Page 35 of Reckless Consequences

“Call it whatever helps you process it. But you’re eating everything I order for you.” The Alpha command in his voice makes my spine straighten involuntarily, a biological response I can’t override despite my Beta status.

We order simple food—burgers, fries, milkshakes—the kind of meal that feels like childhood nostalgia even though my actual childhood never included family diner outings. As we wait, I find myself studying Ryker with new curiosity.

“What?” he asks, catching my observation.

“I’ve never seen you like this. Relaxed. Almost... normal.”

“I contain multitudes, remember?” He takes a sip of water. “Before the pack, before PCA, I had a life. Family dinners. School. Normal teenage stuff.”

“Hard to imagine you as a normal teenager.”

“I wasn’t. Always too serious, too focused. But I had moments.” His expression softens with memory. “My father used to bring me to diners like this after baseball games. Win or lose, we’d get burgers and talk about anything except the game.”

The glimpse into his past feels more intimate than the claiming marks we now share. “You never talk about your family.”

“They died when I was twenty. Territory dispute with a rival pack.” His voice remains steady, but I feel the old pain through our bond. The cedar in his scent momentarily shifts, taking on a sharp note of grief before his Alpha control reasserts itself, locking the emotion down.

My body responds without conscious input, the scent glands at my neck releasing subtle comfort pheromones—an Omega-like reaction that should be biologically impossible for me. I reach across the table before I realize what I’m doing, my fingers finding his wrist where the Alpha scent gland pulses strongest.

“That’s when I joined the military. Needed structure. Purpose.”

“And found the pack instead.”

“Eventually.” His thumb traces patterns on my wrist. “Found you, too. Though that wasn’t part of the plan.”

Our food arrives, momentarily pausing the conversation. I bite into the burger, flavor exploding across my taste buds. Only then do I realize how genuinely hungry I am, devouring half before coming up for air. The claiming marks on my neck warm pleasantly as I eat, my body responding to the physical care.

“Better?” Ryker asks, amusement coloring his voice.

“Mm,” I manage around a mouthful of fries. “Almost worth the apocalypse for this burger.”

His laughter—rare, precious—fills the space between us. For a moment, we’re just two people enjoying a meal together, the weight of our mission temporarily lifted.

“You know,” I say after swallowing, “for someone who supposedly doesn’t do emotions, you’ve got surprisingly good taste in comfort food.”

“Just evaluating caloric density,” he deadpans, stealing one of my fries.

“Of course.” I steal one of his in retaliation. “Very efficient.”

This easy banter feels new between us—free from the tension that defined our early interactions. The claiming bonds have changed something fundamental, opening communication channels that were previously restricted.

As we eat, I notice my body responding to the proximity to Ryker in subtle ways. The hollow feeling from pack separation has eased, replaced by a warmth that spreads from the claiming marks through my entire system. My scent shifts again, the citrus notes strengthening as if his Alpha presence triggers my body’s confidence to express itself more fully. Most surprising is how my awareness of the other diners has changed—I’m tracking exits, assessing potential threats, monitoring designation dynamics with an Alpha-like awareness I never possessed before.

“Can I ask you something?” I venture, curiosity overriding caution.

“Always.”

“Before... everything. You said you wanted one last heat with just Theo. Just your Omega.” I meet his eyes directly. “Do you regret that it didn’t happen that way?”

He considers the question thoroughly. “No,” he finally says. “I thought I needed that closure. That clean break between before and after. But what I really needed was integration, not separation.”

“Integration,” I repeat, turning the word over.

“Bringing you fully into what we already had. Not as an addition, but as a completion.” His fingers tighten around mine. “I didn’t understand that until I almost lost you. Both times.”

The admission settles something inside me that’s been restless since I first encountered Pack Locke. Not belonging despite my differences, but belonging because of them. Not fitting into an existing structure, but transforming it into something new.

I drain the last of my milkshake with an undignified slurp that makes Ryker raise an eyebrow.

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