Page 84 of Knot Your Sugar

"Elena? You okay?" Cole’s voice is a warm wave of concern, his hand instantly, steadyingly at my elbow as his scent flares with protective worry.

"Mostly," I manage, my voice strangled into a squeak that’s definitely not champion material. "But, um… I think our romantic moments on stage might have just officially kicked my heat into gear."

The three alphas exchange glances that could only be described as ‘Oh, crap.’

Their scents, which had settled into a simmer after my…quickie… with Dorian, now roar back to life, swirling together into a heady, knee-weakening cocktail that my body isveryinterested in sampling. Extensively.

"Holy cannoli, what do we do?" James blurts out, his usual swagger deflating into wide-eyed panic.

Dorian, ever the cool-headed strategist, is already whipping out his phone, his thumb tapping with terrifying efficiency. "My villa. We'll take one of my cars." He says it with the calm authority of someone who regularly navigates hostile takeovers.

A laugh, slightly hysterical, bubbles out of me despite the next wave of discomfort making my toes curl. "Of course this would happennow. Because my life’s motto is clearly 'Timing is everything.'"

Another cramp hits, sharper this time, and I sway. Cole steps closer.

"Permission to deploy Operation: Human Chariot?" he asks quietly, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips.

I nod, past caring about dignity. "Permission desperately granted."

In one smooth, surprisingly effortless motion, he scoops me into his arms (making my inner omega squeal in the best way). The contact, even through layers of clothing, sends little zings of electricity across my hypersensitive skin.

Dorian and James, bless their alpha instincts, immediately flank us, parting the now-gaping crowd like seasoned bodyguards clearing a path for royalty. Faces rush past in a blur of wide eyes, parted lips, and the flash of phone cameras. But my focus narrows: Cole’s strong arms, the heady mix of alpha scents wrapping around me like a shield… and the demanding throb building deep inside me.

"Marcus is bringing one of the cars to the east exit," I hear Dorian say, snapping his phone shut, his voice a calm command cutting through the din. "It'll be waiting. James, handle the local press."

"Journalists?Now?" James exclaims with mock horror, then winks, his swagger snapping back into place. "Don’t worry,Elena, darling! I shall dazzle them with my verbosity and rugged charm. They won't know what hit 'em."

As we near the exit, a small gaggle of local reporters, smelling a story juicier than my tart, descends. Camera flashes pop like rogue fireworks.

"Mr. Beaumont! Ms. Avery! Over here! What’s the scoop? Are you dating?"

James steps forward, a shield of grins and distracting banter. "Whoa there, folks! Give the champion some air! She’s overcome with joy, and possibly too much sugar. Normal after such a sweet victory. We’re just taking her for a quick check-up to make sure her heart isn't confusing excitement with cardiac arrest." I bury my face against Cole's chest, half mortified, half giggling.

A Bentley, clearly part of Dorian's fleet, glides to the curb. Cole, with surprising gentleness for a man his size, maneuvers me into the plush leather backseat, the cool material a temporary balm. He slides in beside me as Dorian takes the other side. A few seconds later, James appears slightly breathless, hopping into the front passenger seat.

"North road, Marcus," Dorian instructs the driver. "Let's avoid the main highway bustle."

"Yes, Mr. Beaumont."

I rest my head against Cole’s shoulder, trying to breathe through the escalating waves of heat. Every nerve ending is doing the tango. The car is now saturated with three prime alphas and one rapidly ripening omega. Itshouldbe overwhelming. Instead, it feels… right. Safe.

"How far to this sanctuary of yours?" Cole asks, his voice a low rumble.

"Twenty minutes, give or take," Dorian replies.

James bounces his knee. "Should we make a pit stop? You know, for… supplies? Champagne, maybe?

Dorian offers a rare, small smile. "The villa is fully stocked. One must always be prepared for the… unexpected."

I manage a sound that's half groan, half snort. "Of course it is. It’s completely normal to have a heat-readiness kit on standby."

"Well," Dorian replies, with a perfectly straight face, "let's just say I had a small hunch on the events..."

The car winds its way into the wooded hills, weaving past sprawling estates tucked behind stone walls and iron gates. Eventually, we turn onto a private drive, where terraced gardens spill gracefully down the hillside, framing a view of the lake.

A quiet sigh escapes me. The villa is every bit as breathtaking in the daylight as it was under the stars.

"This is your little weekend spot?" Cole asks, his voice tinged with awe.

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