Preparing to leave for Japan, Daniel did not do missionary work, but he could not paint anymore, either - it seemed to him that every picture he painted was a Hans and Gretel crumb, only it would not lead him to home, but would lead the monster to him. He was not leaving the apartment, awaiting his flight, gazing longingly at carefree pedestrians rushing somewhere, unaffected by circumstances the way he was. While everyone else seemed to possess a certain confidence in the future, nurtured by family, school, and work, he found himself firmly entrenched in a profound anticipation of horror, harboring no illusions about what "tomorrow" might hold. Tomorrow could be Vincent, unpredictable as any psychopath, he could caress him, or he could beat him to death. He was going to live his life as a nomad, migrating from country to country-people like Vincent don't forget an insult.
The doorbell rang, and Daniel shuddered, covered in a sticky film of sweat from the rush of fear, tiptoed to the door, peered through the peephole, and breathed a sigh of relief - there stood a frail courier in a brown UPS uniform, looking like an omega. Daniel laughed faintly to himself - he'd gotten to the point where he was afraid of his own shadow, he had to get a grip on himself right away, or he'd end up in a mental institution in Japan. But he didn't open the door straightaway and asked cautiously, “Who are looking for?”
“Hello," the delivery man stared through the peephole, chewing gum loudly, and said, "I have a delivery for Mr. Daniel Bell from..." he dug into the delivery note and read it loudly, “Walmart, it says "For Japan."
“OK,” Daniel gratefully remembered Elder Smith, who had apparently decided to give him a parting gift, only he'd chosen the cheapest store out of his stinginess. Amused, Daniel pictured a box filled with practical little items, each priced at $1.99, and opened the door with a smile. The delivery guy's innocent expression vanished instantly as he stepped aside, making way for two men—Adrian and another alpha. They swiftly covered Daniel's mouth and inserted a syringe needle into his neck. Despite managing a muffled cry into the palm of his hand, Daniel immediately staggered and fell into their grasp.
With a pounding head, he awoke in the car, lifting his hands to his throbbing temples and groaning in discomfort. His gaze fell on his wrists, tightly bound with a zip tie. Staring at Adrian seated beside him, a surge of hatred washed over Daniel as he recalled and comprehended everything in an instant. Daniel kicked Adrian in the knee. Adrian yelped, seized Daniel's legs with his powerful hands, squeezed them painfully and hissed:
Either you get those papers for me, or you become an accomplice in the case, and I'll ensure it happens. Your Mormon community won't hesitate to disown you; trust me, they won't tolerate felons. So, forget about escaping; you're returning to your fiancée."
“He's going to kill me, don't you understand, you idiot?” Daniel hissed, wriggling his body, trying to get at least his legs free.
"He won't, believe me," Adrian grinned with malice, released his legs and took out a butterfly knife. "Here's your choice: either drive to L.A. without attempting an escape or ride around in the trunk. What's your decision?"
“You're an asshole, Adrian," Daniel hissed, setting his wrists to the knife fearlessly. “It's a lousy choice, but I'd rather be awake than drugged. Nice methods the FBI uses: blackmail, kidnapping, drugs!”
"Oh, believe me, Daniel, you don't want to discover the entirety of our methods," Adrian skillfully severed the zip tie, and Daniel began massaging his wrists, gazing somberly out the window.
Adrian no longer evoked fear, even after audaciously kidnapping him from his home and administering drugs. In comparison to the genuine threat posed by Vincent, Adrian seemed like a harmless mosquito—irritating but not lethal. There was even a certain level of admiration for Adrian's unwavering commitment to the cause; Daniel, being a fervent art enthusiast himself, could appreciate the dedication of other fanatics. With little time left to live, Daniel accepted his fate, hoping that Vincent's initial strike would render him unconscious, sparing him from feeling pain, and the subsequent blow would bring an end to his life. Daniel mirthlessly chuckled at the grim prospect of a swift death, a dead-end in life that had begun so beautifully.
They encountered each other in the most mundane manner possible—at a charity event that Daniel attended reluctantly, dragged along by a patron who insisted on the occasional social appearance. Daniel scowled at his reflection, standing amidst the patron's other proteges, indulging in the complimentary champagne, determined to salvage whatever he could from the ruined evening. Perhaps due to the influence of the alcohol, the dark-haired, broad-shouldered alpha with a charismatic yet predatory visage, not conforming to the conventional gold standard, caught Daniel's interest for some inexplicable reason. The alpha reminded him of his favorite Michelangelo, possessing deep-set dark eyes, a prominent nose, and pronounced cheekbones. The alpha, appearing somewhat bored, gracefully traversed the hall, exchanging greetings with acquaintances and fulfilling social obligations to the community without much enthusiasm. However, when his eyes fell on Daniel, he assumed a hunting stance and his face, with its sharply defined features, suddenly transformed, lighting up for Daniel, who found himself captivated while staring at him. In that moment, Daniel saw no one else; the face stood in a blurred halo, rapidly approaching him.
“I've never seen anyone prettier in my life," the alpha exhaled instead of the usual greeting and polite "how do you like the reception?".
And Daniel exhaled with admiration, swaying slightly, “You're so ugly, you seem incredibly attractive.”
The Alpha chuckled heartily, unfazed by the peculiar phrase, casually taking the half-empty glass from Daniel's suddenly awakened fingers and whispered, “I think somebody's had enough. What's your name, baby?”
"Daniel..." He drawled and corrected, "Daniel Bell. What's yours?"
"Vincent Laurent. Let’s get out of here," Vincent said, placing his arm around Daniel's waist and guiding him confidently toward the exit, without a hint of uncertainty in his expectation of compliance.
Vincent took him as they entered the elevator in the very building hosting the fundraiser, having sent his bodyguards away, who were reluctant to leave him alone with Daniel. Hitting the stop button with his hand, a long groan from his mouth, tearing sharply at the suspenders fastening the pants of his rented tuxedo- Daniel pulled Vincent toward him in the same unrestrained desire, pulling down the zipper of his trousers, trying to remove the annoying barrier that prevented them from blending. With no one had Daniel experienced such intense desire, urging him to surrender completely, to bite until blood was drawn, marking the other as his alpha. The strong hands him as the hard cock penetrated until it hurt, Daniel moaned with relief, wrapping his arms and legs around Vincent, kissing until the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth, moaning with the forceful thrusts, surrendering his senses to the intoxicating pleasure, and orgasming as he submitted his neck obediently to the bite, recognizing Vincent as his alpha.
