Page 36 of Reckless Consequences

“What? It’s too good to waste.” I lick a smear of chocolate from my lip. His eyes track the movement, darkening in a way that makes my skin flush.

The claiming marks on my neck throb suddenly—not with desire, but with an insistent ache that makes me wince. An image of Finn flashes in my mind, his face tight with strain. Theo’s anxiety flickers through the bond next, followed by Jinx’s restless energy.

“They’re getting restless,” I say, pressing my fingers to the mark on the left side of my neck—the bite that connects me most strongly to Finn. “We need to get back.”

Ryker tosses cash on the table and stands in one fluid motion. He doesn’t question how I know, just offers his hand to help me slide out of the booth. It’s such a simple gesture, but the casualness of it—this deadly alpha extending everyday courtesy—makes my chest tight.

Outside, the late afternoon sun slants low between buildings, casting long shadows across the street. Ryker’s hand settles at the small of my back as we walk toward the SUV. Not gripping or steering, just... there. Warm. Steady.

A week ago, I’d have stiffened at the touch, reading it as possession, as control. Now I understand the distinction—it’s not about owning me, but connecting with me. My body leans into it unconsciously, seeking more contact.

The realization should terrify me. Instead, it feels like discovering a room in my house I never knew existed—one with windows that open onto a view I’ve been missing my entire life.

“What?” Ryker asks, catching my expression as he unlocks the SUV.

“Just thinking about how much has changed. How much I’ve changed.” I touch the edge of the claiming mark visible above my borrowed scarf. “A week ago I would have decked anyone who touched me the way you just did.”

His lips quirk. “And now?”

“Now I apparently like it,” I admit, climbing into the passenger seat. “Which is deeply concerning for my reputation as a badass loner.”

He laughs—that rare, rich sound that transforms his entire face—as he slides behind the wheel. “Your badass credentials remain intact, Glitch.”

As we pull away from the curb, I reach across the console, my fingers finding his wrist where his Alpha scent pulses strongest. “Five days,” I murmur.

His fingers intertwine with mine, squeezing once. “Five days,” he confirms, eyes steady on the road ahead. “We’ll be ready.”

The driveback to the cabin feels different than the journey out—something settled between us that wasn’t before. Not just intimacy born of biological imperatives, but understanding. Choice reinforcing chemistry.

Most noticeable is the physical response as we approach pack territory. The hollow ache beneath my sternum fills gradually. My scent blooms fully again, no longer minimized by separation instincts. The claiming marks cool from their persistent throb to a pleasant warmth, signaling proximity to pack. My senses sharpen, picking up Jinx’s wild pine scent from the perimeter, Theo’s dark vanilla from the cabin, Finn’s rain-washed stone from where he’s working near an open window.

The SUV’s tires crunch on gravel as we wind up the final stretch of road to the cabin. Through the windshield, I spot the first of Jinx’s new security measures—branches arranged in patterns that look random but actually create sightlines to the approach. Clever. Three more turns, and the cabin comes into view nestled among the pines.

My body reacts before my mind registers what’s happening. The hollow ache beneath my sternum fills suddenly, like someone poured warm honey into the empty spaces. The claiming marks on my neck pulse in unison, then settle into a pleasant hum. My scent—which had been muted during our separation—blooms fully again, citrus notes sharp and bright.

“You feel that?” Ryker asks, his own breathing deepening as we approach pack territory.

I nod, not trusting my voice. The sensation is almost overwhelming—like breaking the surface after being underwater too long.

As we pull into the small clearing that serves as our parking area, I spot Jinx emerging from the treeline to our left. He moves with predatory grace, rifle casually propped against his shoulder, the wind carrying his wild pine scent to us before he’s fully visible. My heart rate kicks up, body responding to the sight of him with embarrassing eagerness.

“Took you long enough,” he calls, striding toward us. But there’s relief in his voice, tension visibly draining from his shoulders as we step out of the vehicle.

“Miss us?” I tease, but my voice comes out huskier than intended.

He doesn’t answer with words. Instead, he drops the rifle against the SUV’s fender and pulls me into an embrace that feels like coming home. His nose finds my neck, inhaling deeply at the source of my scent.

“You smell like diner food,” he murmurs against my skin, “and Ryker.” There’s no accusation in it, just observation—and something that sounds almost like approval.

“Priorities, Jinx,” I laugh, pulling back. “Food, then saving the world.”

The cabin door swings open, and Theo appears on the porch, a dish towel slung over his shoulder. Even from here, I can see the moment he spots us—his entire body relaxes, hands unclenching, shoulders dropping.

“They’re back!” he calls over his shoulder, presumably to Finn. Then he’s bounding down the steps with surprising speed, reaching us just as Jinx releases me.

Theo’s greeting is gentler but no less intense—his arms wrap around me, his scent enveloping me in dark vanilla and jasmine. “Missed you,” he says simply, confirming what I felt through the bond.

“It was just a supply run,” I protest weakly, even as I lean into his embrace.

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