Page 7 of Reckless Consequences

“It’s not working,” I murmur, helping him to the couch, trying not to groan when he collapses against me. “The suppressant. Your body’s fighting it now.”

“It has to work,” Theo insists, but his eyes are already glazing, pupils expanding until only a thin ring of dark brown remains, like an eclipse swallowing the sun. “Just need to... focus through it.”

Across the room, Finn’s breathing hitches, then resumes its labored rhythm. The sound yanks us all back to reality—the reminder of why we’re fighting biology so desperately, why Theo’s been poisoning himself with suppressants for days.

“Let me help,” I offer, my hand still on Theo’s neck, feeling his pulse race beneath my fingers like a trapped hummingbird. “Let us help.”

Theo’s eyes meet mine, then shift to Ryker who stands frozen by the damaged wall, tension vibrating from him in nearly visible waves. “If I let this happen,” he whispers, “if I go into full heat without her?—”

“We still wait for her,” Ryker finishes, understanding immediately. “This doesn’t change the plan. Just how we manage until they arrive.”

I watch something shift in Theo’s expression—his heat fighting against his loyalty to the pack in every line of his beautiful face. His hand finds mine, squeezing with surprising strength.

“Promise me,” he demands, “promise me we still bring her home. That this doesn’t become another way to exclude her.”

The accusation hits Ryker like a physical blow—I can actually see him flinch, the impact of words sharper than any bullet. We all know what Theo’s referring to—Ryker’s initial reluctance to include Cayenne in Theo’s heats, his struggle to make room in our established dynamic.

“I promise,” Ryker says, the words emerging rough but sincere. “We bring her home. To all of us.”

Theo nods once, decision made. Then his body convulses as another wave of heat symptoms crashes through him. The sound he makes—half keen, half growl—shatters what remains of my control like a wrecking ball through glass. The scent of his slick fills the air, honey-sweet and maddening, making my mouth water with the need to taste him, to bury my face between his thighs and drink down every drop of his desire.

“Jinx,” Ryker’s voice carries command even now. “Monitor Finn. Ten-minute rotations. We work in shifts.”

I nod automatically, but the plan dissolves before it even begins. Theo’s body arches off the couch, a whimper escaping him that ignites something primal in both Ryker and me—a sound of need so pure it bypasses the brain entirely and speaks directly to instinct. The scent of his heat blooms fully—no longer just dark vanilla and jasmine but something richer, more intoxicating, laced with notes of desire and need that make my mouth water and my knot throb.

“Fuck the shifts,” I growl, already dropping to my knees beside the couch. My hands find Theo’s burning skin beneath his shirt, his flesh scorching against my palms like I’m touching living flame. “He needs us. Both of us. Now.”

Ryker hesitates for only a heartbeat—one last stand of control against the tidal wave of pheromones—before his discipline finally fractures. He’s across the room in seconds, kneeling opposite me, his hands joining mine on Theo’s trembling body.

“Keep him in sight,” Ryker orders, nodding toward Finn. His voice is wrecked, barely recognizable through the alpha rumble vibrating his chest. “We watch him. Together.”

I position myself so Finn remains in my line of vision as I claim Theo’s mouth. He tastes like desperation and sweetness, like addiction distilled into human form. His lips part on a moan that I swallow hungrily, greedy for every sound. Beneath me, his body burns with heat-fever, skin flushed and slick with sweat that tastes like sin when I trace my tongue along his collarbone, salt and spice and something that belongs only to him—that essence of artistic chaos wrapped in precision.

“More,” Theo gasps, his fingers clawing at my shirt like he’s trying to tear his way through to skin. “Need... everything off.”

I strip my shirt off, tossing it aside as Ryker works Theo’s pants down his legs. The scent that fills the room nearly brings me to my knees—pure omega slick, so thick and rich I can almost taste it on the air. Theo’s entrance glistens, pink and swollen, already preparing for what’s to come.

“Look at you,” Ryker murmurs, his voice reverent as he spreads Theo’s thighs wider. “So beautiful for us.”

My hand joins Ryker’s between Theo’s legs, fingers sliding through the slickness coating his inner thighs. I trace the path of a droplet as it runs down the curve of his ass, collecting it on my fingertip before bringing it to my lips. The taste hits me like a drug—honey and spice and that essence that’s purely Theo, making my knot throb painfully at the base of my cock.

“Need more,” Theo whimpers, hips lifting in silent plea. “Please, Jinx.”

“So wet,” I groan, working my fingers deeper, feeling the slick coating my knuckles, dripping down my wrist. “So fucking perfect.”

I press one finger against his entrance, feeling the muscle give way easily. His body welcomes the intrusion, pulling me deeper with greedy pulses. I add a second finger, scissoring them gently to stretch him, though his heat-ready body barely needs the preparation.

“So responsive,” Ryker praises, leaning down to capture one of Theo’s nipples between his teeth. The omega arches with a cry, his cock leaking pre-come onto his stomach as Ryker’s tongue laves the sensitized bud.

I work my fingers deeper, curling them to find that spot inside that makes Theo see stars. When I find it, his whole body jerks, a strangled cry escaping his throat.

“There,” I growl, massaging the spot with firm pressure. “Right there, piccolo.”

“Please,” Theo gasps, fucking himself back on my fingers, taking them deeper with each desperate movement. “Need your knot, Jinx. Need to feel you split me open.”

I oblige, adding a third finger, feeling his body stretch to accommodate the intrusion. Slick gushes around my hand, coating my fingers and palm, running down my wrist in rivulets of omega desire. I withdraw my fingers, bringing them to my mouth to taste his sweetness. The flavor explodes across my tongue—honey and spice threaded with Theo’s singular essence that makes my knot throb painfully, demanding to be buried inside him.

Ryker moves between Theo’s legs, bending to taste the slick directly from the source. His tongue replaces my fingers, lapping at Theo’s entrance with precise strokes that have our omega thrashing beneath him.

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