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.

At least, unless Mal asked for it to happen.

Do I really need to go through with IVF?

The thought crept into his mind, unwelcome. The family Mal wanted and the relationship he’d been craving had always been mutually exclusive, and they had to remain that way. He didn’t want to trap Vincent. Trying to have a baby with a man he barely knew was a terrible idea. The morality of it disagreed with Mal on a fundamental level, and even if it hadn’t, the legal complications were too numerous and complex…

Vincent spoke, tearing him from his problematic thoughts. “I’m glad. I was hoping that I’d get to see you again before the reception ended.”

Outside the storage closet, there was no dim lighting to hide Mal’s aged skin, but Vincent didn’t seem to notice. Mal didn’t notice flushed cheeks or slurred words, either—could he be sober? Hope twisted in Mal’s heart, but he didn’t trust it not to leave him disappointed. He’d never been lucky in love, and with someone as young and handsome as Vincent, it was more of a pipedream than ever.

But it wasn’t love, was it?

Vincent was going home, and Mal would stay behind.

“I realized I didn’t get to say goodbye properly,” Vincent continued. The kind smile on his face was nuanced by the affection in his eyes, and it made the hope in Mal’s chest loop over onto itself, like a string twisted too tightly. “It was a pleasure meeting you. I hope that maybe someday, our paths might cross again.”

Then, gently, Vincent cupped Mal’s cheek and stole a sweet, chaste kiss from his lips.

The hope twisted in Mal’s heart unfurled all at once, unleashing itself like a bullet from the chamber of a gun—with a red-hot explosion, startling intensity, and lethal consequences. Mal’s knees went weak, and before he knew what he was doing, he’d wrapped his arms around Vincent’s neck and deepened the kiss a thousandfold.

Vincent wasn’t in Aurora to stay, but tonight, Mal needed to feel like he was wanted—like his dreams were possible, despite how long it had taken him to find the strength to achieve them on his own. He was an independent man who’d conquered life despite having suffered its injustices for years. He’d triumphed despite multiple struggles. He deserved to feel desired, and he deserved to bring an alpha to bed tonight, no strings attached.

There was hooting from across the banquet hall.

“Fuck yeah, xV!” someone shouted. “Get in there!”

Vincent chuckled against Mal’s lips, and Mal felt him grin. Then, to Mal’s surprise, Vincent wrapped his arms around Mal’s waist and tugged him closer. The kiss deepened, and Mal hummed with delight. He rooted his hands in Vincent’s hair as his cock started to stir.

One night. One alpha who’d proved himself to be more than a selfish jerk. One moment of indiscretion.

Mal was ready.

“I don’t want to say goodbye yet,” Mal whispered against Vincent’s lips, barely breaking from the kiss to speak. “Take me home and say goodbye to me in the morning.”

Vincent didn’t reply with words. The sound that escaped him was an enchanted sound, partway between wonder and arousal, like he couldn’t believe that Mal would want him. Mal couldn’t understand it. Vincent was handsome and kind—who in their right mind wouldn’t want to go home with him?

The question fled Mal’s mind when Vincent kissed him all over again. Why did it matter? Tonight, Vincent was his. What they shared didn’t have to mean anything more. Mal would make his own dreams come true in his own time. It didn’t mean that he couldn’t have fun while he built his future one brick at a time.

And the brick he’d lay tonight? Mal grinned into the kiss, seconds away from a laugh. It would leave him sweaty and breathless, but god, was it going to be fun.