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How can he, when I don’t even understand it myself?

I’m terrified of losing her.

Evie is only the second omega I’ve ever let close. The only one I’ve let touch the parts of me I’ve locked down for years. And every instinct I have screams at me to protect her – even from myself.

Especially from myself.

When my little brother presented, he was terrified. Not of being an omega – he’d known that was coming. He was scared of what it wouldmean. How the world would treat him. How even the people meant to love him would see him as weaker. A thing to use. To mark. To claim.

And I promised I’d keep him safe.

Ipromised.

But it wasn’t enough.

Iwasn’t enough.

By the time I found out what had happened to him – what they’ddone– it was too late. His scent was wrong. His spark was gone. I held his broken body in my arms, and something in me broke with it.

I never forgave myself.

And I never let anyone in after that.

Until Evie.

She slipped past every wall before I even realised I’d built them. One smile, one soft word, and I was already folding. She’s fierce and brave and brilliant, but underneath, she’s fragile too. Hurting. Healing. And I see her. Iseeher in a way that guts me.

And I’m scared.

Not of her – but of me.

Of what I want when I’m near her. Of how strong I am. How big. How rough I could be if I ever let go. How rough Iwantto be.

I’ve spent more than a decade keeping my instincts buried. I’ve never trusted myself with someone who mattered – whofeltthis much. My size, my strength, the darkness inside me...what if it’s too much? What ifI’mtoo much?

She’s soft and sweet and already wrecked from three days of heat.

What if I break her?

And what if Idon’t?

What if I give in and she becomes everything – more than she already is – and then one day, I lose her, too?

I’d never recover.

So I hold back.

I sit in the nest and soothe her with steady hands, with care and tea and braided hair and cooling cloths on her brow. I kiss her forehead instead of her mouth. I bathe her, feed her, wrap her up in blankets and call her brave…but I don’t take what I want. Because if I do…If I let go…

There’ll be no taking it back.

By the time I’ve got the tray balanced with soup, bread, water, and electrolyte tabs, I’ve convinced myself I’m not going in there to give in. I’m just doing what I’ve done the last three days – taking care of her. Holding the line. Being safe.

But when I reach the doorway to the nest, I pull up short.

Xar’s just tucking a blanket around Blaise, who looks completely done in – flushed, shirtless, half-asleep with damp hair and the laziest smirk I’ve ever seen on his face.

“What the?—”