Page 44 of Knot Your Sugar Rush (Starling Grove #2)

Chapter forty-four

Dane

T he creak of a floorboard wakes me. At first, I think it’s just the old house settling, but when I open my eyes, the bed in the far corner is empty. The quilt she’d been under is crumpled, one corner hanging off the side like it had been pushed away in a hurry.

I ease up from the chair by the front door, my muscles stiff from sleeping in it, and scan the room. Theo’s still on the couch, though his head has turned toward her empty bed. His eyes flick open, catching mine instantly.

“She’s not there,” he murmurs, voice low enough not to wake Jamie.

Jamie’s already half-awake anyway, blinking and frowning when he follows our gaze. “She go to the bathroom?” he whispers.

I shake my head. “Back door latch clicked a few minutes ago.” My voice stays calm, but my gut’s already knotting.

Theo swings his legs down, bare feet landing softly. “Then she’s outside?” There’s something in his tone—concern, but also a sharper note, the kind that comes when instinct has already connected the dots.

Jamie exhales slowly. “You smelled it too.”

I nod once. “Yeah.” The change in her scent is subtle, not the full bloom of heat, but enough to put every nerve on alert. It’s tangled with something else—stress, maybe fear. She’s running warm, and not just from the blanket.

Theo’s jaw tightens. “If we all go out there…”

“It’ll be too much,” I finish for him. The last thing she needs is three alphas crowding her when she’s already unsettled. “I’ll go. Stay downwind.”

Jamie scrubs a hand over his face, worry sharpening the lines of his mouth. “You sure you can handle it?”

I give him a flat look. “Not my first time, Jamie.”

“Yeah, but it’s her ,” he says, and it’s not teasing, not even a little.

That lands heavier than I like, but I push past it. “I’ll make sure she’s safe. That’s all.”

Theo leans back into the couch, but he doesn’t relax. “If anything changes, you call.”

“Always.”

I slip out the door quietly, letting it close behind me with only a faint click.

The night air hits like a blessing—cool, damp with the smell of pine and wet earth.

I follow the curve of the house and she’s easy to find, sitting by the porch’s railing with her arms wrapped tight around herself.

Moonlight paints her hair in silver streaks, catching in the loose strands that the breeze toys with.

I stop, close enough to see her clearly but far enough that my scent won’t roll over her.

Every cell in my body is telling me to go to her. My instincts roar for me to step forward, close the gap, wrap her up in my arms and anchor her until the tension leaves her shoulders. The urge is almost physical, a restless ache that makes my fingers curl against my thighs.

I know she’s too warm already, her body fighting itself. I can feel it from here, the subtle pulse of heat threaded through her scent—mixed with something sharper. Not fear exactly, but unease. A private battle she’s fighting under the surface.

I shift my weight, bracing one hand against the porch post, forcing myself to stay put. She doesn’t need an alpha right now—she needs space. Space to breathe, to get her bearings, to decide what she wants without feeling boxed in.

But my instincts don’t care about reason.

They whisper that she looks small out here in the dark, that her skin is flushed, that the night air can’t be enough to cool her.

I track every small motion: the way her fingers flex against her own arms, the slow, deliberate way she draws in each breath like she’s willing herself to calm down.

It’s a quiet war inside me—half of me ready to cross the distance and keep her safe, the other half forcing my boots to stay planted. I imagine the feel of her under my hands, warm and trembling, and clamp down on the thought before it can get any further. Not now. Not like this.

Her head tips back, eyes closed to the moonlight. I stay where I am, letting the cool wind carry her scent just enough for me to know she’s still there, still holding on. Watching without closing in. Protecting without touching.

Through the warped glass of the window, I catch Theo’s reflection—leaning forward, alert—and Jamie’s shadow beside him. Even without words, we’re on the same page: whatever happens tonight, we’ll see her through it, on her terms.