Page 83 of Reckless Consequences

Someone’s touching me. A hand on my chest. The scents hit me with startling clarity—cedar and steel from Ryker pressing against my skin like physical weight, cherry tobacco from Jinx making my pulse jump, vanilla and jasmine from Theo soothing raw nerve endings, and lemon with ozone from Cayenne. But her scent is different somehow—deeper, with notes I can’t quite place, carrying something almost omega-adjacent that makes my senses spark with recognition.

I’ve never sensed them this clearly before. Never felt their presence so intensely, like they’re hardwired directly into me. The thought sends a jolt of panic through me—everything I’ve built my identity around, my beta clarity and distance, has been fundamentally altered. My throat tightens with the loss, even as another part of me—something new and strangely powerful—revels in this connection I’d always thought impossible.

I try to move but nothing works right. Everything’s too intense—sounds have colors, scents carry emotions, touch tells me more than it should.

My skin prickles, each point of contact with the sheets sending shockwaves through nerves that feel raw and exposed. My stomach churns, muscles twitching involuntarily as they adjust to this new reality.

Even the air against my face feels different—heavier, loaded with information my body processes before my brain can make sense of it.

I focus on Cayenne’s hand holding mine. The warmth of her fingers anchors me to reality. I concentrate everything on squeezing back, just a small movement.

“His hand—he squeezed my hand!”

“Finn?” Theo’s voice closer now. “Can you hear me? Squeeze once for yes.”

Another attempt at movement. Success.

“He’s responding!” Theo’s voice breaks with relief, his usual calm giving way to raw emotion.

I struggle to open my eyes, eyelids unexpectedly heavy. Light floods in—initially overwhelming, gradually resolving into shapes and patterns.

Four faces. Four expressions. One common thread.

Pack.

“Welcome back, Professor.” Jinx’s grin somehow works alongside visible signs of stress and sleep deprivation. “Told you the sex idea would work. He just had to wake up to stop us.”

“Yes, I’m sure that’s exactly why he regained consciousness,” Cayenne rolls her eyes, but her hand stays pressed against mine. “Scientific miracle.”

I attempt to speak. First try results in a harsh sound lacking any real words.

“Don’t try to talk yet,” Theo advises, omega concern beneath medical expertise. “Small steps. You’ve been unconscious for three days.”

Three days. A significant gap in my awareness.

The second attempt produces better results: “W-water.”

Ryker moves quickly, supporting my head while Theo holds a cup with straw to my lips. The liquid feels unexpectedly intense against my throat—temperature, pressure, and taste registering with unusual precision. Cold radiates through tissue, the sensation mapping paths I’ve never noticed before.

“Formula effects,” I manage after several swallows, my voice rough and weak.

Theo nods, professional assessment momentarily overriding emotion. “Enhanced sensory processing, faster neural connections, heightened designation sensitivity.”

“Basically, you’re experiencing everything in high definition now,” Cayenne translates. “Mona says it’s like your senses got an upgrade.”

I attempt to nod, the motion requiring more effort than it should. “Pack bond...”

“You can feel it more strongly now,” Theo confirms. “The formula altered your designation receptors. Not quite beta anymore, not fully alpha or omega either. Something... in between.”

As if triggered by his words, my body suddenly thrums with awareness of the pack bonds—not just recognizing them but feeling them, like invisible threads connecting my nervous system directly to theirs. My muscles echo their movements, my breathing matches their rhythm without me trying, my skin heats where the bonds feel strongest.

“Like me,” Cayenne says quietly. “Sterling’s virus did something similar. Not quite beta, not fully omega.”

I look more closely at her now, gradually adjusting to enhanced senses. Her familiar features now reveal more—subtle shifts in expression I couldn’t see before, tiny movements showing her emotions, scent markers suggesting biological changes beyond standard beta classification.

My body responds to it before my mind can catch up—pupils dilating, heart racing, the hair on my forearms standing on end as I catch her altered scent. Something in my chest aches with recognition, completely bypassing rational thought.

I notice the claiming marks on all of them, including my own—bonds we formed before everything went sideways. Before Roman’s injection. The memory flickers, still fragmented: Theo’s heat, all of us together, choosing each other despite designation differences.

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