Page 52 of Bound By Song (Evie Quad Omegaverse #1)

Eviana doesn’t speak, but her breathing is steadier now. Her fingers still clutch Blaise’s side, her face still pressed to his chest, but some of the rigidity has melted from her frame.

We’re doing it – step by step. Rebuilding what was stolen from her.

And we’re not going to let her go through any of this alone. We’ll never let her be alone again.

I leave the others behind – Eviana tucked safely in Blaise’s arms, Xar already clattering in the kitchen – and head upstairs.

Aside from using the bathroom, I’ve not explored the inside of the farmhouse at all. I know Xar said there was an attic, and Blaise found a recording studio in the basement, but neither of those spaces will work for Eviana’s heat.

The house could be so lovely. Sure, it needs work, but it’s exactly the sort of place I saw myself settling down and filling with kids. It could be a perfect family home. But right now it’s tainted by bad memories and stuck in the past.

Upstairs there’s a large bedroom, that appears to have once been maybe two rooms knocked into one, with four single beds inside – the room Evie shared with her sisters I’m guessing – and a smaller room which appears to be the one Evie uses now.

Her scent is stronger in there and there’s no air of neglect like the first room.

Neither will work. The large bedroom is big enough but that’s a lot of furniture to have to move and rearrange.

Frustrated, I’m thinking about where we can move the sofa and bits out of the lounge to, if we’re going to have to use that space, when I remember the story Evie told me earlier.

Her grandmother’s bedroom is downstairs. I need to check it out.

I head downstairs and pause outside the door, hand on the knob. It takes a second longer than it should to turn it. As if opening it might drag something dark out with it.

The room smells faintly of dust and something floral that doesn’t suit Eviana at all. The wallpaper is yellowed, the bedding still tucked perfectly in place. Everything is neat. Preserved. Like a shrine to control.

I step inside.

It’s freezing. Unlived in. Cold in a way that has nothing to do with the storm that’s been clawing at the windows. There’s no softness here. No comfort. Just antique furniture and tight corners, the kind of space designed to contain rather than protect.

This room was never safe. I can feel it.

My stomach turns as I look around – the place where her grandmother probably lectured her, shamed her, broke her down piece by piece. Where her sister came back from whatever happened behind this door and never spoke of again.

This is the only room in this house big enough. It has an en suite attached too which will be useful, but really, it’s the only one with enough space to build something real. To build something worthy of her.

And this is where Eviana’s going to have her first real heat?

Not like this.

I need to check with Evie first, make sure she’s okay with it, but if she is, I’ll start stripping it down immediately.

The wardrobe – too stiff, too formal – needs to go first. Then the heavy curtains, the dated side tables, the bedspread that probably still smells like judgment. I’ll drag everything out, tossing the furniture aside like it personally offended me. Because honestly? It has .

With every piece I’m mentally removing, I’m imagining what it could become instead.

Warm. Soft. Safe. Hers.

I’ll bring in new curtains. Paint. A mattress so good she sinks into it and never wants to leave. I’ll make sure the light is gentle, the air clean, the textures soothing. I’ll layer the floor with rugs and scent blankets and every soft thing we can get our hands on.

This space has held enough fear. Enough silence.

Now it’s going to hold her .

The crushed omega who survived without a nest.

And I’m going to give her one that says, You’ll never go without again.

I return to the lounge and find Evie still in her nest, only now she’s curled up between Xar and Blaise, watching as Blaise tunes his guitar. She’s close, closer than usual, her trust growing. Blaise nudges her gently. “Sing with us?”

She hesitates, but then nods. When she sings, it’s raw, pure, something unguarded breaking free in her voice. The rest of us just listen, letting her set the pace.

Xar catches my eye, his gaze knowing. He shifts slightly, leaning closer to me as he speaks. “We need to be ready. But we wait for her to make the first move.”

I nod, then turn to Eviana. “Evie? I need to ask you something.”

She looks at me, wary. “What is it?”

“The only room that’s suitable for your nest is…your Grandmother’s old room.”

She goes still. “You want to strip it?”

“Yes,” I say softly. “Completely. Turn it into something new. Something safe. But it’s your choice.”

She swallows hard, looking away. The silence stretches between us, but finally, she nods. “Okay.”

Relief washes through me, and I squeeze her hand gently. “I’ll make it right for you, Evie. I promise. I’ll start first thing tomorrow.”

She gives me a tentative smile, squeezing my hand in return. “Thank you, Dane.”

“Anytime, Evie. You don’t have to thank me for anything. Ever. I want to do this for you. Now…is there room in this snuggle pile for me? I want to join in the sing-song.”