Page 60 of Knot Your Sugar

I steal a glance at James beside me, his attention locked on the judges. When Dorian makes his comment, I catch the faintest flicker across James’s face. Satisfaction? Disappointment? Regret? It’s gone too quickly for me to tell.

Chapter thirty

James

I sit on a wooden bench at the edge of the festival grounds, absently watching the afternoon crowd drift between the vendor stalls. The ambient laughter and music fade to background noise as my thoughts circle back to this morning's challenge.

More specifically, back to Elena.

Her scent was stronger. More distinct. Like peaches bursting with juice… laced with honey and—

I don’t even get to the end of the thought before the memory makes my fingers curl hard into the wood beneath me.

The moment she stepped into her station today, her scent hit me, and something primal inside mesnapped. Something possessive. Territorial. A fierce urge to pull her close, to shield her, to stake a claim. It was… disconcerting. And more than alittle terrifying, if I’m being honest with myself. Which I’m trying to be. More often, these days. Probably thanks to her.

Which is why, if I honestly reflect on my advice to her, I'm not one hundred percent sure my intentions were in the right place. I mean, consciously, yes. But unconsciously, maybe my alpha wanted to... exert control? The thought leaves a sour taste in my mouth. Even more so since my advice, however well-intentioned I believed it to be, wasn't quite right.

"I fucked up." The words escape my lips before I can catch them, earning curious glances from a passing couple. I force a smile that feels more like a grimace, nodding awkwardly as they continue on their way.

But yet she still won first place today. Iamproud of her for this. Genuinely proud. Even with my father's voice in the back of my head sneering'Second place is just the first loser, James. Reynolds men don’t settle for second best'.

Ugh, I really hate conflicting emotions.

"Mom, can we try the honey tarts? Please?" A small voice pulls me out of my spiral. Nearby, a little girl with pigtails tugs at her mother’s sleeve, pointing eagerly toward a stall.

"We just had churros!" the mother laughs, but she's already reaching for her wallet.

"But these arespecialfestival churros," the girl insists with the impeccable logic of a child.

I find myself smiling despite my mood. The simple joy of a sugar rush, that's something I understand.

But as my thoughts drift back to Elena, something nags at the edge of my consciousness. A possibility I've been avoiding that makes a terrifying amount of sense.

What if Elena isn't actually a beta at all?

It would explain so much. Notably, the way Dorian, Cole, and I seem to be orbiting her like moths to a flame.

But everyone in town seems convinced she's a beta… and she's been here for three years. Surely, she couldn't have been on medication that entire time? That would be incredibly risky for her health. And if she were, how would I be able to smell her so clearly now?

Wait a minute.Logic aside, if she's an omega, and I can detect her scent this strongly, and I'm reacting to her with this much... possessiveness... could we be...?

"It’s unlike you to be brooding."A familiar voice cuts through my thoughts, low and teasing. "Mind if I join you?"

Chapter thirty-one

Cole

I lean against an oak tree at the edge of the now-quiet competitors' area, clipboard in hand, ostensibly reviewing this morning's safety incident reports. The actual words, however, blur into meaningless squiggles. My mind, much like my heightened senses, is fixed on one thing. Or rather, one person.

How was I able to smell her that strongly? That…specifically? Could she…

"Cole."

My head snaps up. Dorian and James are approaching, their expressions a mirror image of my own internal state: serious, concerned, and more than a little bewildered. Like two men who’ve just witnessed a magic trick and are desperately trying to figure out how it was done. Or maybe, like men who’vejust realized they’re all unknowingly part of the same, fragrant illusion.

"Got a minute?" James asks, his usual easy swagger noticeably absent. He glances around, ensuring we're relatively alone.

I nod, tucking the clipboard under my arm. "What's up, guys?"

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