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

Vincent walked over to his chair and sat down, his gaze fixed on Bryce, who was visibly struggling to steady himself.

The tension in his posture was unmistakable, as though even standing there was becoming an effort.

"Why do I still have the mark and this fucking pull toward you even after you rejected me?" Bryce finally asked, the question leaving him on a strained breath.

Vincent didn’t answer immediately.

He stared at Bryce, but all he could see was him kissing the other man earlier. He couldn’t determine what exactly bothered him about it.

"What are you talking about?"

Vincent asked, even though he knew exactly what Bryce meant.

He should have just told him the truth. That the bond hadn’t been completely severed because Bryce hadn’t rejected him in return.

If Bryce rejected him now, whatever remained between them would finally be gone.

Instead, Vincent pretended not to understand.

"I just told you I still have the mark, and I still feel drawn to you against my will." Bryce repeated himself, frustration sharpening his voice.

The words struck Vincent harder than he expected, particularly the last part.

’Against his will.’

Something dark and unpleasant twisted inside him.

"What other reason could there be, Mr. Jones?" Vincent asked, his voice acquiring a cutting edge. "Perhaps within two days you’ve developed genuine feelings for me. Are you always this quick to fall in love? Or is it because of how I took care of you that night? I must have surpassed your boyfriend’s performance for you to become attached that quickly."

Vincent could hardly believe the words coming out of his own mouth.

He knew exactly how provocative they were, yet he found himself unwilling to take them back. In his right mind, he would never speak that way.

Worse, some reckless part of him wanted to keep going, to push Bryce further, as though provoking him was somehow easier than facing whatever had been stirring inside him since the moment he had seen that kiss.

Bryce’s fingers curled into tight fists.

"You wish, Vincent. I don’t have feelings for you, and even if I did, I wouldn’t allow myself to keep them."

"I’ve told you countless times. Don’t call me that again."

Vincent’s voice was firm, but the authority that normally accompanied such an order was strangely absent.

He reached for the collar of his black shirt, already undone several buttons, and pulled it farther aside, exposing the side of his neck.

"Do you see any mark on me?"

Bryce looked.

For a moment, however, his attention seemed to drift from the question. The exposed skin caught his attention with an intensity he didn’t want to acknowledge, stirring an instinctive desire to move closer, and press his lips on it.

"There’s none," Vincent continued. "And you know why? Because I severed the bond completely. There was nothing left behind. You’re the one who hasn’t let it go. You still have feelings attached to the bond, and perhaps to me. That’s why you’re still experiencing everything you’re describing.

I don’t feel any of it anymore."

The words should have sounded final.

Instead, as Vincent spoke and continued watching Bryce, his own heartbeat began accelerating.

He was exposing far more of himself than necessary. There was no reason for him to leave his collar open like that, no reason to sit there displaying the unmarked skin of his neck.

And yet he didn’t cover it.

Some inexplicable part of him seemed almost desperate to see Bryce lose control, to watch him step closer to him.

Bryce swallowed hard, his fingers tightening until his knuckles ached as everything in his awareness seemed to draw him toward Vincent.

It was almost as though his vision had narrowed into a single, merciless focus, making every detail of the man before him unnervingly vivid.

The breadth of his chest, the arms Bryce instinctively wanted wrapped around him, the hands he remembered too vividly against his skin.

His thoughts spiraled further when the memory of the night they had slept together surged back without warning.

He remembered Vincent above him, the sensations he had awakened in Bryce, the intensity of it all.

He hated how fiercely he craved that feeling again in the moment, how the memory could reduce everything else to background noise until there was nothing left but the desire itself.

With considerable effort, Bryce dragged his gaze away.

Vincent’s frustration sharpened when Bryce didn’t move toward him, despite the obvious struggle taking place within him.

Against his better judgment, Vincent began releasing his alluring pheromones.

They spread through the office and enveloped Bryce almost immediately. Whatever control Bryce had been clinging to weakened beneath their influence.

"Put on the patch, please," Bryce murmured.

The request only seemed to aggravate Vincent further.

"Why would I use it anymore? This is your problem now."

Bryce’s legs carried him forward toward Vincent before he consciously decided to take a step.

Vincent held his breath, his entire body going still as a quiet voice in his mind urged Bryce to keep coming.

"Would you rather I lose control and force myself on you, or would you just do me a favor and put the patch on?" Bryce asked, each word strained by the effort it took to speak.

"Neither."

Vincent said, even though somewhere in his mind, he had already chosen the first option.

"You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?" Bryce muttered.

He finally reached Vincent’s desk and braced himself against it, his breathing uneven. The pheromones seemed even stronger this close, making it increasingly difficult to maintain the distance he had been fighting to preserve.

He moved around the desk, closing the remaining space between them.

"Watching me lose control while you sit there enjoying it." Bryce’s voice trembled with frustration. "I know something isn’t right. You’re not telling me everything."

He barely finished before leaning toward Vincent. Their faces were only inches apart, and Vincent didn’t move away.

"If this keeps happening, I’d rather remain jobless than give you this satisfaction every day," Bryce whispered. "The satisfaction of watching me struggle and beg you to touch me."

The words snapped Vincent back to reality. He pulled away abruptly, startled by the realization that he had actually been about to let Bryce kiss him.

His expression hardened immediately.

"You think I care whether you work here or not?You make no difference. I was actually wondering what you’re doing here working as a janitor when your boyfriend is supposedly wealthy." As he spoke, he turned toward the desk and pulled open a drawer.

He took out a pheromone suppressant patch, tore open the packaging and pressed it against the side of his neck.

The effect was immediate enough for Bryce to feel the oppressive pull beginning to recede.

Vincent closed the drawer with a sharp motion.

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