Page 8 of Bound By Song

My stomach clenches.

Even from here, I can feel it: they’re not just men, they’realphas.

All tall, broad-shouldered, and overwhelming in a way that makes my pulse race and all of my instincts screamdanger.

The first one – golden-haired, scruffy and irritatingly good-looking – scans the farmhouse with sharp, assessing eyes. The second, with wild red locks, is grinning like this is some sort of adventure. His smile is infectious and dangerously disarming. And the third, absolutely ginormous and towering over the others like a solid wall of body-building, body-guarding muscle, with dark hair and a dangerous vibe, looks around like he’s already bored. All three of them are sporting 5 o’clock shadows in different hues, which only makes them look all the more dangerous.

And alluring.

What the hell are they doinghere? There’s no way they can know about me, surely. How could they? But what other reason could there be for their presence if they’re not here to take me away?

There are harsh laws surrounding our designations, none stricter than the rule that states all omegas must be formally registered when their designation first presents.

My sisters and I are not. We’re unregistered. Always have been. We’re ghosts. We don’t exist. We are, in the eyes of the law, fugitives.Illegal,Grams always used to say.

How a person – a human being – can be classed as illegal is incomprehensible to me. Because our guardian failed to fill out the required paperwork when we were younger, it somehow makes us less than human? Somehow it’s paperwork, not a heartbeat, that entitles us to basic human rights?

My heart pounds as they start towards the front door. I stumble back from the window, yanking the curtain shut. They’re going to knock. They’re going to smell me. Everything I’ve worked so hard to protect will unravel…

No.Breathe, Eviana.

They can’t. Theywon’tscent me.

The neutralisers pump steadily through the house, masking any hint of omega scent. It’s one of the ways I’ve managed to stay hidden this long. That, other things, and staying home as much as possible.

But what if it’s not enough? What if?—

A knock reverberates through the old wooden door, startling me out of my spiralling thoughts. I freeze, staring at it as if it might come to life, swing open and betray me.

Another knock. Louder this time.

“Hello?” A deep voice calls out. It’s smooth, confident, and thoroughlyalpha. That voice alone could send an omega into an early heat, but it just fillsmewith terror. “We’re looking for someone. Is anyone home?”

I don’t move. Maybe they’ll think no one’s here. Maybe they’ll just leave.

The second voice pipes up, melodiously light and teasing. “Come on. Doesn’t look like anyone lives here. Are you sure we’ve got the right place? It’s a bit…rough. Even with the label’s punishment.”

Label? They don’t sound like government officials. From my brief glance at them as they climbed out of the huge black Range Rover I can admit they don’tlooklike officials either. They’re dressed far too casually. But maybe that’s part of their plan? They could be undercover omega hunters.

Or worse…

The thought makes me quake.

There’s a pause, and I imagine the first man glaring at him. “The sat-nav says this is the place.”

“Well, maybe it’s wrong.” The teasing lilt is gone now and there’s a strong sudden undercurrent of tension. “We’re in the middle of fucking nowhere.”

They certainly don’ttalklike government officials.

“Or maybe,” the third one says, his tone dry and velvety, “they’re hiding.”

Hiding. Fuck. I curse under my breath. Maybe theyarehere to find me after all.

I edge back further into the room, careful not to make a sound and not to disturb my freshly finished painting. If they cause me to mess up the piece I’ve spent weeks working on, I’ll be so mad. I can’t afford to lose or even delay this commission. I have a long waiting list, sure, but I still need the money. Desperately. And this is one of the few revenue streams I can follow without needing to leave the house or show my face to strangers.

My mind races. I could slip out the back door, but they’d probably hear me. I doubt I’d get far anyway because an alpha’s instinct when an omega runs is tochase…and besides, where would I go? The farmhouse is deliberately isolated for a reason and I’m no Olympic sprinter.

I could tell them to leave, but then I’d have to open the door, and there’s no way I’m doing that. I can’t. It’s not just about risking being discovered, it’s everything. They’re in my space. My citadel. Even if it’s ‘rough’, it’s mine. This is my safety from the world out there. If I open the door and let the world intrude, all sorts of terrible things will happen.

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