Page 41 of Rogue & Her Hunters
Gianna is wrong.Because I have brought Seventy-one out of his coma.
Me.
My pheromones wrap around my Omega even more strongly in my delight and desperation not to allow him to fall back asleep.
I need to keep Seventy-one with me with a desperation that makes me uncomfortable. I’ve never allowed myself to need anyone like this before, even Mars.
It’s a vulnerability, and those are dangerous. They can be exploited by my enemies.
Yet I can’t help myself. I’d make myself weak for this Omega, and that terrifies me.
The beautiful Omega snuggles closer to me like he hasn’t just woken up in a cell with a strange Alpha washing him.
An Alpha who could tear out his throat in a fraction of a second.
Seventy-one blinks, drowsily. “You smell like an angel too: toffee and coffee. My favorites. Plus, it rhymes.” I puff out mychest.My Omega loves my scent.“I knew that heaven would be incredible.”
“You’re not dead.” My tone sharpens. “I just spent a week saving you. You’re not allowed to die.”
Seventy-one’s nose wrinkles. “Bossy angel.” He still sounds half-asleep. Then he takes a deep sniff of my neck, licking down it. I shiver. Shit, that feels amazing. I clench my hand around the cloth. “If I’m not dead, then this is a nice dream. My delicious scent match. I wish this was real.”
“Where were you before?”
Is it kind to interrogate someone who is rising out of a coma? A patient who thinks that they’re dreaming?
Nope.
But efficiency saves your life more than kindness.
“The Omega Hotel.” Seventy-one’s mouth twists with sadness. My stomach sinks. “The Alphas from the model agency were using me in their rut. They weren’t brutal. They were gentle, feeding me Gatorade and my favorite chocolate. But I was just so tired. I’m always tired. I hate being a Hotel Omega. I’m owned there. I think I…I was in their nest. But I…I passed out and… This dream is nicer than dying.”
The hairs rise on the back of my neck.
This sweet Omega was a Hotel Omega, who are ordered like room service to be used by the Traditional elite when they visit certain corrupt hotels…?
With his pheromone imbalance being used repeatedly like that truly was a death sentence. He must have known it.
The coldness that is numbing me, however, is because I have used Hotel Omegas. Most Mob Alphas have. It’s tradition when we travel either without our bonded Omega or haven’t bonded yet.
When I have been on missions, and my ruts have hit, the only way to stop going feral was to check into a hotel and use their service.
I was forbidden from forming relationships with Omegas. I had no choice.
My ruts were impersonal. Functional. A necessity.
I have never dated. I don’t know how to be romantic.
I’m not sure that I can or want to be.
I am as bad as any of the mob packs.
As bad as Fiorella.
How much will my scent match hate me, if he discovers that I am one of the faceless assholes who have made the lives of Omegas just like him hell?
I could have been the Alpha who killed him.
Seventy-one said that the last pack who rutted him were gentle. I was never cruel either. But what difference does it make? He was used just the same.
