Page 66 of Reckless: Corruption

“I can feel it trying to form,” I admit, surprised by the strange tethered sensation pulsing from the bite. “Like it’s reaching for something I’m not quite ready to give.”

His eyes soften with understanding. “That’s how it should be. The bond can’t force itself on you. You have to choose it, just like you chose to stay.”

The image that conjures—being surrounded by all of them, belonging completely to this beautiful, broken pack—sends heat spiraling through me again despite my body’s exhaustion.

“So,” I finally say, because deflection is still my default setting, “that happened.”

He tightens his arms around me. “Disappointed?”

“Hardly.” I press a kiss to his chest, just above his heart. “Just surprised. Didn’t think I’d be awake enough for... physical activity.”

“Your fever broke around dawn,” he explains, his fingers finding a particularly sensitive spot at the base of my spine that makes me shiver. “Mona said your vitals were stabilizing.”

“You checked with my sister before jumping my bones?” I lift my head to stare at him. “That’s... disturbingly responsible.”

His grin turns wicked. “I think her exact words were sexual activity promotes endorphin release, very beneficial recovery metrics, much scientific documentation.”

I groan, dropping my forehead against his chest. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Would I joke about something that traumatizing?”

“Yes. Yes, you absolutely would.”

He laughs, the sound lighter than I’ve ever heard from him. “Fair. But in this case, I’m dead serious. Your sister has very detailed opinions about optimal recovery activities.”

“I’m going to die of embarrassment.”

“After surviving the virus? Seems like a waste.” His hand slides lower, cupping my ass. “Besides, now that I know how responsive you are, I have plans.” His fingers drift to the mark on my neck, tracing it possessively. “Many plans. I want this pussy to take my knot and that means practice. Lots and lots of practice.”

A shiver runs through me at the promise in his voice. “Practice?”

“The best kind.” He shifts, rolling us until I’m beneath him again, his body a warm weight pressing me into the mattress. “Unless you need to rest?”

I hook my leg over his hip, drawing him closer. “I’ve been resting for days. I think I’m ready for some physical therapy.”

His laugh is dark with promise. “Careful what you wish for, Glitch.”

“Why?” I challenge, letting my hands wander across the defined muscles of his back. “Afraid you can’t keep up?”

The growl that rumbles through his chest vibrates against my skin. “Now who’s playing with fire?”

I trace the shell of his ear with my tongue, feeling him shudder against me. “Like I said, I’m not afraid of getting burned.”

His eyes meet mine, all humor fading into something more serious. “This isn’t just?—”

“I know,” I interrupt, not needing him to finish the thought. Because I do know. This isn’t just sex. Isn’t just scratching an itch. This is acknowledgment. Connection. A claiming that goes deeper than the physical.

My fingers drift to the mark on my neck, feeling the subtle raised edges where his teeth claimed me. The sensation sends a pulse of warmth through me, like code settling into its perfect pattern.

“Good,” he says simply, then kisses me again, more gently this time. “Because you’re mine now. Pack. Mine. Ours.”

The possessive declaration should trigger all my warning systems. Should make me want to run, to protect my independence, to remind him that I’m not property to be claimed.

Instead, I find myself smiling against his lips. “Guess I am.”

Because some things are worth surrendering for. Some connections are worth the risk of pain.

And this fierce, broken, beautiful man holding me like I’m something precious?

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