THE ALPHA KING'S HIDDEN OMEGA

The rapid tap-tap-tap of sneakers on wet pavement cut through the rain.

"Shit, shit, shit—"

Adrian ran harder, clothes plastered to his skin, lungs burning. The streets were empty; no cab would stop in this weather. By the time he shoved through the staff door of the club, water streamed off him in sheets.

He yanked his soaked shirt over his head on the way to the tiny changing room.

"Hospital again?"

Michelle's voice. He turned, already peeling off his wet pants. "I'm sorry. I stayed through the full chemo this time."

She only said, "You're up in five," and left.

​Adrian grabbed a towel, dried his skin and oiled up... no one wanted to spend their money on an ashy stripper.

​In a few minutes, Adrian was dressed in a sheer black net tank top that clung to his oiled chest and abs, paired with tight black pants that sat low on his hips.

​The thin mesh left almost nothing to the imagination under the stage lights, while the pants hugged every line of his legs. He ran a quick hand through his damp hair, checked himself once in the mirror.

​"Where is it?" he murmured, leaning down to pick up his wet pants.

​He slid his hand into the pocket and pulled out a small bottle of pills. Without hesitation, he popped two pills into his mouth, swallowing quickly.

​Yes, he was in the human realm, but it was no news that other creatures like werewolves, vampires and even witches crossed over for fun or business.

​He can't risk his unwanted omega scent attracting trouble for him. With no time left to spare, he left the room, walking through a short hallway filled with other strippers rushing about their jobs.

​He slowed his steps, standing behind the stage door, waiting for his best friend to finish and clear the stage.

​"Adrian," Someone tapped his shoulder behind him.

​He turned... it was Michelle.

​"I'm on time, Michelle, I'm about heading out–"

​"No need," Michelle cut him off.

​"No need?" He asked in confusion.

​She pressed a flat card into his hand, "VIP, room 10," Michelle said.

​Adrian's eyes widened, "Really?" He almost jumped on his feet in excitement, "Thank you, boss. You're the best." He clenched his hand around the card and hurried toward the VIP section.

​It wasn't every night he performed there, but the nights he did, he was sure to get a load of cash.

​He reached room 10 in no time, taking a deep breath before scanning the card and pushing the door open.

​Warm golden light washed over him the moment he stepped inside.

​'Vampires,' he immediately noted.

​Their skin was so pale and glowing he could not miss it.

​But, he would rather a vampire than one of his evil species.

​Soft jazz already hummed low from hidden speakers. On the wide red leather sofa, two women and two men lounged comfortably, crystal glasses of dark wine in their hands, conversation pausing the second the door clicked shut.

​The women turned first. Their eyes lit up instantly, mouths curving into hungry, delighted smiles.

​"There he is," one of them purred, her voice silky. She set her glass down and rose slowly, hips swaying as she gestured toward the small raised platform in the center of the room. "Come on, handsome. The stage is waiting."

​The second woman laughed softly, already pulling a thick wad of bills from her clutch. "We've been waiting for you."

​Adrian's pulse quickened. He closed the door behind him and walked forward with deliberate, unhurried steps, letting them look their fill. The net tank top clung to his oiled skin; every muscle shifted under the thin mesh as he climbed onto the low stage.

​The music shifted—slower, heavier, a deep bass that matched the roll of his hips. He started moving, rolling his body in long, controlled waves, hands sliding over his own chest and down his stomach.

​The two women left the sofa almost at once, heels clicking softly against the floor as they approached the edge of the stage. One by one they began placing folded wads of cash along the platform, then higher—tucking bills against their own chests, right at the swell of their cleavage, eyes locked on his.

​Adrian dropped lower, knees bending, torso rolling forward until his face hovered near the first woman's chest. He parted his lips and carefully took the edge of the cash between them, drawing the money free with a slow pull while his eyes stayed on hers. She shivered and laughed, already reaching for another bill.

​The second woman offered hers next, leaning in closer, the scent of perfume and wine mixing with the heat of the room as Adrian repeated the motion, lips brushing the soft curve of her skin just enough to claim the money.

​Behind them the two men watched in silence, amused and interested, refilling their glasses while Adrian continued to dance—body fluid, controlled, taking every offered bill with his mouth as the women kept coming back for more.

​It continued for a few more minutes, and finally, it was time to end.

​"Oh, my! The boy is fire," one of the women chuckled, crossing her legs as she sat down.

​He busied himself in stacking his cash into a small backpack as they chatted behind him.

​"I'm in a fix. I promised my patient I'd find him a professional masseur," one of the men said.

​Adrian immediately paused, his ears perking up.

​A professional masseur? He was right there.

​But then, they were not allowed to speak to clients, so he minded his business.

​"Ohh, you mean that client?" The second woman asked slowly.

​"Yeah... that client. I'm desperate, and we all know what happens if I fail to deliver," the man said. "I've put out ads, but not even the 10k for a night could convince anyone to go to him," he sighed.

​Now, that had Adrian pausing completely.

​$10k for just one night of massage? That was like a full week of chemo and something to offer those loan sharks and get them off his back for a minute.

​"Perhaps we can help you search, but I can't promise –"

​"I'll do it," Adrian blurted out, interrupting their conversation.