Page 27 of Bound By Song (Evie Quad Omegaverse #1)

XAR

W e knew something was off.

Blaise had been on edge all afternoon – more so than usual.

There was a restlessness in him, something he couldn’t hide.

It was in the way he kept glancing out the window, like he was expecting something, or someone, to appear.

I could feel the tension in the air; it was as if the calm before a storm was settling on him.

I knew he was about to do something reckless.

Ever since we got here, we’d all felt drawn to that farmhouse, like it had a magnetic pull, but Blaise.

..he was different. He didn’t handle frustration well.

It built up inside him, and when it reached its peak, there was no stopping it.

When he slipped out of the cottage without saying much, I didn’t need to ask where he was headed. I knew. And as much as I hated it, I wasn’t about to let him go alone.

So, Dane and I jumped in the car and headed the same way ourselves.

He didn’t know we were following him, of course, and we couldn’t get all the way through because another tree was down across the drive, blocking the way. We had to jump out of the car and come the rest of the way on foot, just in time to see Blaise disappear inside, carrying Eviana in his arms.

“Don’t think, Blaise. Just move,” I snap, jerking myself back to the present and pushing him aside as I crouch down next to Eviana. “Dane, help me here.”

She’s cold to the touch, too cold. My heart pounds in my chest as Dane lifts her into his arms, every second feeling like a lifetime.

“She’s not waking up,” Blaise says, his voice tight, and I can hear the uncertainty in it.

This is Blaise, usually the first to throw a quip or smile at any problem, but now…

now, he’s as rattled as I’ve ever seen him.

I can’t stand the helplessness in his voice, the way he can’t keep it together. It’s killing him. And it’s killing me, too, watching him fall apart like this.

“Stop talking. Let’s get her to the bathroom. She needs to warm up, and fast.”

I can’t think of anything but her now. We’re moving fast – too fast – but it feels like every second matters.

We need to warm her up, get her dry, get her to safety.

Her head’s bleeding, the wound small but deep, and I can feel her pulse faintly flickering beneath my fingers, but she’s not responding.

Dane follows without question, carrying Eviana in his arms as I race ahead, throwing open doors in search of the bathroom.

He’s seen this before, knows I’m not one to wait around.

I won’t lose another person from my life that I care about, even if this time it’s due to an accident.

I don’t give either of them a chance to speak.

I’m moving too quickly, my mind focused solely on one thing: keeping her safe.

I flick on the light and twist the taps, filling the bath with hot water as fast as it will go.

Steam starts to rise, the air quickly misting as I tear off my soaked clothes, peeling the clinging fabric from my skin.

My shirt hits the floor with a wet slap, followed by my jeans.

I leave my boxer briefs on – I’m not here for comfort. Just speed.

“Give her to me,” I bark, locking eyes with Dane.

He hesitates for just a second, his grip on her tightening. His hands are trembling. Dane never trembles. Right now, I don’t have time to think about why. I just need him to do it.

But then he steps closer, and I can see it – his jaw clenched, eyes burning, his control barely holding. Slowly, reverently, he begins to peel her out of her clothes.

Her shirt is plastered to her skin, heavy and sodden. Dane moves carefully, his fingers gentle as he tugs it over her head, revealing the pale skin beneath, already chilled and starting to take on a bluish tint.

I move in to help with the rest, our hands brushing as we work together in silent understanding.

The zipper of her skirt sticks from the damp, and for a breathless moment, I have to force myself to stay focused – this isn’t about want.

It’s about need . I need to get her warm. I need to get her safe.

We strip her down to nothing, every inch of soaked fabric discarded in a heap. My chest aches at how cold she is, how still. I want to shake her, to make her come back to us.

“Now,” I say, voice rough, and Dane passes her to me.

I take her into the bath, guiding her limp body into the water with both hands. She’s so cold it makes me flinch, her skin like ice against my own, but I don’t let go. I pull her in close, wrapping her against my chest, letting the heat of the water and my body work together to thaw her out.

Blaise hovers beside us, jaw tight, hands flexing at his sides like he wants to do something, but when I glance up, he gets the message.

“It’s okay,” I murmur. “I’ve got her.”

He backs off, just a step, his eyes never leaving her.

As the heat begins to seep into her skin, I feel a flicker of hope. Just a flicker.

But it’s enough.

I can’t help but let out a soft purr, a low, comforting sound that rumbles in my chest before I even realise it. It’s instinctive, a way to soothe her as she rests in the warmth.

It feels like an age before she stirs, but it’s probably only a couple of minutes at most.

Her eyes flicker open, hazy at first, and she looks straight at me.

“Eviana,” I murmur, keeping my voice calm, even though inside, I’m a mess. “You’re okay. Just relax, Evie. You’re safe, little one.”

She doesn’t move for a moment, her breathing shallow. Then, suddenly, her eyes widen, and she tries to pull away, panic rising in her chest.

“What happened?!” she gasps, her voice frantic as she tries to sit up.

I lean in closer, my alpha instincts roaring to the surface as I sense the rising panic in her. “It’s okay,” I say softly, the deep rumble of my voice low and soothing. “You fell off the roof. You hit your head. But you’re alright now. We’ve got you. Please, just relax for a moment.”

Her body trembles, her hands clinging to the sides of the bath, her eyes darting around.

I can feel her fight against it, but I’m not letting her pull away.

My hand gently cups the back of her head, holding her steady in the water.

“It’s alright,” I murmur, my voice dropping lower, soothing, like I’m talking to a scared animal.

She hesitates, her body stiff at first, but my presence seems to ground her. Slowly, she relaxes into the warmth of the water, and the tension in her shoulders eases.

I feel her body soften against mine, her breath steadying. She’s still afraid, but the panic’s faded, and relief floods through me, easing the tightness in my chest.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her voice small, barely audible. “I…I didn’t want…I should have called...”

I shake my head, brushing her wet hair back from her face with care. She’s still bleeding, the steam of the hot bath not helping matters, but it’s hardly a priority right now. No. Comforting my omega is. “You’re not a burden, Eviana. We’re here for you.”

She nods, but I can see it in her eyes. She’s still fighting something, still unsure. “You should go. You should just…leave. You don’t need to be here. I’m fine.”

I don’t flinch at her words, don’t let them push me away. “We’re not leaving until we know you’re okay,” I say firmly. “You might have a concussion. We need to make sure.”

Her eyes flicker with something else – embarrassment or maybe frustration. But then Blaise’s voice cuts through the tension. He’s standing at the bathroom door now, his expression dark.

“What the hell were you doing on the roof?” he demands, his voice low but angry. I know it’s his fear talking, but I still wince. He shouldn’t be taking it out on her. No omega deserves to be spoken to like that, but especially not our omega.

Eviana flinches, like she expected this, but she doesn’t answer immediately. She sighs, her shoulders slumping. “I was trying to fix the porch. It’s been leaking, and I thought I could handle it.”

Blaise curses under his breath, pacing in place. “You’re insane, you know that? You could’ve died. We told you to message us.”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion,” she snaps back, a flash of defiance in her voice, but there’s an exhaustion there now, something worn out. “I didn’t message because I didn’t need help!”

“I’m fixing it.” Blaise turns to walk out, a fire in his eyes. “Don’t move. I’m going to take care of it.”

“Dane? Find us some towels please. And blankets. Light the fire and get some hot drinks on. Look for a first aid kit too for this cut. She might need stitches.”

Dane nods and slips away to do what I’ve asked, leaving me alone with Eviana in the steam. The tension is palpable, but I remain focused on her.

“You’re safe now,” I repeat, my voice calm. “And we’re not leaving you alone.”

Her eyes soften, just for a second, and I see her fighting it – fighting the urge to shut us out. She’s trying to hold on to her independence, but it’s slipping. And I can see that, despite everything, she’s starting to trust us a little bit.

I pet her hair gently, a soft, reassuring motion, and she melts into me, the resistance fading as she sighs deeply and rubs herself against my chest. She’s not fighting anymore.

And that’s when she freezes, her body going rigid in the water, her eyes wide as she realises what she’s doing.

But before she can pull away, I keep my hand at the back of her head, gently holding her in place. I don’t force her, but I won’t let her run.

“Shh, it’s okay,” I murmur. “Relax.”

She stays there, her body slowly relaxing again, sinking into the comfort of my touch. And I don’t say anything more. I just let her stay there, letting her trust me – letting her trust us – until she’s ready to move.

“Xar,” she says after a moment, her voice soft.

“Yeah?”

Her eyes meet mine, and there’s something fragile in her gaze, something she’s trying to hide. “Why are you all really here? Why won’t you leave me alone?”

I hesitate, the question catching me off guard. I don’t have an easy answer for her – not one she’s ready to hear.

“Because we care,” I say finally, keeping my voice steady.

“And because you matter to us. I don’t know if you need help, but something about you is calling to our instincts to protect and support you.

And if you don’t want that, well, at the very least we’d like to be your friend.

Seems like you might need a couple of those. ”

She looks away, her jaw tightening like she doesn’t believe me, but she doesn’t argue. Instead, she leans back against my chest, her eyes slipping closed.

I watch her for a moment longer, my chest heavy with a mix of relief and something I can’t quite name. She’s safe, for now. But this is far from over.

Whatever’s between us – between her and all of us – it’s only just beginning.