Page 44 of Reckless: Chaos

Theo’s satisfied omega purr resonates through both of us, his own pack bonds wrapping around us like a warm embrace. “Beautiful,” he murmurs, pressing reverent kisses along my spine, his clever hands tracing patterns over our sweat-slick skin. “My beautiful, broken boys—claimed and marked and still so desperate for each other.”

The praise makes my knot pulse again, drawing a whimper from Finn as I fill him with another surge of seed. Even claimed and mated, the urge to mark him, fill him, remind him he’s mine never fades. If anything, it grows stronger with each joining.

We’re still catching our breath when a new scent cuts through the sex-heavy air—alpha arousal with sharp notes of cedar and steel. The door opens without ceremony, revealing Ryker’s imposing frame.

His nostrils flare as he takes in the scene—me still locked inside Finn, Theo radiating omega need. “Started without me?”

“Jinx needed immediate intervention,” Theo explains, but his voice has gone breathy. The kind of breathy that makes alphas lose their minds.

Ryker’s eyes darken to midnight as he stalks forward, power rolling off him in waves. His fingers work at his shirt buttons with predatory grace, his alpha scent flooding the room—pine and power mixing with the heavy musk of arousal. “And now our omega needs attention.” The words rumble from his chest, making Theo’s breath catch audibly.

“Our omega always needs attention,” I manage through the pleasure still pulsing where I’m tied to Finn. The movement makes my knot tug at his rim, drawing a breathless laugh from our claimed beta. Through our pack bonds, I can feel Theo’s omega need intensifying, his scent turning sweeter with desperation.

“True.” Ryker’s grin is pure alpha dominance as he reaches for Theo, one hand tangling in our omega’s wild hair. The pack bonds between them crackle with electricity, making all of us shiver in response. “Fortunately, that’s what alphas are for. To take care of our perfect omega.”

Theo’s whole body arches toward Ryker, responding to the alpha command in his voice. The sight of them together—dark and light, power and grace—sends another pulse of pleasure through my knot. Finn feels it too, clenching around me as we watch our pack leaders come together.

The last thing I see before surrendering to another wave of pleasure is Ryker claiming Theo’s mouth in a devastating kiss. His hand still fisted in our omega’s hair, controlling the angle, showing his power even as Theo melts against him. The desperate whimper that escapes Theo’s throat is swallowed by Ryker’s kiss, but the sound reverberates through all our pack bonds, a symphony of need and belonging.

Through it all, I can feel my claiming bite on Finn’s neck pulsing in time with my knot, reminding us all of the bonds that tie us together—marked and claimed, alpha and beta and omega, pack in every way possible.

Some demons need fighting.

Some need fucking.

And sometimes, if you’re really lucky, your pack helps you do both.

Chapter 10

Cayenne

Boredom isits own special kind of prison. Not the productive kind where you have ten thousand tasks haunting your to-do list, but the suffocating kind that comes with forced inactivity. The kind that makes you acutely aware of every tick of the clock, every breath that isn’t being used for something meaningful.

It’s been a week.

Seven days of being trapped in this bed, watching sunlight crawl across designer walls that feel more confining by the hour. Seven days of well-meaning pack members hovering like I might shatter. Seven days of pretending the world outside this gilded cage doesn’t exist.

Except it does. And I’ve had enough.

I rip off the monitoring bracelet with more satisfaction than is probably healthy. Finn can deal with the inevitable beeping. My shoulder protests with a burning twinge, but if I spend one more second in this bed, I’m going to snap. Not in the fun, sexy way that gets me thoroughly ravished by overprotective alphas. No, this would be the kind of snap that ends with property damage and possibly arson.

God, I miss my girls. I could have spent this week of enforced rest sprawled on Willow’s couch, hacking corporate firewalls and eating takeout. Instead, I had to go and play hero.

The floor is blessedly cool under my socked feet as I swing my legs over the side, yes I can feel the fool through my socks. I’m already dressed—leggings, oversized sweater, thick socks—having won that small battle of independence hours ago during my supervised shower. Now for the bigger prize: fresh air.

Spring has finally chased away winter’s bite, and the need to feel sunlight on my skin has become an almost physical ache. I stretch carefully, working out the kinks of inactivity. My muscles feel sluggish, dormant, like code that hasn’t been run in too long.

The hallway outside my room stretches endless and empty. I have no idea where my self-appointed guardians are, and right now, I don’t care. The siren song of freedom calls too strongly to worry about their inevitable protests.

I need air. Sunshine. Maybe a bottle of wine if I can find where Theo hides his good stuff.

The massive front doors give way under my push, and I burst out into the morning like I’m about to recreateThe Sound of Music—tone deaf and entirely too enthusiastic. Birds welcome me with cheerful songs, squirrels scamper through awakening trees, and even tiny bunnies hop through dewy grass.

It’s perfect.

Until the thunderous roar of a motorcycle shatters my Disney princess moment.

Kind of perfect, actually.

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