32. Elena
Chapter thirty-two
Elena
"Welcome, bakers, to our final workshop before the grand finale tomorrow!
" Judge Chen announces. "This is a low-pressure, purely for-fun session on advanced decorative techniques.
Think of it as a chance to play, to relax, to let your creative muscles stretch a bit before the main event.
No judging, no critiques, just pure, joyful artistry! "
I try to summon some of that joyful artistry, I really do. My station is a Willy Wonka-esque dream of tempered chocolate in various shades, an arsenal of gleaming piping tips, and tiny pots filled with shimmering edible glitter, sugar flowers, and dragees.
It should be fun. A delightful, low-stakes romp through the prettier side of pastry.
But my focus is shot. My hands, usually so steady, tremble as I attempt to pipe a chocolate lace design onto parchment paper.
I'm not sure what's happening… only that the single pill I took this morning clearly isn’t enough.
"How’s the… uh… joyful artistry going over here, Elena?"
I nearly snap my piping bag in half as Cole materializes beside my workstation, with a small, hesitant smile.
"About as relaxing as trying to juggle live eels while riding a unicycle," I manage, gesturing with a shaky hand toward my rather pathetic attempt at chocolate lace, which looks more like a melted spiderweb.
"One wrong move and the whole damn thing shatters into a million un-artistic pieces.
" My voice sounds sharper than I intend.
"I'm sure it's not that bad," he says, leaning in for a closer look.
His proximity sends my senses into overdrive. I can clearly smell the cedar coming off him, and it's making my hands tremble harder.
"Are you okay?" Cole asks, his brow furrowing with concern. "You look a little flushed."
"I'm fine," I say too quickly. "Just warm in here."
"It's actually pretty cool today," he says, looking even more concerned. "Do you want some water?"
"No, I—" I break off as I attempt another chocolate decoration and my hand shakes so badly that chocolate splatters across the workstation. "Dammit!"
Cole grabs some paper towels and helps me clean up, his movements quick and efficient. "Maybe you should take a break."
"I don't need a break," I snap, then immediately regret my tone. "Sorry. I just... I'm having an off day."
He studies me for a moment, shifting his weight from foot to foot.
"I… I don’t want to sabotage your focus, or anything.
I know how important tomorrow is to you.
" He takes a deep, slightly awkward breath, his gaze flicking around before settling back on me, his hazel eyes full of a strange mixture of determination and apprehension.
"But… actually… there’s something I… need to talk to you about. Something important."
The sudden change in his tone, the gravity in his expression, makes my heart stutter, then begin to pound a frantically. "What’s wrong, Cole?" I ask, my voice barely a whisper. "Is it… is it about the festival? About my baking?"
He glances around the workshop again, at the other contestants absorbed in their own sugary creations.
Then he looks back at me, his expression earnest, almost pleading.
"Not here," he says, his voice so low I have to strain to hear him.
"Can we… can we go somewhere a little more private? Just for a few minutes?"
Something about his tone sets off alarm bells in my head, but I nod, wiping my suddenly clammy hands on a towel.
I’m alone at my workstation. James, for some reason only known to his mercurial alpha brain, decided to commandeer an empty station at the far end of the competition area this afternoon.
But even with the relative privacy of my own little station, Cole is right.
This conversation doesn’t feel like one for public consumption.
"Fine," I agree, trying to keep my voice steady. "Lead the way."
Cole leads me to a quiet spot near the edge of the woods, just a few minutes from the competition area. It’s secluded enough that no one should overhear us.
"You’re scaring me, Cole." I cross my arms, trying to ignore the small pounding starting behind my eyes. "What's going on?"
Cole takes a deep breath, his hands flexing at his sides.
"There's no easy way to say this, so I'm just going to be direct.
" He pauses, looking… adorably awkward. And utterly terrified.
Which, in turn, terrifies me . "Elena," he begins, his voice rough, his gaze fixed on mine with an almost painful intensity.
"James, Dorian, and I… we’ve all noticed something different about you today. "
My heart stutters, then plummets. My medication. They know. The thought hits me like a sledgehammer to the chest. "Different?" I manage, my voice a strangled whisper. "Different… how?"
"Your scent, Elena," he says, his voice dropping even lower. "It’s… it’s stronger now. More distinct. More… noticeable."
Ice, cold and sharp, slides down my spine. My carefully constructed world, my secret, it’s all… unraveling. "I… I’m not sure what you mean, Cole," I lie, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. "You know betas don't have a smell, or if they do, it's usually pretty neutral."
"Elena." His hazel eyes hold mine, gentle but unwavering. "Please. Just listen. We all smelled the same thing from you today. The same underlying notes. In remarkable detail. Which is impossible unless…" He hesitates.
"Unless what, Cole?" I whisper, though I already know. Oh, God. The air suddenly feels too thick to breathe.
"Unless," he finishes, his voice impossibly gentle, yet every word a hammer blow against my crumbling defenses. "Unless… you’re an omega." He takes another deep, shaky breath, his gaze never leaving mine. "And more than that… Elena, we think… that we’re your scent matches."
* * *
"What?" I manage to keep my voice level through sheer force of will.
Cole takes a small, almost hesitant step closer, his expression achingly sincere.
"Elena, please, just hear me out. We all smell the same notes in your scent.
" He takes a deep slightly ragged breath, his pupils dilating as he practically eats me with his eyes.
"And the way we’re all… drawn to you. The way our own instincts are reacting…
Elena, we believe you are a late-blooming omega and our scent match. "
"Omega?" I scoff, the lie tasting bitter on my tongue, even as years of ingrained practice makes it sound almost convincing. "A late-blooming omega? Cole, that’s ridiculous! Don’t make me laugh.
" My heart is hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird, desperate for escape.
"And scent matches? All three of you, whom I'd never met until recently?
With me ? Come on, what would be the odds! "
"Elena—"
"Look," I continue, the words tumbling out in a desperate rush, "I’m not denying there’s… something between us. Between all of us. An attraction. A connection. You all smell… good. To me. Really good… But I’m not irresistibly pulled to any of you.
No offense intended. I’m still… me. Elena.
The beta baker." Another lie, but a necessary one. I can’t let them know how much my body responds to them.
Especially not now that my control's hanging by a thread.
"But we couldn’t all be imagining it, Elena," Cole insists, his voice still impossibly gentle.
Cold, stark fear, sharp and piercing, curls deep in my stomach. I need to shut this down. Now. Before it’s too late.
"You’re wrong about this, Cole," I say, my voice firmer now, colder, as I cross my arms over my chest. "You’re all wrong. Maybe the three of you have just been spending a little too much time together, sharing theories, letting your alpha imaginations run wild. Or maybe you’re all just…
projecting. Projecting some kind of… fetish. "
The hurt that flashes across his face makes me want to take it back, but I can't. I can't let them in, I can't let them know the truth.
"I need to stay focused, Cole," I add, my voice softer now, but no less determined. "Tomorrow’s final competition, it’s everything to me. It’s my future. I can’t get distracted by… whatever this is."
Silences stretches between us as he studies me for a long moment.
"I know this is hard to swallow Elena," he says finally. "But if you are just starting to present, then you’re likely to enter a heat cycle. Soon. Which could definitely affect your performance tomorrow. That’s why I felt, we felt, you should know now.
So you could… prepare yourself. Maybe take suppressants or something. "
"My performance is none of your business," I hiss, just as another cramp twists through my abdomen, a perfect punctuation mark of irony.
"We just… we wanted to give you time," he continues, his voice still impossibly gentle, which only infuriates me. "Like I said… to get proper medical advice. Or suppressants, if that’s what you choose. We just didn’t want you to be blindsided during the final."
"We should talk about this properly, Elena, about what it could mean," he adds, his brows furrowed. "All of us. Together. Tonight, maybe? This way, we can figure this out. As a… group."
The thought of facing all three of them, discussing my biology like it's some sort of group project, makes something inside me snap.
"No," I say firmly. "I don't need a meeting. I don't need your concern. What I need is to focus on winning tomorrow."
Cole looks genuinely confused by my reaction. "Elena, this isn't something you should handle alone. If we really are your scent matches—"
"Stop saying this like you already know it's true."
His brows furrow again. "We're trying to help."
"By deciding what I am without asking me? By assuming I don't know my own body?" The words spill out, sharp and fast.
"That's not—"
"I need space," I say, taking a step back as another wave of heat washes over me. "As I said, I have a competition to win tomorrow, and I can't do that if I'm dealing with... this."
"Elena—" He reaches out.
"Don't," I warn, my voice cracking. "Please, just... leave me alone. All of you."
I walk away before he can respond, my legs shaking with each step. I don't stop until I reach a quiet spot behind a vendor stall, where I sink onto a bench, my head in my hands.
They know. They fucking know.
Not the whole truth, sure. But enough. Enough to destroy everything I’ve worked so hard to build.
I press a shaking hand to my chest, trying to force my ragged breathing back under control. The world I’ve so meticulously built around myself. My safe, predictable world is crumbling around me, and I'm not sure what I can do to stop it.
And the worst part is, Cole, James, Dorian, they might just be right.
The pull I feel toward each of them. The way my body responds.
The comfort, the unsettling sense of rightness I feel in their presence.
Their scents . God, their scents have been affecting me since the moment I met them.
And now that my medication seems to be failing, they're starting to drive me crazy.
Scent matches … Not with one, but three alphas. What I've been afraid of my entire adult life…
"No," I whisper to the air. "No. I can’t. I can’t do this."
I’ve seen what happens to omegas who bond with alphas.
I’ve watched my own mother wither away after my father left, the severed bond destroying her from the inside out.
I’ve witnessed friends, smart, ambitious, vibrant women, disappear into their relationships, into their packs, becoming pale, watered-down shadows of their former selves.
I will not let that happen to me. I will not let biology dictate my future and destroy my dreams.
I dig my nails into my palms, the sharp pain bringing a sliver of clarity. I need a plan. I need to regain control.
I need to win tomorrow. That much hasn’t changed. That much is still within my grasp.
And to do that, I need to create distance.
Real, significant, impenetrable distance between myself and those three alphas.
Until I can get more DuoBlocks. Until this festival is over.
Until they’re all gone from Lakeview. The less time I spend around them, the less I’m exposed to their scents, the better.
I always knew this was temporary anyway. That’s why I allowed myself to give in in the first place. Because it was safe. Because it had an expiration date. I cling to that reminder now like a drowning woman to driftwood… even as tears prick at my eyes.
But I only allow myself this moment of grief.
I straighten my spine, brush away the moisture from my eyes, and force myself to focus. Time to remember what I'm here to do, and what’s at stake if I don’t.