Page 76 of Knot Your Sugar Rush
She’s still asleep when I open my eyes, curled small in the bed with one arm tucked beneath her cheek. The light slipping through the blinds is soft, golden, and paints her hair in a warm halo. I lie there longer than I should, letting myself watch her. Last night’s memories hover between us—still vivid, but not sharp anymore—just a steady reminder of how much she trusted me when she didn’t have to. Her breathing is deep and slow, her scent calmer now, though beneath it lingers that warm, pulsing undertone of heat that tugs at me in quiet ways. My instincts whisper to close the distance, to wrap her in my arms and keep her safe, but I stay put. She’s not mine to take—she’s mine to protect.
Her lashes flutter, and she blinks up at me, voice still thick with sleep. “Morning.”
“Morning,” I answer, keeping my voice low. “How’re you feeling?”
She stretches, slow and lazy, then winces at some hidden ache. “Better. But starving.”
I smile faintly. “That, I can fix.” We get up together, get dressed, and I offer my hand without thinking. Her fingers are warm, smaller than mine, her grip steady despite the lingering flush in her cheeks. She doesn’t let go until we step into the main room.
Theo’s at the stove, sleeves rolled, the air filled with the smell of eggs and herbs with something faintly sweet underneath. Jamie’s propped in a chair, leg stretched out, watching Theo like he’s half amused and half ready to stir trouble. Theo glances over, his shoulders easing when he sees her. “You’re up.”
“Yeah,” she says, smiling faintly. “Thanks for last night. All of you.”
Theo plates up breakfast, sliding the biggest serving toward her. “Eat first. Talking can wait.”
She laughs under her breath. “Not sure if that’s an order or just alpha bossiness.”
“Both,” Theo says with a smirk.
Jamie groans. “You’re gonna spoil her, and then what? She’ll expect me to cook when I can barely boil water.”
She shakes her head, but there’s warmth in her eyes. She eats, and Theo quietly adds little extras to her plate without asking, pretending it’s just because there’s more to go around. Jamie starts telling some exaggerated fishing story, and when she laughs, it’s the kind that settles deep in your chest. She leans on her hand, just watching us, and I feel her guard drop another notch. Her scent shifts now and then—heat winding through the air—and I know Theo notices. Jamie too, though he’s careful not to stare.
When she’s done, she pushes her plate away with a soft sigh. “That was the best breakfast I’ve had in years.”
Theo shrugs, already taking her plate. “That’s because you’ve been eating ration packs.”
Jamie grins. “Don’t let him fool you. This is the most effort I’ve seen him put into breakfast in months.”
Theo glares at him without heat, and the moment stretches warm and easy. It’s a rhythm I didn’t expect to find, something unhurried and good, and I realize I don’t want to move from it.
I don’t want it to be temporary. I don’t know if I’m ready to leave Starling Grove, now that I’ve found her.
Chapter fifty-five
Cam
Breakfast and their scents take it out of me, and I retreat back to my nest, which smells soothingly of Dane. I flush, thinking of his lips and knot last night, and settle back in.
I drift until a knock at my door. My voice comes out small, ragged. “Yeah?”
The door eases open, and they fill the space—three broad silhouettes against the dim light from the hall. Theo in front, eyes sharp and assessing. Dane behind him, shoulders loose but gaze fixed on me like he’s measuring my every breath. Jamie leans on Theo’s side, his leg braced, but his focus is no less direct.
“I’m fine,” I try, but the words melt into a quiet exhale when I shift and the ache pulses low in my belly. The heat’s still there—muted from last night, but still curling, still coaxing. My skin feels flushed, like I’ve been standing too close to a fire, and every inhale drags their scent deeper into me.
Theo steps in first, crouching a little so he’s eye level. “You look pale.” His voice is low, the kind you’d use to calm skittishanimals—or omegas who don’t want to admit they’re still struggling.
I shrug one shoulder. “I’m… warm. Just tired.” It’s mostly true.
Dane doesn’t buy it. He’s already scanning the room, like he’s checking for hidden dangers in the corners, and when his eyes come back to me they soften just a fraction. “You’ve been through a lot. You don’t have to put on a brave face for us.”
Their scents are heavier here—Theo’s clean spice, Dane’s deeper earth, Jamie’s warmer musk—and together they settle over me like a weighted blanket. My pulse steadies even as the heat stirs again. I hate that my body reads all this as safety and want at the same time. I’m not ready for… more. But my omega instincts are greedy.
Jamie leans on the doorframe, watching quietly. “Do you need anything right now? Water, food, a cool cloth?”
I shake my head. “No. I think I just need… quiet. And maybe the window open.”
Theo moves immediately, unlatching the window so the sea air drifts in. It’s cool and salt-sharp, and I breathe it in until my shoulders loosen. Dane lingers closer to the door, but he’s angled himself so if I look up, I see him watching the hall, guarding. Always guarding.
