Page 73 of Knot Your Sugar Rush
“Acting like a caged wolf.”
He smirks faintly. “Says the guy who keeps twitching like he’s about to sprint a mile.”
We trade barbs for a while, the way we always do when the air’s too thick. The teasing works, at least partly—it loosens my jaw, makes me forget for a few minutes that every nerve in my body wants to be on my feet.
Cam listens from her corner, her gaze darting between us now and then. I catch her smothering a smile when Theo tells me I’m just slacking to get out of patrols, and I shoot back that I’d beat him in a race even on one leg.
The fire pops, and her laugh—soft, but real—threads through the moment like something precious.
Hours stretch. The light from the single window fades into twilight. Dane returns from his latest check, shakes the rain from his hair, and moves silently around the room. The smell of cool air follows him, crisp and bracing.
Then Cam shifts again, and her voice is so quiet I almost think I imagined it. “I think…I think I’m going to need help.”
The words hang there, heavy as stone.
“Alright,” Theo says first, his tone steady but gentle. “You tell us what you need, and we’ll make sure it happens.”
Her eyes lift, scanning the three of us. I can feel the unspoken weight of her choice pressing against my ribs.
“Dane,” she says, almost a whisper.
For a heartbeat, there’s only the crackle of the fire. Dane straightens, something unreadable flickering across his face. He nods once—steady, sure—but I see the way his jaw clenches, like he’s holding back more.
Theo and I nod, too. Respectful. Supportive. But it doesn’t mean it’s easy. My gut twists, and I can tell from Theo’s brief glance that he feels it too. Not jealousy, exactly. Just that ache of wanting to be the one she trusts enough to ask.
I lean back, my fingers tightening on the armrest, and tell myself it’s fine. We’ll get there.
Right now, what matters is that she’s safe.
Chapter fifty-two
Dane
Idon’t move for a moment after she says my name. It’s quiet enough that I can hear the faint hiss of the fire settling in the hearth, the way the wind presses against the walls outside. She’s looking right at me, her eyes clear but shadowed by what I know it’s costing her to say the words.
I nod once. “Alright.” My voice is steady. It has to be.
The other two stay still—Theo with his arms folded, Jamie leaning forward, both of them holding themselves in check. I can feel it though, that pulse of protectiveness running through all three of us. It’s not possessive. It’s not about pride. It’s that we all want the same thing—for her to be safe, to make it through this without fear.
I get to my feet slowly. No sudden movements, nothing that might feel like I’m closing in too fast. Her scent is laced with heat, faint but unmistakable, curling around my senses and tugging at instincts I’ve been holding down since the first hint of it. My body knows what it wants. My head knows better than to rush her.
The safehouse floor creaks under my boots as I cross the room. It’s warmer near the fire, and warmer still near her.
“Do you want to stay here or move to the bedroom?” I ask quietly. If needed, even Jamie will move outside. This is her call, entirely.
Her breath catches. “Bedroom.”
I give her space, offering my hand without pushing it toward her. She takes it after a moment, her fingers cool but trembling slightly in mine.
Theo moves first, disappearing into the other room. I hear the low thump of him shifting blankets, probably making sure everything’s set and her nest is comfortable. He brings in extra water. Jamie stays where he is, watching us, jaw tight. He doesn’t say anything, but his eyes follow every step I take.
Once Theo is settled, we turn toward the bedroom, the air cooling as we leave the fire behind. The bedroom’s small but cleaner than most places we’ve sheltered—fresh blankets piled high on the bed, the air faintly scented with the herbs Theo tucked under the pillow to help her relax.
I’m not assuming I know the type of help she needs, though I know what I’m hoping for. This isn’t’ about me.
“Do you want me to stay inside with you, or just outside the door?” I ask, keeping my voice even.
Her throat works before she answers. “Inside. Please.”
