Page 70 of Bound By Song

Dane’s already stacking the cutlery. “You could, but you won’t. We’ve got it.”

I cross my arms, not quite able to hide the tension crawling up my spine. “I’m not helpless.”

“No one said you were,” Xar adds, quiet but firm as he carries the last of the serving dishes to the sink.

Blaise flashes me a softer smile now, less teasing. “You’re used to doing everything yourself. We get that. But we’re here now, Evie. Let us take care of you. Even if it’s just dishes. We love this shit.”

It shouldn’t feel like a big deal – but it does. The idea of letting someone else take over, of resting, sets off a hundred silent alarms in my brain. Like if I stop moving, stop managing, everything will collapse.

“I don’t really do resting,” I admit.

“Then it’s time to start,” Blaise says with a wink. “Go lie down. Or at least pretend to.”

I hesitate, then nod slowly. “I’ll just get washed up. Get changed.”

No one stops me this time, but I still feel their eyes on my back as I head down the hallway.

The power comes back on as I’m heading upstairs and so I decide to make the most of it by showering.

The bathroom is warm and misty by the time I finish freshening up. My skin still tingles from the shower, my hair damp as I squeeze it out in a towel and lean toward the mirror. The cut on my head is fine. I think the Steristrips were an overreaction. But studying my reflection, there’s a strange quiet in me now, like the storm within me has finally echoed and passed.

I reach for the brush then freeze as I catch movement behind me.

Xar.

He’s there, just inside the doorway, his eyes locked on mine through the mirror. There’s no warning, no sound. Just him, tall and steady, his expression beautifully unreadable.

The memory of the attic slams into me – his mouth on mine, the way I’d clung to him like he was the only solid thing in the world. And then it hits again, sharp and hot: scent.

Mine flares, wild and unfiltered, pouring out before I can stop it. I blush.

Xar inhales, his pupils darkening. He moves forward, slow and sure, closing the door behind him without breaking eye contact.

I turn, my back pressing against the cool edge of the counter as he closes the space between us. My heart stutters in my chest.

He lifts a hand and gently tucks a damp strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers linger against my cheek so carefully.

I lean into the touch without thinking, my eyes fluttering closed. I breathe him in – warm and addictive – and the sigh that slips out of me is completely involuntary. Quiet. Content.

For once, I’m not braced for impact.

Just breathing him in, and being.

His hand lingers at my cheek, heat bleeding into my skin. I don’t move. Don’t want to. The air feels thick between us, full of everything we haven’t said and everything we have, just with touch and scent and silence.

“You always do that,” he murmurs, voice low. “Hold your breath when I’m close.”

My lips part, caught off guard. “I don’t mean to.”

“I know.” His thumb brushes just beneath my jaw, barely there. “It’s like you’re waiting for something bad to happen.”

I look up at him, our eyes meeting again in the mirror. “Old habit.”

His gaze darkens, not with anger, but something heavier. Protective. “You don’t have to brace with us, Eviana. We’re not going anywhere. We’re not going to break you.”

My breath shudders out, unsteady but real. “I don’t know how to do this. Letting people in. It’s…scary. But being around you guys is getting easier. It feels…right.”

“You don’t have to know all the things,” he says, echoing the words he didn’t quite get to say this morning – but softer now, more personal. “We’ll learn together. Step by step. We’re still strangers, really. But we have time to be more.”

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