Page 30 of Bound By Song (Evie Quad Omegaverse #1)

I’m just about to stand up when I hear it.

The door creaks.

My stomach drops, and I tense, dropping the clothes in the process. I know what’s coming. I know he’s there.

“Eviana?”

I don’t have to look to know who it is. The voice is deep, calm, and reassuring, but it makes everything inside me snap.

No, no, no! He can’t be in here. Not in this room. Not one of the few places in the house where there’s no scent neutraliser pumped.

I jump up, the clothes falling from my hands as I scramble to the door, my heart racing. “Xar!” I snap, trying to hold myself together, but my voice is shaking. “You can’t be in here. You can’t?—”

But before I can take another step, he’s already there, his presence filling the room. And the moment he closes the door behind him, everything shifts.

I freeze, the air around me suddenly thick with something I can’t quite place. Something familiar, something I’ve tried so hard to push down – repressed. His scent hits me like a flood, a wave of warmth and power that invades every inch of me.

It’s rich. Smooth. Slightly spicy. The faintest trace of bitter cardamom blends beautifully with soft, sweet, toasted tonka bean and silky cashmeran, curling around me like a blanket, pulling at something deep inside of me.

I can almost feel it pulling me in. His scent wraps around me, an invisible thread, thickening the air between us, making everything feel too close, too real.

My heart stutters.

No. I shouldn’t be able to scent him. The suppressants I’m on dull my sense of smell. This can’t be happening. It isn’t happening. It’s not. It can’t be.

But it doesn’t matter. My omega doesn’t care.

I can feel her now stirring, fully awakening from a long, suffocating sleep, shifting from deep inside of me.

She’s been buried for so long – shackled beneath years of fear and control – but now she’s clawing her way to the surface, eager to respond to the alpha scent invading our senses.

Xar steps closer, his presence magnetic, a force I can’t resist, even as every fibre of my being tells me to pull away, to run. But the omega – my omega – is awake now.

And she reacts .

The first sign of it is a soft, involuntary whine, a sound that slips from me before I can hold it back.

It’s tiny, almost a breath of air, but it’s there.

It makes me want to curl in on myself, to hide.

I burn, feeling the heat in my cheeks as the shame floods me, my body betraying me with the most primitive, helpless of responses.

I can’t even control it. Not when he’s this close.

I turn away, my hands trembling at my sides, but I can feel him – feel his presence – like an electrical pulse in the room. And then there’s that humming sound, low and rumbling, coming from Xar’s chest once more.

It’s not even a growl. It’s a purr. Soothing. But it’s also commanding, like he’s marking the air with his dominance, and I feel my breath catch in my throat as my body reacts.

I know what it is, I know it instinctively – this is his alpha energy, pressing against me, gently asserting itself. Even his scent is like a command, a pull, and my omega…my omega wants .

She wants him.

Needs him, in fact.

The scent reminds me of something comforting, but I can’t place it.

There’s something mouthwatering about it and it makes my pulse race, my body coming alive with a need I don’t know how to control.

His scent is raw in a way I haven’t felt before.

It’s masculine and primal, but there’s a soft sweetness to it too, and it calls to the deepest parts of me that have been locked away for so long.

I feel it – my omega stretching and waking inside me.

It’s not just a phantom sensation like before.

It’s like a real, living thing – an entity inside me that’s been dormant, chained for years, finally stretching out with a quiet need.

She’s been suffocating, and now, she’s fully awake and she wants him .

She wants his scent, his presence, his power.

God, no.

I can’t breathe. I try to focus, try to think about anything other than him, but it’s impossible.

The room is full of him, of that scent, of the overwhelming pull of it.

My body betrays me again, a soft whimper leaving my throat, and I want to crawl into myself, bury it all away.

But it’s too late. My omega is alive now, and she’s demanding.

I try to fight it, to ignore it, but it’s impossible.

My skin flushes, my body heating with the rush of his scent, and my omega is pressing, pushing, aching to respond to his presence. I can’t keep still. My body wants to lean into him, to give in to it, but I can’t.

I try to step away, to distance myself from him, but my feet are glued to the floor. There’s a pull deep in my chest – a strange ache, a hunger – that makes me want to step into his arms, to let him take control, to let him claim me.

“Evie, baby…” Xar says again, his voice low, rumbling with that unspoken command. His eyes are steady on me, but there’s something in them – something predatory. He’s sensing it, too.

Shit.

I close my eyes, squeezing them shut, but it doesn’t help.

The weight of his scent wrapping around me, his alpha nature pushing against mine.

The pull is too strong. I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up, how much longer I can keep fighting it.

Internally, my omega whines, desperate to submit to him, but I can’t.

I won’t.

I want to scream, to run, but instead, my body gives in. My chest tightens, my pulse races, and I feel myself leaning toward him – almost uncontrollably. The moment his scent fills my lungs again, my omega whines, and this time, we both hear it.

Again. Louder this time, and the ache in my chest intensifies. It’s like I’ve lost all control over my body. I feel my pulse in my throat, my body trembling with need. I want him. I want to be near him, to breathe him in, to be close to him in a way that feels right, even if it terrifies me.

I can’t stop this.

Xar’s eyes narrow, his gaze flicking to my neck, to the way my body is reacting. “Omega…” His voice drops even lower, his hand reaching out toward me, a quiet command in his voice that sends a jolt through me.

I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to stop this, how to stop myself from giving in. I’ve not been raised to understand. I have no idea what I’m meant to do, but inside my omega is chanting submit, submit, submit .

I should be angry, I should be pushing him away, but instead, I’m leaning into him, instinctively, my head tilting slightly as if I’m offering myself to him without even thinking.

He steps even closer, his heat wrapping around me like a velvet chain, pulling me into a cocoon of safety and desire I don’t know how to resist. His palm rises to my face, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear, and I freeze.

My lips part to speak, but the words dissolve before they form.

Because the only thing I can think is yes .

His hand slides into my hair, fingers threading through the silken strands as his thumb brushes over my cheekbone, the touch reverent but possessive. My omega thrums in my chest, smile curling, spine arching, desperate for more.

“Mine,” he growls, voice low and rough enough to scrape down my spine like a match.

The sound cracks something open inside me, ripping the breath from my lungs. My knees threaten to give out as my omega roars to life, flooding me with instinct, hunger, need .

Yes! Yours! my omega purrs even as I scream at her that she’s mistaken. She has to be.

Then every thought is replaced by sensation.

The scent of him – dark spice and something sharper beneath – coats the air and clings to my skin, flooding me with pure, instinctive need.

Every nerve lights up as his lips crash into mine – hot, demanding, claiming.

I moan, the sound caught somewhere between shock and relief .

Because yes. Yes, I’ve been waiting for this.

My omega purrs loud and deep, a tide that pulls the rest of me under.

The kiss isn’t sweet. It’s starving .

More, more, more! my omega screams.

It’s not soft. It’s not tentative. It’s everything I’ve never let myself want.

Hot, fierce, consuming. Our lips crash together like we’re made to collide, like his mouth was crafted just to fit against mine.

My fingers fist the front of his shirt, needing something to anchor myself to as my body ignites.

I gasp into the kiss, and his arm locks around my waist, hauling me into his chest like I belong there. My hands grip his shoulders, helpless against the wave of sensation crashing through me. He kisses like he knows I’m already his – like he’s just waiting for me to realise it too.

My first kiss. Wow.

It’s nothing like I expected – it’s a storm, wild and consuming, like lightning striking the same place over and over again, relentless and explosive. I feel it all the way down to my toes.

His thumb strokes the edge of my jaw, possessive but tender. “Mine,” he says again, a murmur this time, voice husky and rich.

Then his mouth is on mine again. The kiss is slower now.

Exploring. Tempting. Reverent. But when I lean into him, responding with a soft whimper, something shifts.

He growls low in his throat and deepens the kiss again, tongue sweeping into my mouth with a hunger that undoes me.

It makes me throb. Ache. My thighs clench tight, instinctive and helpless.

His hand doesn’t stay chaste in my hair – it slides lower, skimming down the side of my neck, tracing the curve of my shoulder until it brushes the side of my breast. My breath catches, but I don’t stop him.

I should .

But all I can do is arch into the touch.