Page 73 of Bound By Song (Evie Quad Omegaverse #1)

BLAISE

T he moment I step back into the nest, her scent slams into me. Sweet apricot osmanthus and fresh rain, warm honeysuckle curling at the edges and a soft touch of nectarine blossom, thickened by the unmistakable heat rolling off her skin.

Fuck.

As soon as we’d had breakfast, Evie came back to her nest, needing to lie down. I left her alone as long as I possibly could, but I’m dying to be by her side.

I school my expression, locking down the instincts clawing at me to get closer. To touch. To soothe. She’s curled tight in the blankets, her hair a golden spill against the pillows, her fingers clenched like she’s fighting against herself.

“Alright, princess, let’s get you sorted.” My voice is light, teasing. A counterbalance to the weight pressing down on the room.

Her eyes flick up to me, hazy but sharp at the edges. She doesn’t fully trust me yet. Not with this. But that’s fine. Trust is earned, not given.

I set the tray down beside the nest, making a show of arranging things just right. “I’ve got water, some fruit, crisps, even a little chocolate – because let’s be real, no one should suffer without chocolate.”

She huffs, barely a sound, but I catch the corner of her mouth twitching.

Victory.

“Come on,” I coax, kneeling beside her. “One sip, just to start.”

She hesitates, her fingers tightening in the blankets. Then, slowly, she uncurls enough to take the bottle from me. Her hands tremble slightly, and I fight the urge to steady her. Instead, I keep my gaze locked on hers, steady, unbothered.

She takes a sip from the in-built straw. Then another.

“Good girl,” I murmur before I can stop myself.

A shudder rolls through her, sharp and involuntary. Her eyes snap to mine, wide and dark, pupils swallowing the blue.

Fuck. My control is slipping. But she doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t snap at me. Her breath is shallow, her fingers gripping the bottle tighter.

“Easy,” I say, forcing a grin, keeping it playful. “Didn’t mean to short-circuit you there.”

Her cheeks flush, and she glares. “I’m not short-circuiting.”

“No?” I tip my head. “Because you’re looking a little…” I wiggle my fingers in the air. “Glitchy.”

That earns me a scoff, but her shoulders loosen slightly. She hands the bottle back, curling in on herself again.

“Eat something,” I encourage, nudging the plate toward her. “You need your strength.”

Her gaze flicks to the food, then back to me. She hesitates again, but she’s weakening. Giving in.

“Fine.” She picks up a piece of fruit, nibbling at the edge.

“Atta girl,” I say, pleased.

Her breath catches again, and this time, she looks away quickly, like she’s trying to hide it.

Oh, princess. You’re killing me.

I keep my hands to myself, keep my body relaxed, but every inch of me is on edge. My skin itches with restraint, my muscles coiled too tight. Her scent is a fucking drug, and I’m riding the edge of control, keeping my instincts in check.

Focus.

I shift back slightly, giving her space. “You know, this reminds me of the time I got locked in a bakery overnight.”

She blinks, thrown by the sudden topic change. “What?”

I smirk. “Yep. Got stuck in there after closing. Long story short, I was trying to impress this girl – total disaster, by the way – and ended up hiding in the stockroom when the owner came back early.”

Her lips part, a reluctant curiosity sparking in her eyes.

Encouraged, I continue. “So there I am, trapped in this tiny space, surrounded by sacks of flour, right? And I think, ‘Alright, Blaise, this is fine. You can wait it out.’ But then—” I gesture dramatically. “—a fucking rat scurries over my foot.”

Her brows lift. “A rat?”

“A big one. Like, I swear this thing was half my size.”

That gets me a tiny snort. Progress.

“So, naturally, I freak the hell out. I jump, knock over an entire shelf of baking ingredients, and suddenly – boom. I’m covered head to toe in flour and sugar.”

She stares at me, and then – there it is. A small, barely-there smile.

Fuck, she’s beautiful.

It punches through me with a force I wasn’t ready for. My chest tightens, something deeper than instinct curling in my gut. I shove it down, forcing a grin.

“That’s how I learned that charming bakery girls is not my strong suit.”

She shakes her head, a whisper of amusement crossing her face before her expression turns wary again. She shifts in the nest, pressing her thighs together, breath quickening.

The scent of her need spikes, thick and dizzying.

Shit.

She’s getting worse.

Her heat is clawing at her, dragging her down, and she’s trying so damn hard to fight it. To resist the instincts screaming at her to seek comfort.

I see it in the way she grips the blankets, in the way her eyes flick to me, then away, shame creeping in.

I move slowly, carefully, reaching out to brush a damp strand of hair from her face. She shudders but doesn’t pull away.

“You don’t have to fight this alone, princess,” I murmur.

Her throat bobs. “I?—”

I see the struggle in her. The war between fear and trust, between need and restraint.

My fingers skim lightly over her temple, a soft, grounding touch. “Just say the word,” I whisper. “Whatever you need, we’re here.”

She exhales shakily, her body trembling. Then, finally?—

“Stay.”

The single word is barely audible, but it crashes through me with the force of a hurricane.

I swallow hard, forcing back the growl clawing up my throat. “Yeah, princess. We’ll stay.”

I settle inside the nest, but keeping just enough distance to let her breathe, whilst remaining close enough that she knows she’s not alone.

Her body sags slightly, tension bleeding from her frame.

She trusts me enough to allow me to stay. To keep me near.

And I swear, I won’t let her regret it.