C4 - Soul-ed Mate

Both men step outside to let me dress. It only takes a moment to slip my pants and shirt in place. I use the privacy to gather my composure. I can’t believe I told Yoongi about that time with my dad.

‘And then he was the one who disgraced your family name.’

Maybe it’s crazy to stand by my father, but I’m all he has left. Bedridden, barely able to breathe. He raised me from the moment my mother died. If I were to abandon him, he’d die. Whether from his injuries or from men coming to finish the job.

I put my hands to my cheeks, feeling lingering heat. How will I face Min Yoongi now that he knows my secrets?

Except I need to confront him to find out if he sent the men to my house yesterday. Part of me wants to believe that he wouldn’t do that, but the timing is too coincidental.

And he has the most motive to want my father dead.

Taking a deep breath, I open the door and step into the small hallway. It’s darker than I remember, darker than it was in the dreamlike bedroom, and I blink while my eyes adjust.

I realize that someone has turned off the overhead light in the hall. And I’m not alone.

“Yoongi?” I say, my voice wavering slightly.

A low laugh fills the space, darker and with more grit than I expect.

“He went downstairs,” says an unfamiliar voice.

Fear spikes in my chest.

“Oh. I’ll go look for him.”

“You should be running the other way.”

I take a step toward the stairs, backing away. I know that Yoongi isn’t safe. He has a reason to hurt me. But something about this man makes my blood turn to ice.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say, squinting to make out his features.

All I can see is pale hair and pale eyes.

“In fact, you ought to be running far away. The Park family isn’t welcome in this city anymore. Or haven’t you figured that out yet?”

Old loyalty sparks anger inside me. “I’m very aware of my family’s standing in Daegu. That’s the reason I’m in this mess.”

“Sex for money. I guess it’s more honest work than your Dad did, but just as dirty.”

I flinch in the darkness. Something in his voice sounds personal.

“What do you know about what my Dad did?”

“Your father stole from Min Yoongi, and nobody gets away with that. That’s why he got knocked down. But Yoongi wasn’t the only person he stole from.”

And all those men would want to hurt my dad.

“He isn’t stealing from anyone anymore.”

In the shadows I see a broad shoulder shrug.

“Doesn’t make people whole again, does it? Though I suppose if they had you in their beds, taking the money out on your skin, that might make them feel better.”

Fear is a finger down my spine, making my whole body shudder. I spin away from him and fly down the wooden stairs, heart pounding wildly. Part of me expects him to follow, and I speed up in anticipation of a hand on my shoulder, a fist in my hair. Then I’m in the wide foyer, warmly lit by lamps along the wall.

Safe.

Except safety is only an illusion when I’m in the Inferna. Yoongi waits for me in the cozy leather chair where Taehyung was sitting last time. There’s a glass in his hand, half-full, and he watches me with an unreadable expression. I meant to question him carefully, but all my caution has evaporated.

“Did you send someone to my house last night?”

For a moment he’s so still I think he hasn’t heard me. Then he leans forward, setting the glass on the table.

“Someone came to your house?”

Of course, a man like him would be an accomplished liar. I have to be smarter than him. Except if he did send someone, what could I do about it? The police were useless.

“I surprised him when he was tampering with my electrical box. He left before the police came. Was it you?”

He speaks slowly, as if wondering the answer himself. “Why would I tamper with your electrical box?”

The shame of undressing upstairs mixes with my fear of the unnamed man. Something inside me snaps, pooling tears in my eyes.

“To scare me. To hurt me. For the same reason you turned my father in.”

His expression darkens. “Your father stole from me.”

“Did you get your money back?” I ask tightly.

“No, but it wasn’t about that. I made an example out of him.”

My heart squeezes as I remember my dad’s rasping breath. “Right, except I’m the one giving up my friends, my future. I’m the one who’s going to be auctioned off.”

He frowns. “Did you get a look at the man’s face?”

“He was wearing a hoodie.”

I did get a feel for his build, his short physique and his gait. Could he have been Min Yoongi? Could he have been the man upstairs? The man upstairs was tall and broad. Even if he wasn’t either of them, he could have been sent by them.

“Someone will guard the house tonight,” he says casually as if I should take his innocence for granted.

He’s anything but innocent.

“If he comes back, we’ll catch him.”

My eyes narrow. “Why would you do that for me?”

One dark eyebrow rises. “Taehyung is going to make a lot of money on your auction. He’s going to want to protect his investment.”

Of course. I have become a product. My security would be a safe around a diamond, meant to keep me away from other men. Only, the most dangerous men in the city have the combination.

It isn’t protection at all.

It’s a cage.

I leave without another word, stomach tight until I’m back in my house with the door locked. I take a shower, trying to wash away the shame of their gazes on my skin, the light touch of Yoongi’s hands on my arms.

No matter how hard I scrub, I can still feel him.

!!~~~~!!

Over the days since my father came home from the hospital, I’ve fallen into a routine. I check my father’s vitals in the morning and change his bedding, which he mostly sleeps through.

Then at midday I come and bring him lunch. That’s the best chance I have to catch him awake. He can only handle liquids—warm soup and cold pudding. Sometimes he can stomach a few bites.

At school my major was classical studies with a focus on ancient mythology, especially Greek. It was fascinating for me. By the time I fall onto my mattress every night, my muscles are sore.

My body is tired, but my mind remains stubbornly awake—running over every weekly chess game of my childhood, every hour of the trial, every excruciating second of the breakup with Namjoon.

Since I met Yoongi yesterday, I have something new to obsess about. After dressing in boxers and tanks, my usual sleep clothes, I glance outside the window. A gleaming black SUV sits on the curb in plain sight. My heart lurches.

What if someone’s come back?

Except the car isn’t hidden at all. And when I squint, I can make out the silhouette of a man inside. Kim Taehyung must have sent him.

He’s going to want to protect his investment.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. From across the room my phone blinks a green light at me.

A voicemail.

I reach for it with shaking fingers, not sure whether I want to hear from Taehyung. He couldn’t have set up the auction that quickly, could he? I press the phone to my ear. My blood goes cold for a different reason as I hear Jo Yunhyuk’s voice.

“My dear little Jimin. I understand that you were shocked by my proposal. I realize now that you need time to process the change. I was surprised to discover that you had grown into such a beautiful omega. I confess that I had considered our union before these unfortunate events, but I feared that you would never see me as more than your dear Uncle Yunhyuk. I can be patient during this difficult time and trust that you’ll make the right decision.”

My dinner threatens to come up, and I toss the phone across the bare wood floors. It’s harder to bear his patience because I don’t know if I’m making the right choice. I can’t bring myself to accept him, to bind myself to him for life, even though that might make things easier for me. I also can’t bring myself to give up this house, the only remnant of my mother.

What would she tell me to do if she were here?

How would my life have been different if she were alive?

I would have had someone to talk to when I feel lonely. Someone to teach me. About sex.

Touch yourself.

Yoongi’s words come back to me in a sensual rush, my heart pounding. He didn’t mean it, did he? It’s just some stupid, taunting thing he said to get the right picture. And if he did mean it, it’s not like I have to listen to him. He’s a horrible man.

Except I find myself reaching for the sheet even though it’s a warm night. I’m alone in the house with the doors locked. There’s a man outside watching to make sure no one tampers with the electricity again. My dad is asleep, attached to his hospital bed, unable to walk in on me if he woke up.

When you’re in bed, alone. In the dark. Lock the door if you need to.

Still, I pull the sheet over my body. The thin layer of fabric is my shield from the fear, from the shame that burns inside me. I want to pretend I never heard his words, to act like they don’t matter.

No one will walk in on you.

Except if I can’t even touch myself, how can I let some man touch me? If I have never had an 0rgasm, how can I expect some stranger to give me one?

He might not give me pleasure, but it would be even worse if he did. I imagine being helpless in the arms of some cold, distant alpha wo isn’t my mate. He would own me.

I can’t give someone that power over me, not even for money. I start by touching my nipples because that feels less scary. They’re warm and firm, my nipples already hard from thinking about this.

I close my eyes while my fingers toy with my nipples. They are little zings of pleasure, in my chest, pulsation in my dick, but not enough. Not enough to cum.

Touch yourself and make yourself feel good. You remember how to do that, don’t you?

I never made myself cum, but I remember where I liked to rub my body. My palms run across my stomach, down to my panties. I spread my legs, taking deep breaths. The conditioning runs deep with me.

There’s already a faint prickle, the long-ago memory of cuts and burns, when I tested it against my cock. For a horrible moment I hear my father’s voice telling me that I’m dirty, that I’m a disgrace to the family.

And I realize that it’s not just about some stranger owning me. My father owns me. All these years he’s kept me from my own body.

So, is Yoongi giving it back?

Or is he taking the reins?

I imagine his golden eyes watching me, knowing and sure. My shaft pulsate in response. There’s something dangerous about the Alpha with golden eyes. It’s not only what he did to my family, not only the harm to my father. There’s a threat inherent in him, like a lion stalking his prey. It’s mesmerizing even while it terrifies me.

There’s an ache, a feeling of tightness whenever I think about him. The dark hair long enough to curl at the ends. The chiselled jawline that is way too sharp. The shoulders that suit a man of power.

My body responds even if my heart shrinks in fear. It’s sickening, but God, so damned welcome. I’m tired of clenching my hands against my impulses, so tired of being ashamed.

My hands are clumsy as they hold my shaft, remembering how to stroke myself, finding where to press harder. I have to follow a pace it, and a sort of haze lowers over my mind. My other hand finds purchase backwards against my clenching hole.

As soon as I press my fingers around the puckered, my body jolts in shock. A wave of arousal hits me. Pleasure laps at my skin like gentle waves against the shore. I could do this forever, my both hands moving slowly first and in urgency later, my hips nudging up slightly.

There’s a sort of urgency. But it brought only peace. Then that stranger’s voice rises, unbidden, from the shadows of my mind.

I suppose if they had you in their beds, taking the money out on your skin, that might make them feel better.

It should scare me, but in this sex-drowsed state, with Yoongi, fresh in my mind, something else happens. Desire pulses through my body, a drop of liquid lust tickling my skin on its way down. It’s not hard to imagine him doing something daring.

Would he hurt me?

A powerful Alpha like Min Yoongi would never be gentle. Even his words are sharp. They cut me, leaving my pride in shards at his feet. His eyes slice to the core of me.

What would his hands do?

His mouth?

His cock?

Pressure builds in, and I stroke faster and faster. Harder, abusing the mushroom head, the veins bulging, scraping nails until my body shudders and shakes, mouth open in a silent scream. Liquid spills over my abdomen, threads of cum hits my navel, and pubic hair as my cock continues to pulse for eternity. In the aftermath my asshole feel stiff.

Pulling my hand up makes me blush. I rub them furtively on the sheets as if I’ll get caught with them, shiny and sex smelling in the dark.

“What are you doing to me?” I whisper to the hollow room.

I don’t know whether I’m talking to Yoongi or my father. I might as well be asking the question to myself.

How could I climax thinking of Min Yoongi?

How could I come imagining being hurt?

!!~~~~!!

The next morning I wake up to ringing of the doorbell. My heart leaps to my throat as I pull on a pair of jeans over my panties and tank top. In the bright light of day I’m more worried about some overzealous bill collector than a hooded man.

Real estate bills with arms and legs, standing as tall as a skyscraper, have invaded my dreams. I’m half expecting us to be evicted for some unknown bill before we even get to the auction. I open the door to a bright-eyed Hoseok, who’s holding up two steaming cups of coffee. “Good morning, sleepyhead!”

Embarrassment burns my throat like acid. He would have already seen the overgrown state of the yard. As soon as he comes inside, he’ll see the empty rooms where furniture used to be.

Even knowing he’ll find out the truth, I can’t help my joy at seeing him. I’ve been desperately alone since I came back from college. One by one all Daegu friends abandoned me.

I throw my arms around his neck, surprising us both by bursting into tears.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”

He squeezes me back. “Oh, Jimin. Tell me everything.”

Over his shoulder I spot a glossy black car with a man leaning against it, a cigarette in his mouth. He notices me looking and gives me a mock salute.

A shiver runs through me. “Let’s go inside.”

Sitting on the floor in the empty living room, sipping our soy chai lattes, I tell him about the horrible court dates, where reporters hounded us on the way up and down the marble steps. I tell him about the convictions, how my father seemed to age ten years overnight as the guilty verdicts rang out.

And I tell him about the horrible night I got a phone call from the police telling me my father was in the hospital.

Hoseok’s brown eyes fill with tears. “Jeez, Jimin. How could you try and keep all this to yourself? You’re too strong for your own good.”

It all felt like a nightmare, but when I speak the words aloud, they become real.

“I guess I was just taking it one day at a time. And for a while Dad tried to keep a brave face, telling me that he’d fix everything. But they were just words. And after the attack…the doctors say he’ll never really recover.”

“You aren’t coming back to school,” he says, and it isn’t a question.

I shake my head.

“There’s no way. Maybe someday in the future I can think about college again, but right now I have to focus on Dad. He needs me.”

He looks down, fiddling with the lid of his latte. “What are you going to do for money?”

Isn’t that the million-dollar question?

“I’m fine.”

“Is that your way of saying you’re totally fcuked?”

In more ways than one.

“I’m working on something, but I don’t have the details figured out yet.”

His eyes spark with curiosity.

“I’m going to let you off the hook—for now. Tell me what happened with Namjoon. You texted me that you broke up with him?”

Shame suffuses my cheeks as I remember all the times I told Hoseok how handsome Namjoon was, how perfect. “No, he broke up with me.”

He looks mystified. “But he was crazy about you.”

“Because of this whole mess. He said he wanted to be a senator one day, and he couldn’t be connected to the disgraced Park family if he was going to do that.”

A gasp.

“That bastard.”

I look away and swallow. “I guess I understand his point. I wouldn’t want to ruin his future, either. It’s not that he was my soulmate or anything.”

“You’re way too nice. He’s a dirty rat bastard.”

My cheeks burn as I share the most humiliating part.

“I got the impression I was only going to be a stepping stone anyway. That he never really cared about me. I guess that’s why he was okay waiting until marriage.”

Hoseok bites his lip, looking contemplative. “I don’t know about that. He was crazy about you, but he was always pretty spineless. I’m sure Papa Namjoon wasn’t too pleased about the scandal.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Spineless? You never said anything.”

“I mean he looked good in a tux, but he couldn’t make up his own mind about anything. He’s probably following in his dad’s footsteps because he couldn’t think of any original career path.”

I manage a wan smile. “Well, his senator-ship is safe and sound now.”

“He’ll regret it,” he says, sounding sure. “And you’re better off without him. You’ll find someone who cares about you for you—not for your family name.”

Maybe so, but how would that future man feel about how I’d lost my virginity?

Even if I tried to keep it a secret, people would talk about it. They’re paying an attendance fee just to find out my identity.

After the way the reporters circled my father’s court case, the entire auction might eventually be public knowledge. I’m not just giving up my college degree or my career. I might be giving up being in love, having a family.

Loneliness stretches out in front of me like a desert, Yoongi’s eyes burning like the sun. He may not be standing outside my house, but he could ask Taehyung what I’m doing. And he’s the one who orchestrated my family’s fall. He’s like a puppet master, moving me faster and faster until I come apart.

“Maybe it’s better that I’m not engaged. I can’t focus on anything as long as Dad’s sick.”

Dad needs so much care just to stay alive. I never realized how fragile life could be until I saw all the tubes and monitors attached to his frail body. “He needs me right now.”

“Don’t you have a nurse for him?”

“We have someone who comes to check his medicine. The doctor comes once a week. That’s all I can afford.”

Actually, I’m running out of money for that too.

“You’ve been the one feeding him? Changing him?”

“When he’s awake enough to eat.”

My stomach pitches as I remember holding in tears the last time I bathed him. It was almost worse that he was aware, feeling embarrassed that his omega son saw him at his vulnerability.

What choice did we have?

Compassion fills Hoseok’s eyes.

“I would help you, but Jerk Face still controls my trust fund.”

Hoseok was furious when his estranged father granted his stepbrother control in his will. He said it was to keep the money safe—and secretly I thought it might be for the best.

Minho is a buzzkill, but he makes sure all Hoseok’s bills got paid. Hoseok’s a bleeding heart, incredibly nice but lacking practicality of any kind. He would hand over the two-thousand-dollar designer jacket off his back if a homeless person looked cold.

“In a few years I’ll turn twenty-one and have control. I can help you then.”

In a few years my father might be dead, but I don’t tell him that. It’s not his problem.

“Don’t worry about us. Seriously, we’re fine. It’s hard right now, but it will get better.”

“Because you’re working on something.”

Nerves churn my stomach. I’m not even sure I could back out now if I wanted to. The man outside is keeping anyone from hurting me—considering I’m worth more to Kim Taehyung alive than dead.

What would the guard do if I tried to leave?

It doesn’t matter, because I can’t go anywhere with my father attached to the hospital bed.

“That’s right. Now tell me how long you’re here. I want to stay up late and talk about what you’ve been doing since I left.”

!~~~~!

For two blissful days Hoseok stays with me. He told his professor that his dog at home died, which seems like a horrible lie—and not very believable either—but he has a way of wrapping alphas around his little finger.

Except for his step-brother, Minho, unfortunately. We melt squares of butter to pour over popcorn and watch Rachael McAdams in The Notebook. There aren’t any other beds in the house, so we turn it into a sleepover and share my bed.

He even makes his grandmother’s recipe for clam chowder, which Dad declares is delicious. When a cab drives away with him Sunday afternoon, it feels like a cold splash of reality.

The house is larger and emptier now that he’s gone. After sharing the last of the chowder with Dad for lunch, I find some clippers in the tool shed. For the next hour I attack the wayward branches, taming the bushes along the front of the house.

They don’t look nearly as pretty as when we had landscapers, but that’s not the point. My hands have blistered when I finally drop the metal shears to the grass. I head inside, intent on a shower, when I hear the phone ring. Yunhyuk has called twice more while Hoseok was here, and if it’s him, I’m not going to answer.

The number is blocked, though, so I press the green Call button.

“Hello?”

“Park Jimin,” comes the pleased male voice.

Kim Taehyung.

I smooth my hair back as if he can see my wild-man appearance. I probably look like I’ve been hacking my way through the rain forest right now.

“Oh, hi Taehyung.”

Paper shuffles on the line. “Are you ready for the big night?”

I’ll never be ready.

“Do you have a date set?”

“This Saturday. The richest men in the city are panting to find out who that blissful Adonis ass with moon tattoo is.”

As soon as he mentions tattoos my hand inadeptly go to my back rubbing my nape.

“you there?” He asks.

“oh yeah. Yes I’m.”

There’s no hiding from his knowing voice on the other end of the phone, but I still duck into the pantry and shut the door. Shame burns hotly on my cheeks.

This Saturday.

“I guess t-that’s good.” I reply stuttering.

“That’s excellent, trust me.” Taehyung chimes.

“Said the spider to the fly.”

A low laugh. “This particular fly is going to get a very nice payday for his time in the web.”

I hope so or this would be pointless.

“I don’t mean to be indelicate but…”

My breath catches because I’ve been taught so strenuously never to mention money. Never to appear weak. I know I need to break those habits. I’m no longer the wealthy, privileged heir of one of the city’s most venerable businessmen.

But talking about money is still as hard as touching myself, forbidden for long enough to make it physically painful.

Oh God, this Saturday.

“How much money will you earn?” he says easily. “It depends on the tenor of the evening, how high we can push the bidding. I think you’re looking at a couple hundred thousand, at least.”

“A couple hundred…” My voice trails off, and I feel faint.

At one time those kinds of numbers wouldn’t have fazed me. There were savings accounts and investment funds galore. All of that has evaporated into nothing.

A couple hundred thousand dollars would pay the real estate bill several times over. I’d be able to keep the house and pay for a full-time nurse.

“Maybe more. We’ll have to play it by ear.” I can hear his smile over the phone. “Naturally I want my percentage to be as high as possible.”

“Naturally,” I say, still feeling faint.

I guess this is what hope feels like.

“And they won’t…they won’t hurt me?”

I can’t forget what the man said to me in the narrow hallway, about my father’s enemies taking recompense out of my skin. How much can I endure for a month?

Sex, definitely. But pain?

“Look, I won’t lie to you,” he says. “Some of the men attending dabble in some of the more…daring sexual activities, I’ll say. It’s a natural consequence of dealing with rich men, with too much time and money on their hands to be content with plain old vanilla.”

Does he count himself in that group?

Probably.

I press my hand to my eyes, trying not to imagine him doing things that are daring. I especially don’t want to imagine Min Yoongi doing anything at all.

“There have to be boundaries, right?”

“Of course. You’ll be the same omega coming out that you were going in. Nothing permanently harmed or changed. Except for one small portion of your anatomy.”

The air in the pantry seems to get thinner. “I see.”

“Don’t worry. Virginity is more rare around here than whips or chains could ever be. Hopefully you’ll keep them entertained for the whole month.”

“Whips and…chains?” My stomach clenches hard.

“Well, the auction begins at nine p.m. We’ll start the drinks flowing before that to make sure they’re loose with their wallets. You should arrive by six to get you ready.”

Three hours is a long time to get dressed.

“Are you sure I need—”

“I’m sure,” he says, almost cheerful. “I’ll see you then.”

The click over the line seals my fate.

!~~~~!!!!~~~~!