Page 16 of Reckless Consequences

I approach the bike, noting how Ryker’s body shifts to accommodate me. As I swing my leg over and settle behind him, the intimacy of the position hits me. My thighs bracket his, the heat of him seeping through my jeans. My front presses against his back, armor and tactical gear creating frustrating barriers between us.

“Hold on,” he instructs, voice rough. “Tight.”

I slide my arms around his waist, fingers locking over his abdomen. I can feel his muscles tense beneath my touch before he relaxes. The position forces me to mold myself to him, chest against his back, pelvis against his lower spine. Each breath brings his scent deeper into my lungs—cedar and steel intensified by proximity.

When the engine roars to life between our legs, the vibration travels through both of us, a shared sensation that feels startlingly intimate. Ryker’s hand covers mine briefly, pressing my arms tighter around him before returning to the handlebars.

The motorcycle ride to the cabin is an exercise in contradictions—the urgency of our mission contrasted with the devastating intimacy of our position. Each curve in the road forces me to cling tighter, our movements synchronized by necessity.

Through Jinx’s bond, I sense Finn’s condition worsening—his presence stuttering like a failing connection, going offline for longer periods before weakly returning. The sensation fills me with dread. We’re losing him, one second at a time.

“Faster,” I urge against Ryker’s ear, my lips brushing the sensitive skin there. My voice emerges husky and unfamiliar, charged with an authority that surprises even me.

He responds immediately, the bike’s engine roaring as we accelerate. The forest blurs around us, but my focus has narrowed to this connection between us—the physical tether complementing the bond through Jinx.

There’s a security in this I’ve never known before—not the false safety of isolation, but the genuine protection of connection. Of someone who came looking when I disappeared. Who tracked me through bonds I didn’t fully understand. Who’s now carrying me home because he understands exactly what’s at stake.

I press my forehead between his shoulder blades, realizing I’m not alone anymore. I’ve never truly been alone since Jinx claimed me.

As we approach the cabin, my body tenses with anticipation. Jinx’s claiming mark throbs with increasing urgency, the connection strengthening with each meter closer to home. My skin feels electric as we finally arrive, the motorcycle’s engine cutting to silence as Ryker brings us to a stop.

For a brief moment before dismounting, I allow myself to cling to him—one last second of connection before facing what waits inside. My fingers press against his abdomen, feeling the solid strength of him.

“It’s going to be okay,” I whisper, the words as much for me as for him.

He covers my hand with his, squeezing once in silent response. When we finally break apart to head inside, my body carries his imprint—the ghost of his touch, his warmth, his scent clinging to my clothes and skin.

It’s time to face the pack. To deliver Finn’s cure. To reclaim my place among them, not as the beta who ran, but as the one who returned carrying salvation.

Chapter5

Theo

A waveof heat crashes through me, burning through my core. I double over, my nerve endings on fire. The pill bottle slips from my hands and shatters. Pills scatter across the floor.

“Shit,” I gasp, dropping to my knees to gather them. Each movement sends another pulse of fire through my veins. The suppressant I took six hours ago is failing—spectacularly, catastrophically failing. My skin prickles, my omega receptors overreacting after being suppressed for too long.

“I’ve got it.” Jinx materializes beside me, his cherry tobacco scent wrapping around me like a physical touch. The proximity of his alpha pheromones makes my pupils dilate rapidly. A whimper escapes before I can trap it, my body instinctively leaning toward his heat even as my mind fights to maintain distance. “Focus on Finn,” he says.

I nod, struggling to my feet. The world tilts dangerously, colors too bright. Sounds are too sharp, the drip of the IV fluid distracting. Everything amplified by biology I can no longer control.

My skin feels too tight, my clothes an unbearable prison of texture and weight. Slick gathers between my thighs, the sensation mortifying. My entrance pulses with emptiness, a biological imperative I can only suppress through sheer force of will.

But none of that matters. Because Finn is dying.

Finn lies on the makeshift medical bed, oxygen mask fogging with each labored breath. The virus has taken over, his mind lost to fever dreams about chess and equations—numbers and coordinates that tumble from his lips. His skin is pale, blue veins visible beneath.

“Respirations down to sixteen,” I report, forcing clinical precision into my voice. My tongue feels swollen in my mouth, words emerging with effort. “Oxygen at eighty-seven percent.”

Jinx finishes collecting the pills, his movements carefully controlled to avoid touching me directly. We both know what would happen if he did—my omega biology would respond to his alpha chemistry, accelerating the heat cycle I’m desperately trying to suppress. The scent of his arousal is unmistakable—a dark undercurrent to his usual cherry tobacco. My nostrils flare involuntarily, my body responding with another flood of slick.

We’d fuck. And we wouldn’t be able to stop. Not anymore. I’d surrender. He’d surrender. And no one would be around to watch Finn fade into silence.

“How much longer can he hold on?” Jinx asks, depositing the salvaged medication beside Finn’s monitoring equipment. His pupils have dilated to black pools rimmed with green-gold, his alpha biology responding to my heat pheromones despite his rigid control.

“I don’t—” Another heat wave crashes through me, stealing my words. The intensity doubles me over. I grip the edge of the bed, knuckles whitening as I ride out the intensity. “Hours. Maybe less.”

Jinx’s face hardens, all the manic edge stripped away, leaving something sharper. Meaner. He’s been stalking the cabin’s edges since Ryker left—pacing like a caged thing, fury simmering just under the surface. Every hour Cayenne’s gone, every ragged breath from Finn, it coils tighter. And when it snaps, it won’t be quiet.

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