Chapter Text
Hoseok sucked his teeth as he contemplated Feijun’s cash flow for the last month. Yoongi eyed him silently but said nothing—which was pretty routine for the other alpha. Things were a little shaky right now because of the OAEA, but hopefully, once everything settled down, business would bounce back.
The workers had been complaining to him lately at the lack of customers. How were they supposed to make a living without clients? How were they supposed to secure a mating as a harem or house omega without alphas to entice?
Well . . . most of the workers had voiced their displeasure, he thought. There was one that was silent, but then, Park Jimin had always stood apart from the others. There had always been an otherness about the omega, as though he had no business being a stripper in a seedy pleasure house.
Though, one only had to see Jimin dance, to know that that was what he was meant to do. His movements were poetry in motion, designed to entice, but never quite became obscene. Hobi enjoyed watching Jimin dance. He enjoyed the omega’s sweet scent, his pretty face, and slender but supple body. He also enjoyed the younger man’s work ethic—his adherence to some rather old fashioned rules of common courtesy, and his tenaciousness.
What he didn’t enjoy was the distinct lack of interest from the omega.
Park Jimin was one of the most popular dancers in at Feijun, but he also made nearly the least amount of money. Alphas came there to not only watch but also touch and be touched. His workers were usually able to secure a cushy life for themselves within a harem. He encouraged such things as it ensured fresh blood and talent moving through the doors of his many establishments.
For all but Park Jimin.
The omega had been there nearly four years, far longer than any of the other dancers. Hoseok had wanted him since their first meeting, but he’d never said anything—how could he? He’d assumed that the omega would find a well-off alpha and disappear, but Jimin hadn’t. He was still there, and every day Hoseok saw his unmarked throat was another day he spent thinking about all the things he wanted to do to—and with—Park Jimin. Hobi was mentally proud of himself that not all of those things involved sex.
Because sometimes . . . sometimes he was able to just talk to the omega . . . and it was nice.
Jimin was so guarded with most alphas as well as with the other dancers. They saw his stunning beauty and the alphas panting after him, and while they benefited from Jimin’s disinterest in mating, they still occasionally passed snide comments about Jimin thinking he was too good for their customers.
At the end of the day, the pretty omega was too good for the rowdy alphas that pawed at their employees. Jimin had seen so much ugliness while working at Feijun, but somehow, he was seemingly unaffected. He was still kind, and the jaded dead-eyed look that so many of the other workers had, never seemed to touch the omega.
Hobi had known that his time with the younger man was limited. Jimin wasn’t exactly the most forthcoming of omegas when it came to his personal life, but he’d never been able to hide how pleased he was when he did well in one of his classes.
His Jimin was a stripper paying his way through college.
It would have been such a cliché, except that in reality, that kind of thing just didn’t happen. Omegas driven to this kind of job, did so because they had nothing else—nothing but their bodies to sell. Jimin had been the same in the beginning, but as time had gone on, it was clear that he’d gotten a routine and a support system firmly in place.
And he was about to graduate . . . and Hoseok would lose him.
That support system, though . . . Who was the person that was taking care of Park Jimin? The omega swore that he had a mate, and he turned down every other alpha who offered a mating. Hoseok had watched wealthy, famous, and powerful alphas offer the world to the younger man. But Jimin only smiled and thanked them—telling them how flattered he was that they’d even consider mating with him.
Park Jimin . . . An enigma of an omega. He was unmarked, but there was someone. Hobi had overheard the omega speaking on the phone a few weeks back.
“Kookie, I promise I’ll quit as soon as I have my diploma. It’s only another month. We’ll go on a trip, the three of us. We’ll go to Jeju Island for a few days and lay on the beach.”
Hoseok let out a baleful breath as he remembered Jimin’s words. “Kookie . . .” he murmured aloud. Was that the name of Jimin’s non-existent mate? And he’d said there were three of them . . .
Yoongi looked up from his tablet again. “You want a cookie?” he asked with a raised brow.
Hoseok blinked at the question before meeting the other man’s gaze. “What?”
The shorter alpha raised a brow. “You just said cookie, and then you looked all pissy. I told you not to stuff yourself on those—”
The alpha rolled his eyes. “Not cookie. Kookie,” he said in exasperation. “It’s someone’s name.”
“Who’s name?”
Hoseok shrugged. “Fuck if I know.”
His older mate’s brow furrowed. “I feel like there’s something missing.”
Hobi sighed, his thoughts returning to the dilemma at hand. “I think this Kookie is Park Jimin’s mate.”
Yoongi’s somewhat blank face never shifted as he contemplated Hoseok’s words. “Park Jimin?” he echoed considering, before finally seeming to remember. “The omega at your main club?”
Hoseok tilted his head. “The same,” he said, only somewhat surprised that Yoongi even knew who Park Jimin was. Most omegas—hell most people—didn’t really register with Min Yoongi.
The other alpha blinked. “Didn’t think any of them had mates,” Yoongi said thoughtfully before adding, “Can’t think of a single alpha that would allow their omega to dance and sleep with other people.”
Hobi chewed on his lip, reciting one of the few things he knew to be true about Park Jimin. “Jimin doesn’t sleep with anyone—he never has, but he doesn’t carry any mating marks—he doesn’t smell like an alpha. Seems like he only says he’s mated to get others off his back.”
The other man looked away for a second, thinking over his words before looking back up and answering. “Maybe his mate is a beta,” Yoongi suggested. “Alphas respect other alphas, but many of them wouldn’t take no for an answer if the mate is a beta.”
Hoseok rolled the idea around in his mind. The thought had occurred to him, of course, but . . . “The scent on him—the extra one that he does carry . . . it’s not a beta scent, either. It’s omega—probably a roommate or something.”
Yoongi shrugged. “That still does not discount a beta mate—most of them carry virtually no scent. And there are scent blockers out there, and that—along with a thorough shower—could completely erase the existence of a beta.”
Hoseok looked away irritably.
The smaller alpha let out an amused sound. “That being said,” he began, his tone reasonable. “If he is unmated, then why would he turn you—and every other alpha—down? I remember him now. One of the prettier ones you’ve had working for you—and he’s worked for you for a while—longer than any of your other dancers . . . and you’re telling me he doesn’t take any of the offers that come his way? The only reason anyone does that is because they have something better waiting for them at home.”
Hoseok gritted his teeth, ignoring the logic behind the statement. “If there’s no alpha, then there’s no reason not to put him forward as a choice.”
Yoongi tilted his head benignly, allowing Hoseok the dignity of avoiding the argument about the beta. “Our head alpha needs more from his mates than a pretty face, though,” he said, switching gears. “They need a head for business.”
Hoseok snorted, thinking over the rather dense list of demands that their head alpha had come up with. “The boss’s little experiment with that beta woman has blown up in his fucking face, just like I knew it would. That boujee little trollop couldn’t even wait for the bite before she started spending our pack’s money.”
The older man was unimpressed. “That trollop, as you call her, had no intention of joining this pack and you know it.”
He couldn’t have hidden his disgust over the situation, even if he had wanted to. “She got what she wanted though, didn’t she?” he asked rhetorically, still feeling quite sour about having to clean up after the beta. “Jennie was practically seething with jealousy. Lisa used the boss to snag the alpha she really wanted.”
“You know how Joon is,” the other alpha said with a shrug. “He likes to wind us all up just to see what we do. A beta is no different, but trust me, if he really thought she was a viable choice, he would have given her the bite beforehand. He knew something was up.”
Hobi shook his head, his tone derisive as he responded. “He shouldn't have given her the time of day to begin with. He did it just to fuck with me. He didn’t do it to wind her up—he did it to wind me up.”
Yoongi watched him impassively. There was no arguing that point, because none of them—except maybe Jin—could really predict what was going on inside the screwed up head of Kim Namjoon.
“Why do you think this omega would somehow pass Namjoon’s little tests?” Yoongi asked after a few seconds.
Hobi pulled his phone out. He wasn’t proud of what he’d done, but he didn’t regret using his key to get into Jimin’s locker while the omega was on stage. Jimin occasionally told him what classes he was taking, or if he did particularly well on a test or class, but words meant little to their head alpha. Hobi had pictures and proof that Jimin would be a valuable addition to their pack.
“He’s about to graduate—business management,” he said, handing over the phone with the photos of Jimin’s school documents. “He’s also familiar with our organization—with us.”
The smaller alpha took the phone, looking over the transcript. “Doesn’t hurt that he’s stunningly gorgeous,” Yoongi added knowingly, even as he raised a brow in consideration of the classes and grades. None of them had even attempted college, except for Seokjin, and while Namjoon didn’t hold their lack of education against any of them, he’d made it clear that he was looking for a new mate with a different skill set. “His hair still teal?”
Hoseok grimaced. “He dyed it black a week or two ago.”
Jimin had always kept his hair at least one color of the rainbow. For him to dye it black . . . it meant he was intending to go somewhere that would not look as kindly on the ostentatious display.
Yoongi nodded “You seem to genuinely like Park Jimin. What makes him any different than the thousand other omegas that work in your clubs?”
Hobi’s lips thinned, hating himself for his answer. “He’s . . . a good person.”
The other alpha’s eyes widened. “Then why the fuck would you want to put him in Namjoon’s cross-hairs? He breaks people.”
Hoseok shook his head quickly. “I wouldn’t let him do that to Jimin.”
“Just like you wouldn’t let him do it to me?” his older mate asked with a derisive snort. “Or even yourself? Tell me, five years ago, would you have even considered letting someone who was a ‘good person’ anywhere near Namjoon?” Yoongi asked, and when Hoseok didn’t answer, he plowed on. “No? He’s twisted you and everyone else. You want this omega, and you don’t give a shit what Namjoon will do to him as long as you can have him too.”
Hobi bared his teeth, an angry snarl escaping him. “So what? Why can’t I have what I want? I’ve given in to him every single time. It’s my turn to get something that I want.”
Yoongi’s gaze was impassive. “He’ll change—just like the rest of us did. The omega won’t be the person you . . . you fell in love with.”
Hobi’s eyes shut, and he turned away. “I don’t know if I love him, but I know that . . . I need him. I’m so tired of this—tired of everything.”
The older alpha was silent for a few beats before replying. “You should talk to Park Jimin. Give him the opportunity to make a choice—something we never got.”
Hoseok looked back at the other alpha, thoughts and emotions swirling inside him. Things had been tense lately. Namjoon was as overbearing and controlling as ever, and it seemed like the entire pack was walking on pins and needles waiting for a blow out that might end up with one or more of their mates in the hospital.
It was . . . unusual for there to be more than two alphas in a pack, and even then, the alphas were usually surrounded by an extensive harem with soothing omega and beta pheromones easing the violent tendencies.
Bangtan didn’t have any omegas. Namjoon had such high standards that it had been hard to find someone who would be a good fit with their pack. Jimin would fit in, though. Hoseok was certain of it. Namjoon was unlikely to be too possessive of the omega, which meant Hobi would be the alpha that Jimin would most rely on.
He wanted to be that alpha for Jimin. He wanted the pretty omega to look only at him.
When did you become such a shitty person? he wondered to himself, but in his heart, he knew the answer. He’d always been a shitty person. He was the kind of person that felt no remorse when he’d used a lead pipe to beat one of Namjoon’s former associates to death.
He was the kind of person that had taken money from alphas, on more than one occasion, to spike the drinks of the omegas that stupidly walked about unattended in his clubs. He was the kind of person that a sociopath like Kim Namjoon would find attractive enough to force a mating.
Hoseok was also the kind of person that, if he hadn’t had the mating bond hanging around his neck like a chain . . . he would have taken Park Jimin for himself years ago.
This imaginary alpha of Jimin’s . . . Hoseok found that he cared less and less about this ephemeral idea of Jimin’s mate . . . and if the man did, in fact, exist . . .
Hobi tilted his head as he remembered the screams of other men that he’d killed.