Page 50 of Knot Your Sugar Rush (Starling Grove #2)

Chapter fifty

Cam

I wake with the taste of heat already on my tongue.

It’s not just warmth—it’s a heavy, curling heat that settles low in my belly, radiating outward until my skin feels too tight, too sensitive. Every inch of me aches like I’ve been stretched on some invisible rack. My body knows before my mind wants to admit it.

I’ve been here before. Not for a long time—not since I thought my heat meant trust and promises and a future that wasn’t mine to keep.

The blankets are twisted around my legs, trapping the warmth against me.

My shirt clings to my back, damp. Even the air feels thick, sweet with the mingled scents of the alphas somewhere beyond my door.

Dane’s calm earthiness. Theo’s sharper pine.

Jamie’s warm leather-and-smoke. Each one threads through the air, soft but distinct, and my traitorous body responds, pulse kicking.

I shove the blankets off and sit up slowly, pressing my palms to my thighs until the room steadies.

The safehouse is quiet, the kind of stillness that makes you aware of every tiny sound—the creak of the wood when I shift my weight, the distant hum of the wind slipping past the eaves.

Somewhere, I hear a chair scrape gently across the floor.

I try to breathe past the pulse in my throat. This isn’t just warmth anymore. This is the beginning.

Through the cracked door which allows the breeze in, I catch the faintest glimpse of movement—Theo crossing the room, passing something to Dane. Their voices are low, careful. Protective.

Part of me wants to cling to my stubborn refusal, to keep this locked away until it passes, until I’m safe from wanting. But my body doesn’t care about vows or betrayals. It remembers how it felt to be touched, even if that memory is tangled with lies.

I shift, my gaze drifting to the kitchen, where Jamie sits with his injured leg propped on a chair, Theo crouched beside him checking the bandage. Dane stands nearby, arms crossed, but his eyes keep flicking toward my door like a tether he can’t cut.

The longer I watch them, the more the heat changes. It’s still sharp at the edges, still painful—but it’s threaded with something else now. Something quieter. Curious.

My gaze lingers on each of them in turn. Dane, steady and grounded, always watching without pressing. Theo, sharp but gentle when it matters, the kind of man who’d build you shelter in a storm. Jamie, warm and quick with a smile, even injured, even now.

I curl my fingers tighter around my knees, closing my eyes against the wave of longing that follows.

When I open them again, the room hasn’t changed—but I have. The heat feels different now. Less like an enemy to fight, more like a tide I’ll eventually have to let pull me under.

The hinges of my door make the faintest sigh when I open it wider.

I tell myself I’m only stepping out because I need water, but my pulse stutters anyway when three sets of eyes immediately turn toward me.

Dane is the first to look away—too quickly, like he’s forcing himself to break the connection.

He’s standing near the hearth, one arm resting on the mantel, the fire’s glow carving warm lines along his jaw.

Theo is crouched beside Jamie, one broad hand steadying his friend’s injured leg as he adjusts the blanket.

Jamie’s gaze lingers longest, not sharp, just… studying.

They’re quiet for a breath too long, and I realize the air in the room feels different—charged. I know what it is. They’ve caught it. The shift in my scent, softened but undeniable, curling through the space between us.

“Hey,” Jamie says finally, his voice light but warm. “You okay?”

I nod, my fingers worrying at the hem of my shirt. “Just thirsty.”

Theo’s eyes flick to Dane, the kind of glance that holds a whole conversation in a heartbeat.

Dane moves before I can puzzle it out, crossing the room to pour a glass from the canteen.

His movements are deliberate, steady—everything about him screaming safe even as I sense the way his body is coiled to move if I stumble.

When he hands me the glass, his fingers almost brush mine. Almost. The warmth in his eyes is so steady I have to look away.

Jamie shifts in his seat, wincing when he moves his leg. Theo fusses with the blanket again, muttering something under his breath.

“Since when are you the nurturing one?” Jamie teases, a smirk tugging at his mouth.

Theo rolls his eyes. “Since you decided to get yourself half-crushed in a ruin, maybe.”

Their banter makes something in my chest loosen, the sharp edge of my awareness smoothing out just enough to let me breathe.

But then a wave of warmth rolls through me, sudden and stronger than before. I curl my fingers around the glass, grounding myself in the cool bite of the water as I drink.

They notice. I can see it in the way Dane’s jaw tightens slightly, in the way Theo’s teasing fades for a fraction of a second. Jamie’s eyes soften, his smirk dimming into something quieter.

No one says it out loud, but the air feels like a silent pact settling around us.

Protect her. Keep her safe.