14. Joker
CHAPTER 14
JOKER
E very time I see her, I swear my Beta brain short circuits like I’m back in eighth grade with sweaty palms and an awkward boner. It’s been exactly seven days, thirteen hours, and twenty-six minutes since our little Omega bombshell crashed into our lives, and I’m counting every goddamn second like it’s precious.
Charlotte Matthews, Omega Rights Activist, professional pain in the ass, and the walking embodiment of everything I didn’t know I wanted until she showed up smelling like honey, cinnamon, and trouble.
“This is cruel and unusual punishment!” Her voice carries down the hall as Beaux drags her toward the gym at 4:13 AM. Like clockwork. “No functioning human being should be conscious at this hour!”
I snicker behind my coffee mug, watching her trudge behind Motley in shorts that hug every delicious curve. My fingers itch to trace them. To memorize them. To worship them. I’m not an Alpha—I don’t have the primal instinct to claim and mark—but fuck if I don’t feel something primal stir when she’s near.
“The government didn’t care what time it was when they were training commodities like us,” Beaux reminds her with that twisted grin that means he’s enjoying her suffering. “Evil doesn’t sleep in, princess.”
“I’m not training to fight evil,” she huffs. “Okay, maybe I am training to fight evil, but also you’re all paranoid control freaks.”
Moses appears from the kitchen, silent as always, pressing a protein shake into her hands. “Drink. You’ll feel better.”
She narrows her eyes at him suspiciously but takes it anyway. That’s progress. A week ago, she wouldn’t have accepted anything without sniffing it first. Trust is building, brick by stubborn brick.
“I hate all of you,” she mutters.
“Liar,” I call out. Her eyes find mine, and there it is—that spark that makes my stomach flip. “Your scent gets sweeter when you’re around us. Dead giveaway, Charlotte.”
Her cheeks flush dark against her brown skin. “That’s, that’s a biological response. Doesn’t mean I like you.”
She sticks her tongue out at me, and I melt a little more.
“Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.” I wink.
Once they disappear to torture our reluctant Omega, I return to my monitors. My domain. While the Alphas handle the physical, I track the digital footprints of every threat that might come sniffing around our newfound treasure.
Speaking of Alphas—Teagan’s avoidance technique is becoming painfully obvious. The man’s been gone more than he’s been home this week, scheduling meetings, missions, anything to avoid being in the same room as Charlotte. Charlotte notices. She’s too smart not to.
Last night at dinner her eyes kept darting to the empty chair at the head of the table. “Does your fearless leader ever eat with the rest of you?” she’d asked, trying to sound casual and failing spectacularly.
“Teagan’s schedule is unpredictable,” Moses had said smoothly. But I saw the flicker of disappointment.
We’re never all together around her. It’s deliberate—a rotation, carefully orchestrated to manage pheromones. But our Omega is connecting the dots.
After her morning torture session, Charlotte usually finds her way to me. My lab’s become her sanctuary.
“What are you working on today, tech wizard Jo-Jo?” she asks, dropping into the chair beside mine, flushed and damp from her shower. Her scent wraps around me—stronger now, more comfortable. These moments are becoming my religion.
“Tracking a ghost,” I tell her, showing the code sequences I’m using to trace whoever leaked a list of the rescued Omegas to the press—including her. “Whoever did this knows how to cover their tracks.”
She leans closer, warmth bleeding into my side. “You’ll find them. You’re too smart not to.”
Simple faith in her voice. Dangerous things stir in me. I want to prove her right. Be worthy of that confidence. I’ve always been the odd one out—the neurodiverse Beta in a pack of dominant Alphas. I made myself indispensable. But Charlotte just sees me. When she laughs at my jokes or asks about my work, I feel something I never expected. Belonging. Not to the pack. To her.
“You know they’re avoiding being together around me on purpose, right?”
I consider lying, then shrug. “Yeah.”
“Because they think I’ll go into heat if I’m around too many Alphas at once?”
“Something like that.”
“What about you? Why aren’t you avoiding me?”
The question hits harder than I expect. I turn to her. “Do you want me to?”
“No.” Her answer is immediate. “You’re the only one who makes me feel normal here. I know my heat is coming. I know it’ll trigger things I don’t want to remember. I’m trying to be strong despite what I went through.”
I shouldn’t feel pleased, but I do. “As a Beta?—”
“It’s not just the Beta thing,” she interrupts. “It’s you, Josiah. You don’t look at me like I’m a problem to solve or a prize to win.”
Something shifts. I want to tell her she’s wrong—I do see her as a prize. But I don’t. Instead, I reach out and tuck a curl behind her ear. Her pulse jumps.
“I look at you exactly how you deserve to be looked at, Charlotte.”
"How do I deserve to be looked at, Josiah?" Her voice is soft, barely above a whisper, but it resonates through me like a gunshot. Those big brown eyes search mine, demanding an answer I'm not sure she's ready to hear.
I lean in, letting my fingers linger on the curve of her jaw. Her skin is warm, inviting, and I can feel her pulse quicken under my touch. "You deserve to be looked at like you're the center of the fucking universe, Charlotte. Because to me, you are."
Her breath hitches, and she leans closer, close enough that our breaths mingle, so close, that I can taste the faint hint of cinnamon on her lips. Her eyes flutter closed as she brushes her mouth against mine, a tentative, electric touch that sets every nerve ending in my body ablaze.
But then she pulls away, quick as a heartbeat, eyes wide with uncertainty. Not fear, she's not afraid of me. She's afraid of this, of whatever the hell is happening between us.
"I, I should go," she stammers, pushing back her chair with a scrape that echoes through the lab like a record scratch. "Brookes will worry if I don't check in."
I nod, trying to hide the disappointment that surges through me. "Yeah, of course. Wouldn't want him alerting the national guard or hiring assassins to hunt us down."
She offers me a small, apologetic smile before disappearing down the hall, leaving me reeling in her wake. My fingers drift to my lips, tracing the ghost of her kiss. Fuck, I can still feel her—still taste her. And I want more. I slump back in my chair, running a hand over my hair.
But it's not about possession, not really. It's about connection. About the fact that she feels comfortable with me, close to me. Close enough to kiss me, even if it was just a fleeting brush of lips. That's something none of the others have achieved yet. Not Beaux with his wild intensity, not Moses with his quiet strength, and certainly not Teagan.
A slow smile spreads across my face. Yeah, this is a win. Not a competition, not a conquest—just proof that she trusts me. That she sees me, not just as a Beta, but as Josiah. And damn if that doesn't make me feel like the king of the fucking world.
I turn back to my monitors, but my mind is elsewhere, chasing after the phantom of her touch.
The rest of the day passes in a blur. I barely register the codes and patterns flashing across my screens, too consumed by thoughts of Charlotte. By the time evening rolls around, I'm jittery, anxious, desperate for another hit of her honey-cinnamon scent.
Later, I find her in the kitchen, laughing with Moses as he teaches her how to make his famous jambalaya. The sight of them together, her head thrown back, eyes sparkling, him grinning like a fool, sends a jolt of warmth through me. Because it's happening without us even trying. No jealousy. If I did feel it, I would push it down, remind myself that this isn't a competition. This is about her, about what she needs. And if she needs Moses' quiet comfort, then who am I to begrudge her that?
"Hey, Jo-Jo," she greets me, smile softening as her eyes meet mine. There's a hint of uncertainty there, a question. She's wondering if things are weird between us now, if I'm going to make a big deal out of what happened earlier.
I shove my hands in my pockets, rocking back on my heels as I approach them in my domain. "Hey yourself. Whatcha cooking?" I ask even though I know by the delicious aroma that permeates the room.
Moses answers, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder. "Jambalaya. My family recipe."
"Smells amazing," I say, inhaling deeply. And it does, but not as amazing as her scent, mingling with the spices and heat, wrapping around me like a drug.
I sidle up next to her, nudging her gently with my elbow. "You gonna save some for me?"
She bumps me back, grinning. "Maybe. If you're nice."
"I'm always nice," I protest, feigning offense.
Her laughter fills the room, warm and infectious, and I can't help but join in. This is what I love about her—the ease, the banter, the way she gives as good as she gets. She's not just an Omega, not just a pretty face or a sweet scent. She's fire and wit and strength, all wrapped up in one irresistible package.
Dinner is a rowdy affair, filled with laughter and teasing and more than a few heated glances exchanged. But she saves the best for me—the secret smiles, the subtle touches under the table, the whispered jokes that only we understand. It's our own private language, our own little world within a world.
After dinner, we retreat to the living room, sprawling out on couches and chairs like a pride of lazy lions. The others retreat, again, giving Charlotte space, although they don't notice the roll of her eyes at their retreat. Charlotte curls up next to me, her head resting on my shoulder, and I can feel the tension draining out of her, replaced by a contented warmth that seeps into my bones.
"You okay?" I murmur, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Yep, I didn't hesitate, the action as natural as breathing. I smile, content with the fact that she doesn't react negatively at all.
She nods, snuggling closer. "Yeah. Just tired. It's been a long day."
"Mmm." I wrap an arm around her, pulling her tight against my side. "Well, you're safe now. You can rest."
She tilts her head up, eyes searching mine. "With you?"
My heart stutters in my chest. "Always with me, Charlotte. Always."
A small smile tugs at the corners of her mouth, and she settles back down, her breath evens out as she drifts off to sleep. I stay still, barely daring to breathe, afraid to disturb her. Afraid to break this moment, this perfect, fragile peace.
But as I sit there, surrounded by the soft sounds of her breathing and the steady rhythm of Charlotte's heartbeat, I can't shake the feeling that this is just the calm before the storm. That something or someone is coming to shatter our newfound happiness. And I'll be damned if I let that happen. Not without a fight. Not without a war. Because this Omega is ours and I'll do whatever it takes to keep her safe. Whatever it takes to make her happy. Whatever it takes to prove that she belongs here, with us. With me.