Page 142 of Bound By Song

Iwake slowly, my body aching, my skin too warm, too sensitive. The nest is wrapped around me, layers of blankets cocooning me in lingering traces of their scent. It soothes something primitive inside me even as my conscious mind recoils.

Heat still lingers low in my belly, a restless pulse between my thighs. Shame twists through me as memories from the night before surface. The way I broke down. The way Xar touched me. The way I begged.

No.

That’snotwhat I’m ashamed of.

I’m ashamed of pushing them away. Of retreating. Of denying myself and my omega what we needed.

I press my lips together and force myself to sit up. My muscles feel weak, exhaustion dragging at my limbs, but I can’t stay curled up and hiding. The storm still rages outside, wind howling against the farmhouse, but inside, the air is thick with warmth. It’s comforting.

Footsteps approach, and I tense automatically. The scent reaches me first – the fresh crisp apple telling me it’s Blaise.

“Morning, honeybee.” His voice is soft, careful. I know what he’s doing – gentling me, treating me like I’m fragile. And maybe I am.

“Morning,” I manage, my throat dry. I glance up as he crouches beside the nest, his sharp green eyes scanning me with concern.

“How are you feeling?”

How am I feeling? Hot. Unsteady. Satisfiedandwanting. Raw in ways I can’t put into words.

I look away, my fingers tightening in the blankets. “Better.” It’s not a lie, exactly. Just not the full truth.

Blaise watches me for a long moment, then nods, his easy smile returning. “Come on. You should eat something.”

I hesitate. The thought of stepping out of the nest, exposing myself to their attention, makes my stomach twist. But I’m not stupid. I know I can’t handle this alone – last night proved that – and I definitely don’t think that’s it, it’s over now.

If anything, I feel like last night was a prologue – like the one at the start of Romeo and Juliet where the Chorus warn of the fucking doom and gloom to come.

Yeah, that’s what last night was. A wake up call. Heats fucking suck. And it’s only going to get worse.

Still, it takes effort to force myself to move, to let him help me up. My body is stiff, every inch of me aware of how close he is, how easy it would be to lean into him, to soak in the heat radiating from his skin. I swallow hard and pull away as soon asI’m standing, ignoring the way his gaze darkens before realising it’s because I’m completely naked.

My cheeks blaze with embarrassment and I mumble a quick “thanks” before diving to the nearest drawer and pulling out a large white t-shirt that feels so soft and smells like toasted vanilla. Xar. With limited other options, I have no choice but to pull it on and then follow Blaise out of the nest, resolutely ignoring his gaze.

Dane is in the kitchen, coffee already brewing on the hob. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, thank god for gas stove tops. If they update the kitchen like they promised, I’m going to make sure we stick with gas.

None of that new-fangled cooking on electric nonsense,Grams would have said.

I giggle.

Dane glances up as I step into the room, his expression unreadable, though his shoulders stiffen like he’s forcing himself not to move toward me.

“Sit,” he says simply, and I obey without thinking, curling into one of the chairs as Xar places a plate of food in front of me.

I should eat. I know I should. But my stomach twists, my body too restless to focus. I pick at the toast, my fingers trembling slightly.

They notice. Of course they do.

“Eviana.” Dane’s voice is quiet but firm. I force myself to meet his gaze. His golden eyes hold steady, assessing me with that sharp, unreadable intensity.

“You need to eat,” he says. “Your heat is coming. Today. And you’re going to need your energy, love.”

I press my lips together and nod, taking a slow bite. The toast is dry in my mouth, but I chew, swallowing past the tightness in my throat.

The silence stretches, and then Blaise clears his throat. “You play piano, don’t you?”

The question catches me off guard. I blink at him. “What?”

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