Page 110 of Bound By Song

But I don’t look away.

Not when he kneels beside the pile of pillows.

Not when he leans over, bracing one hand in the nest like he might crawl in deeper.

Not even when the scent of him – apple-crisp and warm skin andneed– floods my senses again, thick and intoxicating.

I swallow hard, clutching his shirt like it’s anchoring me.

I’m in so much trouble.

And I don’t want to be anywhere else.

Xar follows, slower, more deliberate. He picks up one of the soft blankets and drapes it over his shoulders for a moment before folding it neatly and setting it on the pile. “Omegas feel safest when their nest smells like their pack,” he murmurs, his eyes on mine. “It’s instinct.”

I can’t dwell on what he’s saying, the subtext in his words, because I know – god, I know – what he’s telling me, but I’m not ready to hear it.

But my omega is.

She leans forward inside me, reaching for him with something primal and aching.

Becausethisalpha?

He’s steady. Controlled. All coiled heat under cool restraint.

The kind of man who would worship you slowly – with intention.

The kind who would guard the nest, not just scent it.

And my body knows it before my mind can catch up.

“More,” I croak out, drinking him in with thirsty eyes. “Clothes…please.”

The last bit is tacked on like an afterthought. Grams would be turning in her grave at my lack of manners – but honestly, she’d probably already burst through the coffin floor over the rest of my behaviour tonight.

Not that it matters. My omega is nearly feral now – gnashing her teeth, impatient, demanding. Waiting for her bidding to be done.

Xar obliges, of course. He doesn’t make a show of it like Blaise did.

Just slides his shirt over his head, folds it. Shrugs off his jeans. Passes them to me without a word, standing there in just black boxer briefs like it’s nothing.

But it’severything.

I snatch the clothes from his hands and bury my face in them like I’m starving.

His scent wraps around me – toasted tonka bean, cashmeran, and cardamom. Comforting. Solid.Home.

Already, my omega begins to settle, muscles unclenching, instincts purring.

These scents are hers.

These alphas are hers.

And the nest is almost complete.

Almost. But not quite.

I look at Dane as he comes back with my blanket in his hands and passes it to me.

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