ingesting his blockers, that itch nearly consumed him. It roamed just beneath his skin and buried into his muscle in a place he couldn’t scratch. And the paranoia that feeling brought with it? It paralyzed him.
If anyone smelled his heat on him…
If it attracted the wrong kind of man…
Thoughts like that had kept Mal away from the reception and chased him out into the cold, then back into the storage closet when he couldn’t tolerate the low temperatures. There were too many people in the banquet hall and not enough ways to get to his car without being seen. The snow was piled too thick in the main grounds of the Kingsmen Club to make his way from around back without a struggle, and the last thing he needed was a stranger—or a group of them—spotting him from the parking lot and coming over to see if he needed help. All the help he’d needed, he’d received in the storage room. Mal wasn’t interested in meeting up with anyone else. Until his heat subsided, all he wanted was to be left alone.
At least, that was what he’d thought he needed, until Vincent caught him by the shoulder and pulled him to a stop.
“Mal?” Vincent asked. The things his brown eyes did to Mal were unfair—all the panic in Mal’s heart fled, arousal gradually building to take its place. When Vincent looked at him, it wasn’t with hunger or obscene need, even though their first moments together had been spent in lust. Mal had allowed Vincent access to his body, but Vincent didn’t assume it still belonged to him—the realization hit Mal deeper than he could chart. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”
Mal swallowed. His mouth was dry. “I am now.”
The smile he received was worth the fear of being caught. It plunged through Mal like a shot of expensive whiskey, dispensing through him in radiant, rolling waves. The struggles of his heat no longer seemed as bad. Vincent, who was not only flattering, but genuinely kind, would make sure nothing untoward would happen to him.
