Page 51 of Bound By Song (Evie Quad Omegaverse #1)

DANE

I step back, wiping the sweat from my brow, as I take in the repaired section of the farmhouse railing that wraps around the porch.

It’s slow work, but there’s something satisfying about fixing up a place that means so much to Eviana.

My alpha nods in agreement with me, satisfied that we’re able to do something to provide for our omega.

The storm has finally settled, though there’s another front due to move in in a couple of days, so this seemed like the perfect opportunity to check the damage and make any reinforcements needed.

I cleaned out the chickens too. They’re quite cute little things, really. Bit damn protective of their eggs though. I chuckle to myself, glancing at the small cut on my finger where one particularly broody hen bit me.

“Need a hand?”

I turn to see her standing there, hair clipped back, sleeves of an old checked shirt rolled up, an uncertain expression on her face.

She’s been keeping her distance all day, but something’s shifting.

She’s choosing to be here with me now, and I’m more than happy to take whatever scraps of time and attention she wants to give me.

“Always,” I say, handing her a hammer and smirking at the sight of her in wellies and a long floral skirt. She’s so adorable and she doesn’t even realise it. “Think you can handle it?”

She scoffs. “I grew up on this land, Dane. I think I can handle a few nails. Who do you think kept the place standing until now?”

“Touché, little omega. You’re right. I defer to you in all things DIY, my queen.”

She giggles, a light, joyous sound that makes my alpha preen – we did that!

– and we get to work side by side, the rhythm of hammering filling the silence between us.

Slowly, as the minutes pass, she starts talking.

First, about little things – the weather, the state of the house – then, gradually, about her sisters.

“We weren’t meant to exist,” she says quietly, tightening a screw. “Gram kept us hidden. No school, no friends. Just us, locked away.”

I pause, watching her. Evie’s told us this before, so I get the feeling she’s trying to tell me something else.

Carefully, I nod. “She tried to stop you from being omegas.”

She nods, lips pressing together. “Suppressants. Drilled into us that being an omega was weak, dangerous. A liability, basically. We were never allowed to—” she hesitates, then shakes her head. “Never mind.”

I set my tools down, my voice steady but soft. “Eviana, you can talk to me.”

She sighs, rubbing her hands together like she’s trying to work something out of her skin. “We were never allowed to nest. Grams said it was foolish. Unnecessary. Only meant for birds.” Her lips twist. “So I just...never did. Didn’t see the point.”

I exhale sharply, the heaviness of it sinking into my chest. That’s...awful. Cruel. And it explains so much – why she’s always on edge, like she’s waiting for something to go wrong. Like comfort is a thing she’s not allowed to have.

Her voice softens, turns inward. “I remember one time, my sister Everly was getting particularly restless. She was always the most outspoken one of us – the one to butt heads with Grams. There was this night...she wanted to go for a walk on the beach. Just that. A walk. They got into this huge fight about it, shouting and screaming. Ev tried to leave. Grams locked her in her bedroom and disappeared. When she came back later that night…”

Eviana pauses, jaw clenched. Her voice drops to almost nothing.

“She had an alpha with her.”

My breath stills. Her eyes don’t meet mine.

“I remember hiding at the top of the stairs, peeking down. I was so confused. Grams had always said alphas were dangerous. Monsters. But she brought one into our home. Took him into her bedroom where Everly was locked in. They didn’t come out for hours.”

She swallows hard. “Everly wasn’t the same after that.

She was…quiet. Empty. We begged her to tell us what happened, but she wouldn’t.

Or maybe she couldn’t.” Her eyes glisten, but she doesn’t let the tears fall.

“That, more than anything Grams ever said, cemented my fear of alphas. Once and for all. Forever…or so I thought…”

My throat burns. My hands flex against my thighs, not out of frustration – out of the sheer pressure of holding back . The things I want to say. The things I want to undo for her. But I know better. This isn’t about fixing. This is about listening.

Before I can respond, she gasps suddenly, her hand flying to her stomach.

“Evie?”

She winces, fingers pressing just beneath her ribs as her other hand grabs the edge of the railing for support. “It’s nothing,” she mutters quickly, but her face is pale, her skin slick with sweat. Her breath comes too fast.

I kneel in front of her, watching her closely. “Is it cramping? Pressure?”

She nods reluctantly, like admitting it might make it worse. “It’s been coming and going. I thought it was just stress.”

“It’s not,” I say quietly. “Evie…I think your suppressants aren’t working so well anymore.”

She stares at me, frozen. “What?”

“You’re showing signs. Your heat – it’s close.”

Her face goes blank for half a second…then everything shatters.

“No,” she breathes, shaking her head. “No, that’s not— I’ve been taking them, I haven’t missed a dose. I can’t—” Her voice cracks and her hands shoot up to her head, fingers tangling in her hair like she’s trying to hold herself together. “I can’t go into heat. Not now. Not here. ”

“Evie,” I say softly, stepping forward, hands raised like I’m approaching a wounded animal. “You’re okay.”

“No, I’m not! ” she snaps, her breath catching, her whole body shaking now.

“You don’t get it, Dane. If this is really happening, then I’m not okay.

I’ve spent years – decades – shutting this part of me down.

Controlling it. Surviving it. I’ve never had one!

I-I c-can’t now. Not with alphas in the house! Oh god…”

Her eyes are wide and wild, chest heaving with shallow, panicked breaths. “I don’t know how to be an omega. I don’t know how to do this. What if I can’t control it? What if I—what if it makes me?—”

She doesn’t finish the thought. She can’t.

I move closer, carefully, until I’m right in front of her. “You’re not going to lose control,” I say gently. “You’re not alone in this. I’ll help you. We all will,” I promise. “We’ll start by making you a real nest.”

She huffs out a shaky, humorless laugh, eyes shining with unshed tears. “Isn’t that what we’ve already built in the living room? That ridiculous pile of blankets?”

I crouch down in front of her, meeting her eyes. “That’s not a nest, Evie. That’s a coping mechanism. A fortress. And you’ve needed it – I get that. But you’re going to need more when the time comes. A real space that’s safe and soft and yours. Somewhere you can fall apart without being afraid.”

She looks at me like she wants to believe me, but doesn’t know how. Her voice is paper-thin. “Where?”

“I’ll find somewhere,” I promise. “I’ll handle it. You don’t have to do anything except breathe right now.”

She draws in a shaky breath, then another, and I watch her hands slowly unclench from the fabric at her sides.

“Evie,” I say softly, “this isn’t weakness. This is your biology catching up to the truth – that you’re finally in a place where you might be safe enough to feel it.”

Her lip trembles. But this time, she doesn’t run. And that, to me, feels like a beginning.

By the time we step inside the house, Eviana’s trembling.

Her face is pale, her skin clammy, and she’s gripping my arm like it’s the only thing keeping her upright.

The scent of her – normally soft, rain-soaked apricot and honeysuckle – is shifting.

Warmer. Thicker. Coiling into something sharp and sweet, that punches directly into every alpha instinct I’ve got.

She’s trying to hide it, trying to act like she’s fine. But she’s not . I know it. She knows it.

“Come on,” I murmur, guiding her toward the lounge. “Let’s get you in your temporary nest.”

She doesn’t argue. Just lets me steer her gently toward the pile of blankets and pillows in the centre. She sinks into it without grace, folding in on herself like she’s trying to disappear.

Blaise and Xar both look up from the other side of the room, tension immediately crackling through the space.

“What’s wrong?” Blaise says, already halfway to his feet.

“She’s spiking,” I say quietly, kneeling beside her. “I think her heat’s coming on.”

Blaise’s eyes darken. He doesn’t hesitate. He rips his shirt over his head in one motion, tosses it to her, then climbs into the nest without asking, moving slowly but confidently.

“Come here, honeybee,” he murmurs, his voice low and coaxing. He eases her into his arms, pressing her face against his bare chest. His scent blooms instantly, thick with alpha comfort and warm reassurance.

He starts to purr.

The sound is deep, low, and utterly grounding. I feel it in my bones , and I’m not even the one wrapped in his arms.

Eviana lets out a soft, broken breath, her hands curling into Blaise’s side like she’s trying not to cling. But she’s already clinging. She needs this. And finally, finally, she’s letting one of us give it to her.

Xar watches for a moment, jaw tense. Then he nods to himself and rises.

“I’ll cook,” he says, already heading for the kitchen.

“Something proper. She’s going to need real meals if this is happening – high protein, easy to digest. I’ll start working out a plan.

Especially if another storm is going to hit, we’ll need to be smart about this. ”

“Thanks,” I murmur, my focus never leaving Evie. “I’ll handle the nest.”

Blaise glances at me over her head. “You mean a real one?”

I nod once. “The living room won’t cut it. I’ll find a space and get it set up. She’s not doing this in a pile of throw blankets. Especially not for her first ever heat.”