The Exiled Alpha's Human Male Mate.[BL]

As Bryce ventured farther into the building, Vincent’s presence began to make itself felt.

It started as something faint, almost imperceptible, but with every step, the sensation grew stronger.

Something inside Bryce stirred in response, an inexplicable ache that began clawing through him again, agitating something he desperately wanted to suppress.

At the same time, the whispers followed him.

He could hear them from different directions, fragments of conversations carried across the spacious interior, some spoken quietly enough to suggest they thought he couldn’t hear them.

Bryce tried not to react. He had no intention of wasting what little composure he had left worrying about what strangers thought of him.

His immediate plan was simple. He would go straight to Mr. Molloy’s office, collect himself and at least figure out what he was supposed to be doing.

Unfortunately, the moment he reached the elevators, he realized he couldn’t remember which floor Mr. Molloy had taken him to the previous day.

He couldn’t remember where he left the map either.

One of the elevator doors opened, and Bryce stepped toward the first person he saw.

"Excuse me."

"Yes?"

The woman looked at him with an expression that made it painfully obvious she considered the interruption an inconvenience.

"Which floor is Mr. Molloy’s office?"

"Who is Mr. Molloy?"

"The head of the janitorial department."

The woman looked him over.

"How would I know something like that? I don’t look like someone who cleans around here to you, do I?"

She turned and started walking away.

"A simple ’I don’t know’ would have saved your time."

The words slipped from Bryce’s lips in a low murmur before he could restrain them.

The woman halted and turned sharply. "What did you just say? Do you even know who you’re talking to?"

Bryce didn’t bother answering. He simply stepped into the elevator, despite having absolutely no idea which floor he was supposed to choose.

The encounter left an unpleasant taste in his mouth. He couldn’t believe someone working in the same company could look down on another person simply because of the department they belonged to.

The elevator began its ascent. And when it stopped at the next floor, the doors opened, and a familiar man stepped inside.

Bryce recognized him immediately. He was one of the men who had interviewed him the previous day.

"Thank God you came in. I have no idea where I’m going." Bryce extended his hand, grateful to see a familiar face.

The man stared at him for a moment, surprise flickering across his expression before he returned the greeting.

"You?"

He stepped fully inside and looked Bryce over.

"I didn’t expect you to be here today. Are you all right? I mean, are you feeling better? What happened yesterday? You left everyone completely stunned."

"I’m fine. It was just... some kind of panic attack. Nothing serious. But thank you for asking."

"Are you sure you’re okay?"

The concern in his voice sounded genuine.

"Yes, I’m fine."

Bryce wasn’t entirely convinced of that himself. The more he insisted that he was fine, the less certain he became.

With Vincent’s increasingly palpable presence, he was beginning to wonder whether he would actually be fine.

"I’m looking for the janitorial office," he added, hoping to steer the conversation elsewhere.

"I was going there too."

The man paused before adding, "Actually, I was going to look for you, although I wasn’t sure you’d be here."

Bryce looked at him.

"Look for me? Why?"

For the first time that morning, a flicker of hope rose inside him. Perhaps something had changed while he was away.

Perhaps someone had reconsidered the decision to send him to the janitorial department.

"I want to propose something. Since Mrs. Walker herself ordered you to work in janitorial, there isn’t much I can do to get you transferred out of there. But after you’re finished with whatever cleaning they’re assigned you, I’ll find you so we can work on the project. Secretly, of course. I’ll pay you myself for the work."

Bryce stared at him blankly.

Bryce stared at the man, hardly able to comprehend the trust he was placing in him. Whatever the reason behind it, Bryce wasn’t about to let such an opportunity slip away. This was a chance to do what he genuinely loved, and he had no intention of wasting it.

"Sure."

His answer drew a genuine smile from the man.

"Perfect," he said.

The elevator came to a stop with a soft ding.

"Here you go. Tenth floor," the man said.

"Thanks."

Bryce stepped toward the open doors, unable to suppress the faint excitement rising inside him.

For the first time in two days, he was feeling something other than confusion, shock, hurt, fear, overwhelming sexual arousal, and the countless other emotions that had left him mentally exhausted.

The prospect of finally doing something he actually loved offered him a brief reprieve from everything weighing on him.

He stopped before stepping out completely and turned back.

"I just realized I never got your name."

"Adam. Although most people here know me as Mr. Wilson. But you can call me Adam. I don’t mind."

"I’ll just go with Mr. Wilson."

"Whatever pleases you."

Adam answered with a faint smile.

Bryce found himself liking the man already. There was something about his manner that felt genuine, and after everything he had been dealing with, encountering someone who treated him with straightforward kindness was unexpectedly refreshing.

"By the way, try to be quick so we can get started by twelve. When you’re done, find me in the designing department office."

"Okay."

Bryce finally stepped out of the elevator, carrying an excitement he hadn’t felt in days.

He spotted the hallway leading to Mr. Molloy’s office almost immediately and headed toward it without hesitation. He stopped outside the door and knocked softly.

"Yes?"

A man’s voice came from inside. Bryce pushed the door open and stepped in, finding Mr. Molloy looking at him with undisguised surprise.

"I didn’t know you’d be coming back today," Mr. Molloy said.

"I’m doing fine. Sorry about the scene yesterday. It won’t happen again."

"Are you okay?"

"Yes. Very much okay."

Bryce answered with more certainty than he actually felt, forcing the words out as though saying them firmly enough might make them true.

Mr. Molloy studied him for a moment before nodding. "I gave your work to some of the others since I wasn’t sure you’d be coming back today. But since you’re here and you say you’re okay, clean the lobby. I haven’t found anyone to take care of it yet. After that, you can rest."

He pulled open a drawer, took out a lanyard and handed it to Bryce.

"The room with all the equipment is next to this one. And since you’ve assured me you’re fine, make sure whatever happened yesterday doesn’t happen again."

"Sure. It won’t."

Bryce accepted the lanyard and left the office.

He had barely reached the next door when a sudden wave of dizziness and nausea swept over him, alongside with Vincent’s scent.

It wrapped around him with startling intensity, stronger than it had been earlier, as though Vincent were somewhere close enough for Bryce’s body to recognize him.

Bryce caught himself against the wall, breathing through the sudden upheaval inside him as an instinctive urge rose from somewhere deep within him.

Find Vincent.

The craving to see him was sudden and infuriating. Some part of Bryce yearned for that proximity, for the very presence he had been trying so desperately to escape.

He hated it.

He hated that Vincent had rejected him, yet the pull remained.

He hated that his own body seemed unwilling to accept what had happened, continuing to reach for someone Bryce had every reason to stay away from.

With effort, he forced himself upright and pushed open the equipment-room door.

He was getting sick of this.

If the bond had truly been rejected, why was he still experiencing this?

He couldn’t keep ignoring it.

There was only one way he could get an answer, and perhaps a solution.

After finishing his work, he would find Vincent and ask him directly, whether Vincent wanted to see him or not.

The feeling was mutual, at least as far as Bryce was concerned. He had no desire to see Vincent either, regardless of how insistently his own body seemed to crave his presence.

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