Page 64 of False Catch

His claimed mates.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Bo

The drive back from the chem labs usually calms me down. Windows down, country music turned up, nothing but quiet campus roads between me and whatever's waiting at home. But tonight, something feels different before I even pull into the driveway.

The house is too quiet for a Friday night. No music blasting from Beckett's room, no sounds of Zane baking, no arguing over video games. Just an eerie stillness that makes the hair on my neck stand up.

I grab my overnight bag from the truck bed and head inside through the back door. The moment I step into the mudroom, it hits me.

The scent.

It's everywhere - thick and heavy and unmistakably changed. Sex, yeah, but something more. Something that makes my Alpha instincts roar to life before my brain catches up.

"What the hell..." I mutter, dropping my bag.

Following my nose, I head toward the kitchen where I can hear quiet voices and movement. The scene I walk into looks normal enough - Jackson leaning against the counter while Eli makes coffee, Reese perched on a barstool stealing bites of leftover Chinese food.

But everything about it is wrong. Or different. Or... something.

Jackson looks relaxed. Actually relaxed, not the fake version he usually puts on. His shoulders are loose, his expression open in a way I haven't seen since... ever, actually. Not even before Riverside. He's watching Eli move around the kitchen with this soft look that makes my chest tight.

Eli's different too. There's a confidence in his movements, a settled quality that wasn't there this morning. He brushes past Jackson, their hands touching briefly, and neither of them tenses up.

And Reese...

She's glowing. There's no other word for it. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes bright, and she keeps touching them both - little casual touches like she can't help herself. Her hand on Jackson's arm when she laughs at something. Her fingers brushing Eli's when he hands her a water glass.

They look like... a unit. The three of them moving around each other with the kind of synchronization that usually takes years to develop.

"Hey, Bo," Reese says, turning on the stool to smile at me. "How's your mom?"

The movement shifts her hair, and that's when I see it.

The mark.

It's not subtle. Not something that could be explained away as a hickey or bruise. It's a claiming bite, deep and deliberate, right where her neck meets her shoulder. The skin is still red around the edges, the teeth marks clear.

"Oh, fuck."

The words escape before I can stop them. Reese's hand flies to her neck, trying to cover the mark, but it's too late. I've seen it. And worse, I can smell it now that I know what to look for. Jackson's scent wrapped around her so tight it's part of her now. Claimed. Bonded.

"What?" Gray's voice comes from behind me, and my stomach drops.

He must have come in behind me. I didn't even hear his car. He steps into the kitchen, messenger bag still over his shoulder, and I watch the exact moment he processes what I already know.

His nostrils flare. His eyes go wide, then narrow to slits. His gaze zeroes in on Jackson with laser focus.

"You didn't." His voice is deadly quiet.

Jackson straightens from his lean against the counter, and for the first time in years, I see him meet Gray's authority head-on. There's something almost smug in his expression, a satisfaction that says he's not sorry. Not even a little.

"I did."

Gray moves so fast I barely track it. One second he's in the doorway, the next he's got Jackson by the collar, slamming him back against the refrigerator hard enough to rattle the bottles inside.

"You selfish fucking—"