Page 35 of Reckless: Chaos

“Hours ago.” I press closer, ignoring the twinge in my shoulder. “Ancient history.”

“Twelve hours.” His voice drops to that dangerous register that makes desire to coil low in my belly. “Twelve hours, seventeen minutes since I watched you bleed out. Since I had to let them take you away because I was too far gone to be trusted near medical equipment.”

“Jinx—”

“No.” He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, and the raw need there steals my breath. “You don’t get it. I’m barely holding on here. The only thing keeping me sane is focusing on taking care of you. On being careful. Because if I lose it...” His hands slide up my sides, feather-light. “If I let myself think about how bad I want you right now, while you’re hurt...”

I arch into his touch. “Show me.”

“Fuck.” He drops his forehead to mine, breathing ragged. “You’re playing with fire, Glitch.”

“Good thing I like getting burned.”

Steam fills the bathroom as he helps me step under the spray, his hands steady despite the tremors I can feel running through him. Every touch screams of careful restraint—the way his fingers ghost over my skin, how he positions himself to support without crowding. The water hits my good shoulder first, and I let out a moan that has nothing to do with pain.

“Don’t.” The word comes out like shattered glass. His hands tighten fractionally on my hips, then deliberately loosen. “Don’t make those sounds. Not when I’m trying so fucking hard to be careful with you.”

“Bold of you to assume that’s what I want.” I arch into his touch, feeling his breath catch. The front of his shirt is soaked now, clinging to muscles gone rigid with tension. “Maybe I want to see what happens when you stop holding back.”

“You have no idea what you’re asking for.” His voice drops to that dangerous register that makes a flush of want to rush in my belly. One hand slides up my ribs, calluses catching on sensitive skin. “Do you know what it does to an alpha, seeing you hurt? Smelling your pain mixed with arousal?” His other hand grips my hip harder, like he’s fighting the urge to spin me around and take. “Makes me want to claim and protect at the same time. Makes me want to mark you up while keeping you safe.”

The medical monitor chirps a warning as my pulse spikes. His responding growl vibrates through my back where I’m pressed against his chest.

“Then do it,” I challenge, rolling my hips back against him. The thick length of him presses against me through his soaked jeans, making us both groan. “Show me what happens when an alpha loses control.”

“Fuck.” The word comes out guttural as his forehead drops to my good shoulder. “You’re playing with fire, Glitch. And I’m already burning.”

Water sluices down my back as I lean against the tile, careful to keep my injured side away from the spray. The waterproof bandage Finn meticulously applied crinkles with every movement, a constant reminder of why we’re in a medical suite instead of my basement room.

“Hold still.” Jinx’s voice is tight as he positions himself between me and the shower head, shielding my bandaged shoulder from direct water pressure. “Let me wash your hair. And for fuck’s sake, stop trying to move that arm—your vitals are probably setting off every alert Finn programmed into the monitoring system.”

The medical bracelet on my wrist blinks steadily, transmitting data to whoever’s on watch. Probably Theo, given the faint traces of vanilla and sheet music drifting under the bathroom door. Always close, my protective pack, rotating shifts like the world’s most lethal antivirus program.

His eyes track my movements like a predator, pupils blown so wide the amber is just a thin ring, but his hands stay carefully, torturously gentle. The contrast between his feral gaze and controlled touches sets every nerve ending on fire.

I comply, but make sure to brush against him as I move. The rough denim of his jeans scrapes my thigh, and I realize he’s still fully dressed, getting soaked as he takes care of me.

His fingers thread through my hair, working shampoo into a lather with devastating gentleness. The contrast between his careful touches and the barely contained violence in his voice sets my nerve endings on fire.

“I could take care of you,” he murmurs, voice dropping to that dangerous register that makes me shiver. “Without moving that shoulder. Without risking a single stitch.”

My breath catches. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His hands slide down my neck, thumbs working at the tension there. “Could make you feel so good you forget about the pain. Forget about everything except my hands on you.”

“Jinx...”

“But you’d have to be very, very still.” His lips brush my ear. “Think you can do that for me? Let me take control?”

The tile is cool against my overheated skin as I lean into it. “Thought you were trying to be good?”

His laugh is all darkness. “Sweetheart, there’s nothing good about what I want to do to you right now.”

I press back against him, letting the water run between us. “Tell me.”

His hands slide down my sides, careful to avoid the bandage but possessive everywhere else. “You sure you want to open that door? Because once I start, I won’t be able to stop.”

“Maybe I don’t want you to stop.”

---