Page 89 of Bound By Song

I spin so fast I nearly knock the guitar off its stand. She’s there – Eviana – standing at the foot of the stairs like she’s caught me mid-sin. Arms crossed tight. Jaw locked. Her expression is pure fire, but beneath it, I see the cracks. She’s panicking.

And suddenly, Ifeelher.

Her scent floods the room without warning – sweet apricot turned syrupy and sharp, honeysuckle blooming wide and wild beneath it, like heat caught on rain-slick skin. It’s different now.Richer.Heady. Overripe with something deeper.

Somethingundeniably omega.

My own body responds before my brain catches up – heart pounding, breath shallowing, heat sliding down my spine. The space between us feels electric, like we’ve stepped onto the edge of something neither of us is ready to name.

“Evie,” I say, my voice rougher than I mean it to be. “You’re her. You’reHoney.”

“Don’t.” Her voice is sharp. A warning.

I should step back. Give her space. But I don’t. I step closer, pulled like gravity.

“Don’t what?” I ask, still stunned. “Be impressed?” I sweep an arm toward the room, the softly glowing monitors, theacoustic panels, the lyrics on the walls. “This is incredible, Eviana. You?—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she cuts in. But this time, the edge is thinner. Cracking.

Her cheeks are flushed now, her breathing uneven. I wonder if she feels it too – that undercurrent. That pull. I lower my voice without meaning to, trying to cut through her walls without shattering her.

“Why not?”

She looks away, arms drawing tighter around herself like she’s holding something in. Like she’s afraid of what might spill out if she doesn’t.

“Because it’s not who I am. It’s just something I do. I did. Something I kept to myself.”

“But it’s not just something.” I gesture around us. “Evie, this whole space? This music? It’s you. It’s honest. It’s raw. It’s?—”

I stop. Because her scent shifts again – sharper now, dizzying – and my thoughts scatter.

“You don’t get it.” Her voice is low now. Shaky. “Honey was safe because no one knew it was me. The moment people know, they judge. They pick you apart. They decide if you’re worthy. And they never let you forget it.”

I blink. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”

She lifts her chin, defiant even in her fear. “Aren’t you?”

“No,” I say, gentler now. “Evie, I’m standing here in awe of you. I’m not judging you. I’m trying to understand why you’re acting like being talented – brilliant, even – is something to be ashamed of.”

Her laugh is soft. Bitter. “You’ve spent your whole life in the spotlight, Blaise. You chose that. I didn’t.”

That hits something deep. I nod slowly. “Okay. Fair. But hiding doesn’t make you safer – it just makes you smaller. And that’s not you.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I’m trying to,” I say quietly. “If you’d let me.”

Her breath hitches. And that’s when she looks at me.

Reallylooksat me.

And we’re too close. Close enough to feel the heat rolling off her skin. Close enough that if I reached out, just a little?—

Her lips part like she might speak, or maybe like she’s trying to breathe through the tension coiling between us. My gaze drops – just for a second – to her mouth.

Fuck.

“I can’t,” she whispers. “Not yet.”

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