Askai was halfway through the case study on Organised Crime when Professor Iyer, in her usual clipped tone, announced,
"There will be another case analysis due next Monday. Groups of two. Pick your partners wisely. It will account for twenty percent of your semester grade."
A groan passed through the classroom like a wave, and Askai leaned back in his chair, sighing at the ceiling.
Great.
Another damn assignment. He was about to get crushed under this institutional education system. He would have fret more like a normal college student, but his phone buzzed on the desk.
He glanced down.
Unknown Number
Reach the Regale suite. 13:00 hours. Do not be late.
No name. No sign-off. But it didn't need one.
He recognized the sharp edge of authority in that tone. It was Vance.
His heart jumped in his chest as he stared at the screen that blinked the time.
12:45.
Shit.
He gathered his things, muttered a half-hearted excuse to the professor, and without waiting for her response, he slipped out. She was too busy pairing off students into passive-aggressive duos to stop him anyway.
Outside, it was hot. The sun was glaring in the sky. The air was thick, humid, and almost suffocating. This was not the best day to be outdoors. But he ran.
The Regale suites were in the private residential quadrant next to the Finance Block, easily half a mile from where his class was. By the time he reached the entrance, his white cotton shirt was plastered to his back with sweat, and his jeans clung to him. His breath came in short, sharp gasps.
He hesitated a moment outside the glass door. Lifted a hand to knock or ring.
The door slid open before he could. Cool air rushed out in a welcoming gasp, and he stepped inside the opulent interior of the room.
And then, as if summoned, Vance appeared.
He stood by the floor-to-ceiling window in the main lounge, hands tucked into his pockets, dressed like he was expecting a board meeting—not a guest. Slate gray shirt, sleeves rolled neatly, black trousers, and a watch that cost more than Askai's tuition.
The late afternoon sun poured in behind him, bathing his outline in amber. That hard, disciplined frame radiated heat, warmth—life. And for the first time, Askai realized how breathtaking Vance looked when stripped of his storms.
He wasn't barking orders. He wasn't playing the cold, untouchable villain who handed out punishment like a religion. He was simply standing there—lost in thought, staring into a horizon only he seemed to recognize.
And in that fleeting, stolen moment… he looked human. Achingly human. Askai felt his heart stutter in his chest—an unwelcome, disloyal jolt of emotion. A rogue warmth unfurled inside him, softening places he'd sealed off long ago. For a breath—maybe even two—Askai forgot what Vance could do with a single order.
Just like that…Vance Regale- ruthless, untouchable—stole Askai's breath.
But then his gaze flicked toward Askai.
"You're late."
His voice wasn't loud, but it landed like a slap, gratefully breaking the trance that was slowly luring Askai toward his doom.
Vance wasn't just annoyed. He was glaring at him, much like before.
Askai opened his mouth to argue, but he followed Vance's eyes—and realized what he was looking at.
His white shirt had gone nearly transparent from the sweat. It clung to his chest, stuck to his back. He suddenly felt very aware of every inch of his skin beneath the fabric. And Askai's brain, unfortunately, remembered everything about that night—Vance's weight, his mouth, the scrape of fingers down his neck. Things he hadn't been fully sober to understand back then. But he was now.
His skin flushed, heat blooming up his throat.
"I checked the time," he said, carefully choosing his words. "It's barely a minute past one. The walk from the law building is half a mile. In this heat... I ran but.."
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
He kept his voice even. Didn't want to sound defensive. Didn't want to sound like he was making excuses. Words had to be placed like stepping stones here—one misstep and he knew Vance would shove him into some damn Lake to drown. He looked like it.
Vance didn't respond. His expression didn't change, but the tension in the room grew thicker. Askai could feel it humming beneath the surface, but Vance waited. Waiting for him to say something.
"I didn't have anything to do with the drink spiking," Askai explained, more quietly now, assuming this was the cause of Vance's anger. "If that's what this is about." He gestured toward the room.
That earned a shift.
Vance's eyes narrowed before he waved a hand like swatting away a thought. "Ruby's been on my case about that all week. Says you had nothing to do with it."
Ruby.
Askai guessed that must've been the redhead who had defended him that day. She seemed like she didn't belong to their flock. But the name sure rang some very alarming bells. But he had far greater concerns here.
He gave a short nod. "Then... we're good?" He meant it as a question. A peace offering. But the words landed wrong somehow.
Vance blinked once.
And then everything exploded.
He crossed the space between them like a shadow breaking free of the wall—sudden, silent, fast. Askai barely had time to flinch before fingers fisted in the front of his shirt and shoved him back into the wall with enough force to make the glass behind him rattle.
“You think?” Vance growled, voice low, vicious. “What the hell was that night? I turned around for a second and you were gone. Is that how we fucking treat people in Nolan these days?”
He smiled, but it never reached his eyes that seethed with anger.
Askai’s breath caught. He tried to speak, but Vance’s grip tightened.
“Did I force you?” Vance demanded but he did not wait for Askai to answer. “No! So why the fuck did you disappear like that?”
“I—I was drunk,” Askai managed, voice cracking slightly, recovering from the shock. “I didn’t know what—”
“Bullshit,” Vance snapped, cutting him off. “You didn’t even look drunk until you wanted to be. Don’t play me.” The words carried an edge of warning.
Askai’s back was pressed to the wall. He felt the full heat of Vance's body against him, the rage vibrating in every word. It was anger borne out of humiliation. Askai realized now what an affront his action must have looked like to a person like Vance. He would have fucking apologized the next morning like a peasant that he was if he had only known whom he had kissed.
“I’m not—I wasn’t playing anything—” Askai fumbled but regained his voice. “I am really sorry. I didn’t mean any insult to you. I didn’t even know who you were. You were there, we were in - ”
“Stop with - ”
“Just listen to me alright!” Askai’s patience momentarily slipped and realizing what he had done, his eyes widened to the size of saucers.
Vance's gaze turned murderous but Askai took advantage of his momentary shock and uttered quietly, "Please..."
He continued before Vance's action could follow the threat in his eyes. The man was clearly not used to being yelled at.
“We were in a moment. Then, the glass broke or something and the moment was gone. I realized I shouldn’t even be there in the first place. I was at a party that I wasn't invited to, where I crashed just to sell smoke! So when I heard someone coming, I freaked out. That was it.’
He waited for a reaction. Then, he added - “You can ask the guy whom you had bashed today. They would love to tell you how I invited myself to this party. I just needed some cash..’’
There was a stubborn glint in Vance’s eyes—sharp as a drawn blade—that warned Askai not to push any further into the fragile realm where reason lived. Life had taught him many bitter truths, the sharpest among them being that logic rarely held power against pride… and Vance’s pride was sure like a fortress no one breached without consequences.
Askai felt the shift the instant silence descended between them. He suddenly noticed the intimacy of how they stood, bodies almost brushing, breaths already merging in the narrow space that remained. Steel-grey eyes locked onto his, swirling with a heat he recognized far too well. Desire, yes—but also danger. The same magnetic pull that had devoured his caution last night tugged again, relentless and wicked.
God help him… he could not afford the same mistake twice.
Vance’s fingers slid up, gripping his chin with slow, claiming intent, tipping his face upward as though Askai existed solely to be examined by him.
“So,” Vance murmured, voice a velvet threat, “you don’t mind finishing what you started.”
“I did not start—”
“Think carefully.” The warning slithered from Vance’s tongue as his hand slid into Askai’s hair, the grip firm but nowhere near cruel. A promise more than a restraint.
He was too close. Far too close. Askai could feel the whisper of every breath Vance exhaled against his lips—cool spice and expensive control. The kind of scent that made you forget where the danger lay.
By contrast, Askai smelled of sweat, sun-baked pavement, and adrenaline. He was a creature of survival. Vance… was everything that hunted men like him.
Yes, taking the offer would be heavenly but kissing Vance was the same as stepping willingly into a wolf’s mouth. And Vance’s fists would serve him better than his longing ever could.
Askai shook his head, palms bracing firmly against the hard muscle beneath Vance’s tailored shirt. He pushed—more plea than force.
“Like I said,” he breathed, fighting for air and sanity, “the moment is gone.”
A bitter, mocking curve lifted Vance’s mouth.
“Or,” he murmured, eyes flicking down to Askai’s lips—hungry, unashamed—“have you finally realized that I am the same monster you were warning me about last night?”
“I did not…” Askai looked away, voice fraying, recalling his careless words from last night. What was he thinking?!!
“Liar.” The single word rolled from Vance’s mouth in a dark, husky tone that shivered down Askai’s spine like sinful promise.
His mind screamed warnings—run, survive, forget—but his body leaned in as though Vance were the very source of breath. Danger felt like salvation.
Vance’s arm tightened around Askai—not harsh but possessive, protective. He held him like something irreplaceable, like something he refused to lose despite not knowing how to keep.
There was something between them—some fragile vulnerability neither could name but both felt fiercely. It was a tether tied long before either of them understood its knots.
Last night, He had been dragged toward the silent shadow Askai hid in—as if drawn by instinct. And when he found him… he couldn’t walk away.
Just like now.
But then Askai’s hands pressed harder against his chest—a reminder of lines he wasn’t ready to cross—and Vance slowly loosened his hold, a reluctant retreat. No point in scaring him off too soon.
After all, Vance Regale always got what he wanted. And he knew, with bone-deep certainty…Askai would be no exception.
