Page 8 of Bound By Song (Evie Quad Omegaverse #1)

The dry one mutters something I can’t quite make out, but it makes the teasing one laugh. “Yeah, I reckon she’s probably scared out of her mind right now.”

They know I’m here. And they’re laughing at me. At my fear. God, maybe they can smell it.

I know one thing for certain: these alphas aren’t leaving until I make them.

I take a deep breath, steadying my grip on the rolling pin, channelling my feistier, braver sister, Evelyn. It’s ridiculous, really – three massive alphas outside, and I’m armed with nothing but a kitchen utensil. But I’ve got no intention of opening that door unless I absolutely have to.

“All right, then,” the deep-voiced one calls. “If you don’t want to talk, we’ll figure it out ourselves. But…” A pause. “You might want to check your door. The lock seems a bit loose.”

My heart stutters. The lock is old. I’ve been meaning to replace it for years, but I never imagined it might come to this.

That’s the trouble with old properties; you’re always chasing repair after repair.

There’s never any respite from it, never a day off.

Something always needs doing and frankly, I’m exhausted.

My sisters wanted to sell this place and split the profits after Grams died and we eventually came of age, but unlike the others who were eager to spread their wings and start living their life, I couldn’t bear to leave the safety and comfort of the only home I’ve ever known.

Even if it was a prison at times. And so I got to remain in the property when they left, but that also means that all of the maintenance and upkeep falls to me too.

However, mentally, I’m moving new locks to the top of the list of urgent shit I have to do.

The teasing one chimes in, “We’ll just…leave a note or something. Yeah?”

A scuffling sound follows – footsteps moving closer to the windows, boots scratching against the old wooden porch. It’s desperately in need of sanding down. I press my back against the wall, holding my breath as the shadow of one of them passes outside the kitchen window.

“Doesn’t look abandoned,” the teasing one says, his voice closer now. “Bit of a mess, sure, but someone’s living here.”

“Thank you, Sherlock,” the deep one mutters.

The shadow moves on, and I exhale quietly. This is fine. They’ll give up eventually. They’ll?—

A loud crack echoes from the porch. My head jerks up. What the hell are they doing? Oh my god, they really are trying to break in!

“Whoa,” one of them says, laughing. “Guess we’re not welcome.”

I glance around the edge of the window, just in time to see the dry one pull his foot out of a now-splintered floorboard. Great. That’s another thing I’ll have to fix. As if I can spare the wood, the time, or the funds.

“Let’s go,” the dry one says. He sounds more annoyed now, though still oddly amused. “Clearly no one’s home.”

But the teasing one lingers, leaning against the porch rail as he calls out one last time. “Hey, if you’re in there, you’ve got about five seconds before my friend here drags us off. So…if you do want to talk, now’s the time.”

Five seconds.

Four.

Three.

Two.

I move to the door before I can think better of it, wrenching it open just enough to glare at them.

Why? Why did I open the door? It’s not like I want to speak to them…is it?

I don’t know anymore. I don’t feel entirely in control of myself right now.

“What do you want?” I snap, my voice sharp as the winter air that rushes to greet me.

Three heads turn towards me, and for a moment, the air feels too thick, too charged.

I forget how to breathe.

They’re gorgeous. Absolutely stunning, in a rough, ruggedly-handsome and absolutely terrifying, towering over me kind of way.

Who are these men? They’re…they’re…holy shit.

Something trickles down my thighs, making my eyes widen in shock. Oh god, what the hell is that? What is happening to me?

Then I realise: It’s slick.

What. The. Fuck.

I hope they can’t smell that.

These are the first alphas I’ve been face to face with in years and…well…my stirring, sleepy omega likes what she sees.

A lot.

Their eyes rake over me – curious, assessing. The teasing redheaded one grins, and the dry, dark one’s brow quirks in mild surprise. But it’s the blond-haired, deep-voiced one who holds my gaze, his expression unreadable.

“Well,” the grinning one says, breaking the silence, “there she is. Thought we’d imagined you for a second there.”

“Did you?” I say coolly, gripping the edge of the door and somehow managing to sound way more pulled together than I’m currently feeling. “I don’t remember inviting you to splinter my porch.”

That earns me a laugh, low and warm, as he runs a hand through his ruffled red hair, making it glint in the light. It’s beautiful. So soft looking. I want to run my fingers through it and?—

“Sorry about that. Bit of a misstep. Literally.”

The deep-voiced, dark-haired one steps forward, cutting off his mate with a pointed look. “We’re lost,” he says simply, his tone clipped. “Sat-nav brought us here. We’re supposed to be renting a house nearby.”

“Well, this isn’t it,” I say firmly, shaking fantasies of silken locks slipping between my nimble fingers from my mind. I need to get a grip. “And there’s no houses nearby. So you can just turn around and try again.”

He nods once, but his eyes linger on me, sharp and unsettling. I don’t like how he’s looking at me, like he’s trying to unravel a puzzle.

“Your door,” he says suddenly with a chin nod towards the offending item. “The lock’s weak. You should fix it.”

I blink. “Thanks for the advice.” That I didn’t ask for, I silently snark, sounding like my sister in my head at least and applauding myself for my bravery.

He doesn’t move. None of them do. The blond leans lazily against the post now, his gaze flicking between me and the other two.

He has kind, intelligent eyes, but from here I can’t make out the exact shade.

Dark. A brown maybe. Warm. He doesn’t look amused like the grinning redhead, but there’s a quiet sort of curiosity in his expression that puts me on edge.

“Look,” I say, my grip tightening on the door, “I don’t know what you’re expecting here, but this isn’t some rental cottage, all right? You’ve got the wrong place.”

The teasing redhead smirks. “She’s charming, isn’t she?”

“Go,” I say sharply. “Now.”

The deep-voiced dark one raises his hands in a placating gesture. “We’re leaving.” He glances at the other two, his tone brooking no argument. “Come on.”

Reluctantly, they back away, moving towards the 4x4. I stay in the doorway, watching, waiting. Only when the engine starts do I finally step back, shutting the door and locking it again.

I lean against it, my knees threatening to give way as my whole body trembles, the rolling pin still clutched in my hand.

I glance down at it. The colour has bled from my knuckles and been replaced with white purer than the winter snow.

My heart is racing like I’ve run a marathon, and my mouth is dry with something other than just terror.

They’re gone.

For now.

But the air still feels heavy, charged with something I can’t name. I’m not sure if I survived the storm – or if I’ve just been pulled into the eye of it.