Page 98 of Rogue & Her Hunters
I think by the way he ducks his head that he has accidentally given away more about his genuine past than he intended.
Sometimes that happens when you’re undercover.
A Companion is an Omega or Beta orphan or abused child taken into the system who are given as a ward to an Alpha Guardian. They are usually taken into a family for their academic skill (or in Joker’s case, probably his swimming talent, if he’s being truthful about that), to support the Alpha.
Yet Companions are no more than an indentured servant with no right to own anything. They are the property like I was in my pack.
How did this Beta escape the role of Companion?
Did he run? Is that how he became an outlaw?
My respect for Joker increases.
This mission is becoming tougher.
I clench my jaw.
Focus.
I remember the rule that was taught to me by my Adonis instructors:Never become emotionally attached to a mark.
I lick over my lips, prowling toward Joker. “Do you know what I want, Jokes?”
I allow my pheromones to deepen and fog the room in a thick miasma. It would drop an Omega to their knees. A Beta, however, won’t be as susceptible.
Joker still staggers, tumbling backward onto the bed. “W-w-what?”
“A pretty Beta.”
Joker scrambles back on the bed with a laugh. “You have to catch me first.”
I growl. “Abratty, pretty Beta.”
I launch myself onto the bed after Joker, pinning him by his neck. His chest is rising and falling. When he moves to flip me, I stop him by applying just enough pressure on his throat to be a warning.
Joker’s eyes darken with pleasure. “Do you do this often? Bring innocent Betas to your hotel room to ravish?”
So, he’s still going with theinnocentline?
This seduction routine must be successful for Joker, but I am not most Alphas.
Instead, I lean down, flexing my hand at his throat. “All the better towreckyou, Little Beta.”
Joker’s eyes widen, before he grins playfully. “My what a big, bad Alpha you are. What ever shall I do?”
“Shut up,” I bark.
It’s sharp enough to cause him to snap his mouth shut in shock.
I’m not playing games any longer.
He’s now my prey.
I straddle Joker’s waist, before I drag his arms above his head, and he eagerly allows me to.
He doesn’t even struggle, when with the speed I learned with my sleight of hand, I pull down the hidden handcuffs from the wooden headboard and snap them around his wrists.
Instead, Joker wriggles underneath me, as if he is making himself comfortable. “Kinky.”
