“Yes,” Mal whispered. In Vincent’s eyes burned unchecked need, suppressed by his respect for Mal. Vincentwantedhim, but he wouldn’t touch without permission. “It’s what I want.You’rewhat I want.”
It was all he needed to say. There, amongst passing pedestrians and evening traffic, Vincent brought Mal close and kissed him like Mal had never been kissed before. It was soft and sweet, reassuring, but passionate. It lit Mal up from the inside like he was a firefly in June.
Vincent didn’t take, nor did he demand—heshared.
Shared his emotions, his wants, and his respect for Mal all at once.
Mal squeezed his eyes shut and looped his arms around Vincent’s neck. The kiss deepened upon his insistence, and the rest of the world bled away.
In that moment, they were alone. Alone, safe, and sheltered. The world wouldn’t drive them apart, and Mal’s troubled past wouldn’t pock the moment.
All this time, all these years, this was what he’d needed.
Vincentwas what he needed.
Here, amongst the faceless crowds and crawling traffic, happiness—even if only momentary—was his at last.
22
Vincent
Moments Vincent barely remembered brought them from the street corner back to the secluded parking lot tucked behind Bistro Chatelaine. There, concealed from the main streets by storefronts, Vincent pushed Mal against the door of his car and rekindled their kiss. Mal’s arms tightened around his neck while his lips claimed Vincent’s greedily. The night blanketed them in its shadows, working alongside the location of the parking lot to keep their passion private. The sounds of passing traffic were muffled and distant, nothing more than an afterthought. No one would see them. No one would stare, or judge, or click their tongues in disapproval.
And even if they did, Vincent wouldn’t care. HewantedMal, and nothing was going to keep them apart.
When was the last time he’d felt so authenticallyhimself?
“Vincent,” Mal moaned against his lips as the kiss broke. “God, Vincent…”
Hearing his name from Mal’s lips ignited need inside of Vincent, and he kissed him fiercely, silencing them both for a long moment. Mal moaned into his mouth and kissed back, his fingers gripping the collar of Vincent’s shirt tightly. His hips pushed forward, and Vincent felt how hard he’d become.
Mal wasn’t the only one. Vincent pushed back, letting Mal feel that he was hard, too.
“Vincent,” Mal whispered when the kiss tapered into nothing. The sound of his voice was charmingly flustered, like there was something on his mind he didn’t know how to get out without embarrassing himself. “Come home with me.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Mal kissed the corner of his mouth, unleashing a flurry of short, burning kisses over Vincent’s jawline. “If you’re going to be getting me pregnant in the clinic anyway, then… then maybe we can just…”
Mal trailed off, but Vincent wasn’t yet addle-minded enough to mistake his meaning. Mal was inviting him over to breed him—to knock him up the traditional way. The thought, while flattering, struck a note of discord inside Vincent, and the stitching that had so long kept his heart in one piece tore open. He’d wanted to tell Mal tonight, anyway, and after Mal had opened up to him about his past to let him know his struggles, Vincent owed him the same courtesy. “Mal, I’m flattered, but… I can’t.”
The response earned him more trailing kisses, like Mal believed that if only he tempted Vincent enough, he could see his plan through to fruition. If only.
“When I told you before that I was infertile, I meant it,” Vincent continued. The words pained him to say, but they needed to be said. Mal deserved to know the truth. “I wasn’t lying to try to worm my way out of using a condom, or using it as a ploy to trick you into feeling safe to have sex with me. I will never impregnate anyone, no matter how hard I try, or how much I wish otherwise.”
“You have a daughter,” Mal replied. The way he spoke told Vincent that he was still perched firmly in arousal—he wasn’t thinking things through. “It must not be impossible.”
Vincent had come to Aurora to start fresh—to live the truth as he saw it in his heart. But if he was going to involve himself with someone else, he needed to be honest.
He closed his eyes, braced himself for what was about to come, and confessed. “I have a daughter because I was the one who carried her to term. Genetically, I’m an omega, Mal. I don’t produce viable sperm, and I can’t knot. I’m sorry.”
Silence stretched for a painfully long time, but the electric feeling in the air didn’t dwindle into nothing. Vincent’s heart raced—from fear, from uncertainty, and from the adrenaline now rushing through him. It had been years since he’d transitioned, and these days, he passed flawlessly for an alpha, but the fear was still there. The apprehension. Compared to most alphas, he was a little more slender, and maybe a little on the short side, but the signature of his scent had changed, and the heats that had always left him feeling dirty and wrong had stopped long ago. The omega that he’d never been was gone, replaced by the alpha who’d lived in his soul since his earliest childhood memories. The only parts of him that remained were the parts that Vincent couldn’t strip from himself—no level of hormone replacement therapy could convince his body to produce the sperm it was physically unable to produce, and no amount of begging, pleading, or bargaining could force it to do away with his now-defunct ovaries and uterus in exchange for the supplementary penile tissue that would allow him to knot.
Here in Aurora, away from the people who’d known him pre-transition, he was able to lead the life he’d always wanted. He could exist without enduring the knowing looks and the quirked, smug grins that followed him wherever he went, and he was able to escape the curious looks, the questions, theprodding.
But Vincent wanted Mal for more than just a night. He deserved to know, no matter how badly Vincent wished to forget.
To Vincent, it was simple: he was an alpha. Full stop. Melissa hadn’t thought the same, and it had torn apart their marriage. He couldn’t risk the same with Mal.
