Page 69 of Bound By Song (Evie Quad Omegaverse #1)

DANE

I can sense it – her fear – even though she’s trying so hard to hide it.

I know her better than she thinks. That wall she’s putting up is hard to ignore.

I can practically feel the distance she’s trying to create between us.

Every time her eyes flicker to me, every time her hands fidget with something, I know she’s battling something inside her.

And the worst part is – she doesn’t even know why she’s doing it.

But I do.

Her heat’s finally here. Or at least, it will be in a couple of hours. By morning at the latest.

I wanted to tell her. Hell, I tried. But how do you explain to someone who’s been so sheltered, so untouched by the world we live in, that her body is about to betray her?

That everything she thought she knew about herself is about to shift?

That instincts she’s never had to navigate before are going to slam into her like a freight train?

And fuck, I knew she was a virgin until the other day. Completely untouched in every way, and I’d bet my last breath she’s never taken a knot before. Which is why we should have taken more time to get her ready. To truly explain what she was facing.

I wanted to stay with her tonight. I wanted to curl up beside her in the nest, keep her grounded when the confusion started to creep in.

But she asked for space, and I didn’t want to frighten her more than she already is.

She’s fragile in a way I can’t explain, and every instinct in me is screaming to be near her, to protect her. To guide her through what’s coming.

But how do I protect her from her own instincts?

I try to distract myself, to think of anything else.

But my mind keeps circling back to her – her scent changing in subtle waves, particularly the way the honeysuckle is increasing, almost eclipsing the floral and fresh scents that normally balance it so well.

And the way her body is reacting without her even realising it.

The way she trembled when I kissed her forehead.

The flicker of panic in her eyes when our fingers brushed.

She doesn’t understand what her body is telling her and she’s fighting it with everything she’s got.

It makes my chest ache. I want to fix it. I want to help her.

I remember another omega. Years ago. One I didn’t get to in time. Someone I failed. I couldn’t protect my brother the way he needed when his designation revealed. I saw the signs too late and so he slipped through my fingers, and it still haunts me. That helplessness. That guilt.

I won’t let it happen again.

I can’t .

So I pace.

The house is too quiet, too tense. It feels like the air itself is holding its breath. I can hear soft movements from her room, little whimpers, the shuffle of blankets. It makes my skin prickle. Makes me want to kick in the door and wrap her up in my arms, even though I know she’d bolt if I tried.

She needs to come to us willingly. She needs to choose.

But god, it’s killing me.

Especially with her declaration yesterday that she wants us to bond with her during her heat. Does she still mean it? It’s hard to know with the way she’s pushing us away now. Sure, in the height of her heat she’ll beg for our bites, but does she truly want them?

Yesterday I would have said yes. Now I’m not so sure.

I clench my fists, try to ride the edge of my instinct. I can feel the others too – just barely keeping it together. All of us feel it. The pull. The shift. The inevitability of what’s coming. We’re just waiting for her to catch up.

I lean against the wall outside her nest, every muscle in my body coiled tight. My pulse is thunder in my ears. I hear her again – this time it’s a soft, broken sound, like she’s lost in some kind of dream or memory or confusion she can’t name.

I squeeze my eyes shut.

We need to talk to her. Tomorrow. No more circling it. No more hoping she figures it out on her own. We owe her the truth.

Even if she’s not ready.

Even if it terrifies her.

I won’t let her go through it blind. Not like before. Not like my brother did, coming into his designation while I was away on tour, leaving him scared and completely alone, at the mercy of our image-obsessed, alpha parents.

I don’t sleep. I can’t.

I just keep pacing. Listening. Waiting.