Page 69 of Knot Your Sugar

James and Cole both look at Dorian in surprise, their eyebrows shooting up in unison. Dorian’s brow furrows, a flicker of… something… crossing his usually composed features. "That’s not—"

"Or perhaps by giving me unsolicited, ultimately unhelpful advice that almost cost me my win in the ‘Taste It, Now Make It’ challenge?" I turn to James, my voice now sharp.

He has the decency to look chagrined, a faint flush rising on his cheeks. "I genuinely thought that would help, Elena. Your scent… it was making me a little…" He trails off, looking flustered.

"Or maybe," I continue, relentlessly, turning my attention to Cole now, "by showing up at my station during the workshop, distracting me until I could barely pipe a straight line?"

"I was trying to warn you," he says quietly, his usual calm wavering slightly, a hint of hurt in his hazel eyes.

"You were all trying tomanageme," I counter, my voice rising, fueled by a potent cocktail of fear and fury. "And you're still doing it now. The three of you, huddled together, discussing me, my body, my future, like you’re forming some kind of… pack."

Their scents shift subtly in the small, enclosed space, growing stronger, more potent. My omega instincts, now screamingly awake, recognize it for what it is, a response to my distress. But all I see, all Ifeel, is three powerful alphas closing ranks, their combined presence and scents becoming almost… overwhelming.

"What we're trying to do, Elena," Dorian says, his voice laced with a forced patience that only fans the flames of my anger, "isprovide you with the information you need so you can make your own, informed decisions."

"Decisions like what?" I practically spit the words out. "Pumping myself full of meds or whatever, so long as I play nice?" They have no idea I normally have that covered all on my own…

"That's not what we want at all!" Cole begins.

"Isn't it?" I lean forward. "Because from where I'm sitting, the three of you have been pushing me in directions that suityouragenda,yourdesires, since this whole insane conversation began. Since this festival began, if I’m being honest."

James shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his gaze dropping. "Elena—"

"No," I cut him off. "I have dreams of my own, dreams that have nothing to do with any of you. I want my own bakery, with my own recipes, right here in this ‘small town’ that you seem to look down on, Dorian."

His jaw tightens, a muscle flexing in his cheek. "I never said—"

"You didn't have to." I feel reckless now, consumed by a desperate rage. "And you know what? You all seem to be actively workingagainstmy dreams right now. I told you, Ineededto get in the right headspace for tomorrow. This competition, this win, it’s important tome. I’ve heard what you had to say, and my answer is no. I refuse. I'm going back to my life. The one where I’m free to pursue whatever I want, without getting sabotaged by well-meaning alphas." I look directly at James as I say the last word, and he flinches, his gaze falling away.

The tension in the booth crystallizes, becoming sharp, almost dangerous. Their scents intensify again, swirling around me, a confusing, intoxicating, infuriating blend of alpha pheromones that my body, my treacherous omega body, is soaking up like a sponge. I can practically taste their frustration, their concern, their…want.

"You're not thinking clearly, Elena," Dorian says. "If you'd just consider—"

"Why do you evencareso much?" I interrupt, the question bursting out of me. "What is it to any of you if I have a ‘biological challenge’ tomorrow?"

Dorian opens his mouth, then closes it, a strange, almost tormented look crossing his face. He takes a breath. "Because, Elena… because I think… I might be falli—" He stops abruptly, his eyes widening almost imperceptibly, as if he’s shocked by his own near-confession. He clears his throat, his composure slipping for a fraction of a second before he regains control.

The air crackles. I freeze, his unfinished word hanging between us, heavy and loaded.Falling? Falling in what? Love?The idea is so ludicrous, so terrifying, yet so…tempting… that my mind goes completely blank.

The silence stretches, thick and suffocating. I should say something. Move. Reassert control. But I don’t. I stay still, too still, my body betraying me with the smallest tilt toward him and his almost-confession. Like some primal part of me is treacherously giving in, little by—

A low growl slices through my trance.

My head whips around. Dorian and Cole are staring at James, their eyes wide with disbelief. James himself looks utterly mortified, his face flaming red, his hand clapped over his mouth as if he could somehow shove the sound back in.

"Sorry," James mutters, his voice muffled by his hand, his eyes darting frantically between the three of us. "So sorry. I… I didn't mean to—"

"See?" I hiss. "That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? That’s what italwayscomes down to with your kind." My gaze sweeps over all three of them, accusing. "You don't respect me. You don’t seeme. In fact," the words erupt from me, "I don't think any of you evenlikeme as a person. I'm just… I’m just a piece of meat toyou, aren’t I? A biological imperative. An 'omega' to be claimed, to be…owned."

James looks utterly mortified, his eyes pleading. "Elena, no, it’s just… your scent… your anger… it’s making it so much stronger, so… delicious…" he stammers, his words a jumbled apology as his hand instinctively reaches out, briefly touching my arm.

"Take your hand off me." My voice is deadly quiet as I stare at James, my gaze unwavering. "Now."

He jerks his hand back as if burned, his face flushed with shame.

I slide out of the booth, snatching up my purse.

"Elena, please," Dorian says, standing, his height suddenly overwhelming in the confined space.

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