Page 102 of Reckless: Corruption

The moment stretches between us, something unspoken but significant in the quiet kitchen with evening settling beyond the windows. Then Jinx crashes in, hair still wet from his shower, boundless energy apparently undiminished by a full day of physical labor.

“Food!” he announces with characteristic subtlety. “Sustenance required immediately or death is imminent!”

“There’s leftover lasagna,” Theo informs him, seamlessly shifting into his role as pack caretaker. “And I made fresh bread this morning.”

“You’re a literal angel,” Jinx declares, already moving toward the refrigerator. He pauses to press a kiss to Theo’s cheek, lingering just long enough to make the omega flush. “A divine being of culinary mercy.”

“Just practical,” Theo demurs, though pleasure at the praise colors his voice.

As Jinx raids the refrigerator with joyful abandon, Ryker and Finn join us, drawn by the promise of food and company. The kitchen fills with casual banter and comfortable routine—plates passed, drinks poured, seating arranged without conscious thought. The simple domesticity of it settles something in my chest that’s been restless since the vaccine trial began.

This is what we’re fighting for, I realize as I watch my unlikely family share a meal at the end of a normal day’s work. Not just survival, not just preventing genocide, but the right to ordinary moments. To plan pool parties and argue about barbecue menus and collapse together at the end of the day, exhausted but satisfied.

“Tomorrow,” Jinx announces through a mouthful of lasagna, “we swim. And I will personally throw each of you into the deep end at least once.”

“Try it and lose a limb,” I warn, though there’s no heat in the threat.

“Challenge accepted,” he responds with unholy glee.

As the conversation flows around me—Finn explaining the chemical balance needed for optimal swimming, Ryker suggesting security modifications for the pool area that no normal person would consider, Theo detailing his barbecue vision with artistic precision—I find myself simply absorbing the moment. Memorizing it. Storing it away as something precious amid all the danger and darkness.

Because tomorrow we’ll swim and eat and pretend the world isn’t falling apart. And the day after that, we’ll return to planning the Aurora Facility mission, to developing Mona’s vaccine, to fighting my father’s genocidal vision.

But for now—for this one perfect evening of normal—we’re just people. Broken and strange and improbably fitted together, planning a pool party like it’s the most important mission we’ve ever undertaken.

Mid-dessert, just as I’m starting to believe we might actually have one complete normal evening, Theo suddenly stiffens. His spoon clatters against the bowl as his body goes rigid. His spoon clatters against the bowl as his body goes rigid, the suppressants that have been gradually weakening all day suddenly giving way to a heat flare. A wave of heat shimmers off him, visible in theway the air distorts around his skin, like watching asphalt on a summer day. His scent shifts dramatically, the dark vanilla that’s been deepening hourly now bursting into something rich and potent that fills the room like smoke.

Jinx’s nostrils flare immediately, his body responding before his mind seems to process what’s happening. His eyes meet Theo’s across the table, understanding passing between them with primal clarity.

“Time’s up, piccolo,” he says, surprisingly gentle as he rises from his chair. “Suppressants just failed.”

“It’s just a flair.” Theo makes a sound that’s half frustration, half relief. “True heat and I wouldn’t be at all lucid.”

“Biology’s a bitch,” Jinx says simply, moving to help him stand. “Come on. I’ll take care of this flair.”

My breath catches as I watch them move toward the door, Jinx’s hand at the small of Theo’s back, protective and possessive simultaneously. Something warm and unfamiliar curls in my stomach—not jealousy, but something closer to anticipation.

I kind of want to watch that, whatever comes next between them.

Not going to lie, even to myself anymore.

Chapter 21

Jinx

The walkto my room feels like a fucking marathon, with Theo’s body radiating heat like a nuclear reactor against my side. Each step sends another wave of his scent crashing over me—dark vanilla transforming into something that smells like sin incarnate, woodsmoke and midnight and raw sex. His usually fluid movements have gone jagged, like someone’s replaced his graceful choreography with violent stop-motion.

“Almost there,” I mutter, not sure if I’m reassuring him or myself as we navigate the mansion’s dimly lit corridor. My body’s already firing on all cylinders—alpha instincts surging to meet omega need like they were fucking hard-wired into my DNA, every cell vibrating with awareness of the omega heat-scent filling the narrow space between us.

“Not fast enough,” Theo growls, voice dropping to that danger-zone register that makes my spine tingle. His fingers dig into my shoulder hard enough to leave bruises I’ll admire tomorrow. “Jinx, I can’t?—”

“You can,” I counter, kicking my bedroom door open with enough force to rattle the hinges. “You’ve got this, piccolo. We’ve been here before.”

The moment we cross the threshold, Theo slams me against the wall hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs. The door crashes shut, and suddenly I’m pinned by ninety pounds of artistic fury, his eyes blown black with need while his jaw clenches tight enough to crack teeth.

“Is this what you want?” I ask, not fighting his hold though we both know I could break it with about two percent effort. Physical strength has never been the point between us. “Me, not Ryker?”

“You,” he confirms, the word scraping out like it’s been dragged over broken glass. His pupils have completely swallowed the iris, skin flushed like he’s running a fever that would hospitalize a normal person. “Need you, Jinx. Need this now.”

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