Page 37 of Bound By Song (Evie Quad Omegaverse #1)

That explanation hits me like a slap, and I feel my knees go weak, but I force myself to stay sitting, to hold myself steady.

“I don’t understand, I’m on suppressants.

They mute my sense of smell,” I mumble, shaking my head.

The scent of them, their power, it’s overwhelming, swirling through the air, wrapping around me like a storm.

I look from one of them to the next, my eyes wide, my chest tight. “Why now? Why didn’t I notice before?”

Xar leans in slightly, his voice calm and soothing, as though he’s walking me through the chaos in my head.

“You weren’t ready before. The neutraliser kept you from feeling us fully.

The suppressants would never stop you scenting your true mates once they got close enough, but I suspect your accident will have helped speed things up a bit.

It left you vulnerable, your defences were down.

But now, the scent’s here. And so is your omega.

She knows. It’s always been there, Eviana. We’ve always been here.”

I swallow hard, my breath coming faster as the reality of it all sinks in.

They’re my mates. My alphas. I have a pack.

Blaise crouches down in front of me, his gaze warm and steady, a flicker of concern in his eyes. “You’re not alone anymore, Eviana,” he says quietly. “None of us are. We’re here. We’re a pack, and it can be a wonderful thing. We’ll be here for you, no matter what.”

I want to say something, anything, but all I can do is stare at him, at them.

I can’t stop the flood of emotions that rush through me.

There’s so much to process, too much for my mind to hold on to at once.

But their scent is a tether now, a physical pull I can’t break, no matter how much I try to pull away.

Dane comes closer, like the last piece of a puzzle clicking into place. “We’ll give you the time you need to get comfortable with this, with us, Eviana,” he murmurs. “But don’t think this changes anything. You. Are. Ours. Now it’s undeniable.”

The words hit me like a wave crashing against rocks, and all I can do is close my eyes, trying to catch my breath through the chaos. Now I understand why they weren’t backing off. Why they wouldn’t leave me alone. Because I’m theirs. They were just waiting for me to realise it.

For the first time, I’m glad they didn’t give up on me.

I feel the ache in my chest again, this time softer, quieter, but still there. The connection to them is undeniable. My omega knows. It’s been screaming for them, for this, for us . And now, I can’t ignore it anymore. I can’t fight it.

I just need to find a way to embrace it.

“Breakfast?” Blaise suggests with a cheeky wink, and the tension snaps. Nodding, I let out a relieved sigh and open my eyes, looking at them – my mates.

Xar, Blaise, Dane.

They’re mine, and I’m theirs.

And even though everything inside me wants to run, wants to escape the crushing weight of the truth – that I don’t deserve them – I can’t. I can’t fight what’s pulling at me, what’s calling to me from deep inside.

I just don’t know what comes next.

I follow them into the kitchen, still reeling, still half convinced this is all a dream I’m going to wake from with a gasp.

The power is still out, but the soft glow of morning seeps through the windows, and Blaise is already rummaging through the cupboards like he owns the place – which, apparently, he kind of does now.

I should bristle at the invasion, but I don’t.

Not with the warmth of their scents clinging to the air like the promise of something safe.

Gas flames flicker to life with a soft whoosh as Dane lights the hob. “We found eggs and some bread,” he says, flashing me a small smile. “French toast sound good?”

My stomach growls in response, embarrassing and eager, and I nod.

I drift to the table, my eyes never quite leaving them.

I should be thinking about what this means, what I’m supposed to do now, but instead, I’m just watching.

The way Xar moves behind Blaise, effortlessly grabbing a pan.

The soft murmur of voices as they work together, like this isn’t the strangest morning of my life.

I keep scenting them – can’t stop. It’s like my body is pulling oxygen from their pheromones instead of the air.

Leather and apple from Blaise, wood and musk from Dane, and Xar – god, Xar smells like toasted tonka bean and comfort.

Together, they make something dark I don’t have a name for, something I could drown in.

Blaise passes me a glass of juice, fresh and cold, and his fingers brush mine. My breath catches. My skin burns where we touched.

I look down, overwhelmed again. “Why do I keep reacting like this?” I whisper, not even sure who I’m asking. “I can’t seem to stop.”

Xar is suddenly there, crouched beside me, his hand gentle on my thigh. “Because your omega’s been starved,” he says softly. “Not just for touch, but for safety. For us. You’ve been holding yourself together for so long, Evie. Let her feel now. Let her breathe.”

The lump in my throat swells. I want to argue, to tell him I’m fine, I’ve always been fine – but then he reaches up, thumb brushing a smudge from the corner of my mouth, and I melt.

His hand lingers.

Our faces are close – too close – and everything inside me goes hot and tight and needful. My fingers curl into my palms to stop myself from reaching for him. His eyes flick to my lips, and my omega rises up with a keening ache.

He leans in just a little more, not quite touching. Waiting.

I blink, torn open by the weight of the moment, of how easy it would be to close the distance.

His hand lingers.

He leans in just a little more, not quite touching. Waiting.

But Blaise clatters a pan onto the hob, and I jump like I’ve been shocked, the moment breaking as heat rushes to my face.

“I’ve got this round,” Blaise says, turning with an exaggerated flourish. “Chef Blaise at your service. Dane’s banned from French toast after the incident.”

Dane snorts from the sink. “One time. One time the egg mixture got weird and suddenly I’m blacklisted for life.”

Xar stands and presses a hand briefly to my shoulder – steadying, warm – before moving to grab plates. I stay seated, trying to pretend I’m not still vibrating with want. With need.

“Do I even want to know what the incident was?” I ask, hoping my voice sounds more stable than I feel.

“Oh, you do,” Blaise says with a grin. “Let’s just say it involved cinnamon, an open window, and a very angry squirrel.”

Dane groans, tossing him a dishtowel. “You swore you’d never bring that up again.”

“Blaise lies,” Xar says flatly, but there’s amusement in his tone. “Frequently. And with flair. He’s also pretty much banned from doing anything in the kitchen too.” He takes over the cooking.

I laugh – actually laugh – and the sound startles me. It feels good, though. Like maybe the world isn’t completely upside down if I can still find room for this. For them. For this strange, domestic kind of peace.

They set down plates piled with food, and I don’t even realise how hungry I am until I’m halfway through a bite, only to pause as another wave of scent hits me. Toast and syrup and them. I close my eyes for a second too long, inhaling deeply.

“You okay?” Dane asks gently.

I nod, swallowing thickly. “Yeah. Just...you all smell so good. Too good. It’s distracting.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Blaise grins like it’s Christmas morning. “You hear that, lads? We’re distracting.”

“Please don’t let him run with that,” Xar mutters.

But there’s no teasing in his eyes when he looks at me again – just something steady. Anchoring.

“We’ve got time,” he says quietly, almost to himself.

And maybe…maybe we do.

I take another bite, slower this time, letting the flavors roll over my tongue – golden edges, soft middle, a hint of cinnamon and something citrusy Blaise must’ve added just to show off before Xar took over. It’s good. Too good.

A girl could get used to eating like this. Sure as hell beats my usual breakfast choices.

“So,” Blaise says, leaning his elbows on the table with a grin, “what’s your favourite breakfast food, omega?”

I grin at the teasing lilt in his voice, but answer anyway. “Honestly? I’ve got a sweet tooth. Always have. But I try to ignore it most of the time.”

“You try to ignore it?” Dane echoes, like I’ve just admitted to kicking puppies.

“I usually just have toast,” I say with a shrug. “Plain. Butter, if I’m feeling fancy.”

There’s a collective beat of stunned silence.

Blaise drops his fork with a dramatic gasp. “Toast? Plain toast? DRY toast?! Butter is fancy ?!”

“You make it sound like a war crime,” I mutter, cheeks heating.

Xar frowns like he’s just discovered a crime scene. “Wait— So...you’ve never had French toast before?”

I shake my head, sheepish. “Nope. First time. I was raised on granola and almond milk. Homemade. Unsweetened.” I shudder. “It was like eating gravel soaked in regret.”

That gets a low laugh from Dane, the sound vibrating down my spine. “So, toast felt indulgent.”

“Exactly,” I say, grateful they’re not pitying me – just quietly horrified. “Just plain, sometimes buttered toast. Still does. I guess…I never let myself want much more than that.”

The table goes quiet for a moment, not heavy or awkward – just full of something unspoken. Understanding, maybe.

Blaise breaks it, his voice softer now. “Well, buckle up, sugarplum. You’ve got a lot of breakfasts to catch up on.”

“Tomorrow?” Dane adds, nudging a strawberry toward my plate. “Pancakes.”

“And you’re never eating granola again,” Xar says, firm and final.

I grin down at my plate, letting their warmth wrap around me like sunlight. The storm outside may still be raging, but in here, over French toast and banter and scent-heavy air, something is finally settling inside me.

A new beginning.