Page 48 of Knot Your Sugar

Chapter twenty-five

Dorian

The Lake's Edge is decidedly less chaotic tonight. A smattering of locals drink their pints, a few contestants are scattered about, replaying their foraging day, and then there’s me, nursing a decidedly expensive scotch at the bar, my head full of Elena.

Seeing her bathed in the golden light of the alcove, her eyes lit with that fierce yet hesitant passion as she spoke about her baking… the image keeps looping in my mind.Mon Dieu, why does this particular beta stir something so deeply protective in me? Sure, her scent is undeniably alluring. And yes, there’s a fire in her that outshines any omega I’ve ever met. But still… she’s a beta.

"Mind if I join you?"

I turn to find Cole settling onto the adjacent barstool, his uniform radiating an aura of quiet authority. There's somethingdifferent about him tonight. A softness around the edges that wasn't there before.

"Please," I reply. "Whiskey?"

"Wouldn't say no to that," he replies, his voice a low rumble.

I nod to the bartender. "Maker's Mark, neat, for my friend here."

We sit in thoughtful silence for a moment after his drink arrives. I appreciate this about him. His ability to simplybe, without needing to fill every silence with meaningless chatter. It’s a rare and undervalued quality in a world that seems increasingly terrified of quiet.

"Saw Elena earlier," he says finally, his voice casual, as he swirls the amber liquid in his glass. "Walked her home after her feedback session."

Something in my chest gives that familiar, unwelcome little clench. Not jealousy, not precisely. More like… a keen, proprietarylonging. A ridiculous, entirely unfounded notion, given our… complicated connection. "Oh?" I manage, keeping my own voice carefully neutral, betraying none of the internal gymnastics currently taking place. "And how did our rising star baker seem?"

"Thoughtful," Cole says, taking a slow, appreciative sip of his whiskey. "Definitely processing things. She did mention your feedback session was… pretty intense."

I can’t help the small, almost involuntary smile that tugs at my lips. "She has a remarkable potential. An authentic voice." I pause, thinking of her hesitant declaration about her idea for the final challenge. "She just needs—"

A wave of sweet perfume and high-pitched giggles cuts through the air. Two omegas, both undeniably beautiful and radiating an almost aggressive level of flirty confidence (fueled, clearly, by more than a few drink), detach themselves from a more sober-looking pack of two and zero in on us.

"Well, hello there, handsome!" one of them, a vivacious blonde with blue eyes that promise a night of questionable decisions, purrs, leaning a little too close to me, her ample cleavage demanding my attention. "Mr. Beaumont, isn't it? Fancy seeing you here. And you, Mr. Uniform!" She turns her dazzling, if slightly unfocused, smile on Cole. "Saved any damsels in distress tonight?"

Her friend, a sultry brunette with a pout that could launch a thousand bad pick-up lines, giggles, her gaze overly bold as she appraises us both like prime cuts of meat. "We could certainly liven things up for youalphas. My friend Brenda here," she gestures to the blonde with a flourish, "isverygood at… livening things up. Aren't you, Bren?"

Brenda lets out a breathy laugh and leans in, eyes glassy and eager. "Only if you like a little heat with your dessert," she purrs, one hand lazily reaching toward my chest.

Their two more sober friends, who look like they’d rather be anywhere else on earth right now, roll their eyes in perfect, exasperated synchronicity. "Brenda! Tiffany! Come on!" one of them hisses, tugging urgently at Brenda’s arm. "They look busy!"

I deploy my most charming, ‘thank you, but my mind is rather inconveniently engaged elsewhere’ smile. "You are both incredibly lovely, ladies, and I am truly flattered by the offer," I say, my tone gentle but unmistakably firm. "But I'm afraid my attention, and I believe the Lieutenant’s as well, is… already very much spoken for tonight."

Cole, to his credit, just nods solemnly, looking every inch the stoic, unavailable hero. "Just enjoying a quiet drink with a friend, ma'am."

Brenda’s smile falters for a millisecond before she recovers with a determined, boozy little toss of her blonde curls. "Oh, come on, don't be such a spoilsport!" Tiffany whines, pouting prettily, her hand inching its way toward my thigh under the bar."We just want to have some fun! And you two look like you knowallabout fun."

Their two more sober, and clearly mortified, friends seize their chance. "Brenda! Tiffany! That's our cue! We aresoleaving! So incredibly lovely to have briefly harassed you, Mr. Beaumont!" And with a series of profuse apologies, nervous smiles, and surprisingly effective leveraging techniques, they manage to steer their giggling, protesting friends away from the bar toward the relative safety of the exit.

"Sorry about that Cole," I say, a wry smile touching my lips as I watch the chaotic retreat. "It seems the festival spirit is running a little high tonight."

Cole just grunts, a hint of weary amusement in his eyes. "Occupational hazard when you’re a person of public interest, I guess. Or just wearing a uniform near tipsy omegas." He takes another sip of his Maker’s Mark. "So, you were saying?"

Ah, yes." I bring my attention back to the far more compelling subject at hand. "Elena has the talent. She has the vision. What she’s missing is belief in herself." I pause, letting the words settle. "That’s what I tried to instill in her during our feedback session this afternoon. Not just by telling her, though I certainly did that, but by trying to make herfeelit."

"Well," Cole muses, his gaze meeting mine with that surprising directness again, "might've worked, Dorian. She told me she was ready to stop running from things. And I don’t think she meant just baking."

The words catch me off guard.Does that mean—

"Makes you wonder, right?" Cole cuts into my thoughts.

"What do you mean?"

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