Page 137 of Bound By Song

I launch myself at him and wrap my arms around his waist.

We curl up on the new sofa, all of us, wrapped in each other and blankets. Blaise produces a half-eaten panettone from somewhere. Xar breaks out spiced nuts and a flask of mulled wine. We eat. We laugh. We touch.

So much touching.

I never knew I could crave the touch of another human being so much. I never knew how touch-starved I was until I met them. I don’t think I could ever get enough of them being in my space.

They tell me their stories.

I knew Blaise grew up on a farm, but he explains that it was with parents who barely noticed he existed. He left when he presented as an alpha and has had no contact with them ever since. As far as he knows they could be dead or alive, but he suspects the former because he thinks his fame would have brought them out of the woodwork looking for handouts.

Xar moved around constantly, bouncing from home to home without any family to call his own, presenting as an alpha at sixteen, but thankfully staying with a decent foster family by then, so things got a little easier for him after that, until his foster brother OD’d, which explains his zero tolerance for drugs with Blaise that they’ve both mentioned a time or two.

Dane has never spoken about his past I realise, but today, he shares it. One line. One truth.

“I left the second I could. Music saved me.”

And just like that, I know them better.

I feel known.

“Thank you,” I whisper. “This is the best Christmas I’ve ever had.”

Xar reaches for my hand. Blaise presses a kiss to my cheek. Dane pulls me closer and rests his forehead to mine.

And when the storm howls again, shaking the windows, we don’t flinch.

Because this – this is home.

EVIANA

The storm rages outside, the wind howling against the windows as though it’s trying to break in, but the fire crackling in the hearth is a welcome contrast. It’s so warm in here, too warm, the heat curling under my skin, making me feel...too much. I’m trying to breathe, trying to stay calm, but every little thing – the way the alphas’ voices hum in the air, the way their scents fill the room – seems to stretch me to my limits.

Blaise is strumming his guitar lazily, the soft hum of the strings failing to ground me in that usual way like nothing else can. His scent is thick and dark, heavy with a touch of something dangerous. It lingers in the air around me, coaxing my nerves into a soft buzz. And Dane, sitting next to me, his steadypresence like a weight, his scent is somehow both calming and unsettling at the same time.

What’s wrong with me? Yesterday was perfect and I never wanted to be away from them. Today I feel like my skin is crawling.

My fingers twitch restlessly against the cushions, and I glance at them, only to find myself rearranging them again, smoothing down the blankets in an attempt to keep my hands busy. I’m fidgeting. And I don’t know why. It’s like my body has forgotten how to sit still. I feel a surge of warmth rush through me, and my breath catches.

It’sthem.

Their alpha presence is like an invisible force that presses in on me from all sides, and my body is responding –toomuch. I can’t stop fidgeting, picking at the blanket, rearranging cushions. Every time I touch something, I have this overwhelming urge to make itperfect. It’s like I’m…nesting or something, and I don’t even realise why, until the thought strikes me so suddenly, it’s almost embarrassing.

My fingers are trembling, and every time my hand brushes against the soft fabric of the blanket, I want to dive into it, bury myself deep, like it’s somehow going to protect me from this pull inside me that I can’t seem to shake.

They’re watching me. I can feel their eyes on me, and I swear it’s making everything worse. It’s like theyknow. They know what’s happening to me, what I’m struggling with. But they don’t say anything, just sit there, waiting.

I’mwaiting, too, for the moment when I can get myself under control, when I won’t feel like I’m going toshatterfrom the inside out.

I tug at the sleeves of Blaise’s hoodie, wanting the feel of it on my skin, something familiar, something that will stop my pulsefrom racing. Why do I want to wear their clothes so badly? Sure, I enjoyed it before, but I never felt like I’ddieif I didn’t.

I don’t even realise I’m doing it until I’m pulling it over my head and burying my nose in the fabric. It’shisscent. Warm and comforting, deep and intense but with a freshness that calms me, and…I just want to drown in it.

God, whatishappening to me? Maybe I should message my sisters and ask? But what would I say? I wish the storm hadn’t knocked the power out. If we still had Wi-Fi I could at least Google my symptoms.

My body pulses with that overwhelming ache again, something raw and primitive that I don’t have the words to describe. My skin burns with it, a fire that keeps spreading, crawling through my veins. I’m so hot, so restless, my legs shifting, my hands going to my neck as if I could pull the heat out of me somehow.

“Evie?” Blaise’s voice is soft, but there’s an edge to it. Like he’s sensing it too, like he can see me struggling to keep my composure. I look up at him, and I hate how my body reacts to the mere sight of him, how I can’t seem to keep myself in check.

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