Page 11 of Let It Snow (Eden’s Omegaverse #7)

Why do I have to blush… constantly? Why does he affect me like this?

Snow analyzes my face for a while, he probably sees that I need a break from the intensity that’s been surrounding our meeting. He slowly nods. "Good night, Summer," he says.

Then I guide the pillows out of the car. Along with the rest of the pillows, the ‘fake pillow’ flies out of the trunk too, with the stolen hoodie hidden inside.

They all float upward, scarves and ribbons trailing, like a massive violet and lilac cloud.

I turn toward Snow and give a stiff, awkward bow: my version of thanks, or at least something meant to resemble it.

He responds with a small, but serious nod.

With the pillows hovering above me like balloons, I circle around the house and start climbing the ladder.

The thought crosses my mind—maybe I could try flying too—but I don’t have the courage to manage both myself and the pillows at once.

So I climb the conventional way, while the pillows drift up with me.

A moment later, I unlock the balcony door and let the whole cloud of cushions swirl into the room, dumping them onto the bed in a glorious heap.

Nesting euphoria hits me full force.

I have it. I can finally start.

I dive into them, laughing, though I don’t even know if it’s at myself or out of sheer embarrassment. But one thing is certain, I’m not stopping until my nest feels perfect.

Of course, right away I pick out my little treasure from among them, my sneaky loot. Me, the little scheming thief, I’ve successfully swiped Snow’s hoodie. And I’m not planning to explain myself.

I slowly lift the hoodie to my nose and take a deep breath. What surprises me is that it smells a little different from Snow’s shower gel. It’s pretty worn out by now, but I can still catch the faintest hint, like a distant note echoing far away, and it makes my head spin.

Oh, dear Fate! What a beautiful scent! Heather, fresh wind… I press my face into the fabric, desperate to smell more, but it’s too delicate, so distant, that I finally let out a low AO mating growl of sexual frustration, craving more.

Could this hoodie be from before Snow started using suppressants? Has a faint trace of his original scent survived? Who knows… it’s too weak for me to be sure. But what I did catch sparks a sudden thought in my head: what if Snow and I have high genetic compatibility? That would be… mmm… nice.

I hum softly, rubbing my face against the hoodie, searching for ‘pockets’ of scent, but it must have been in the trunk for a long time.

Oh well, I sigh. It’ll still come in handy. And it’s got a nice color, matches the rest!

The clean, fresh fabrics and smooth textures of the nesting materials all around me make my chest loosen as I shift closer to the edge of the bed to take it in. This is something I want to pour myself fully into.

Grinning with bared teeth, I start working on the nest, weaving the pilfered hoodie into its foundation.

Then I continue with a line of pillows set along the frame, shaping them into an oval.

A long scarf winds back and forth across them, locking them into place.

I add a golden rope, then stack smaller pillows on top as the next layer, weaving cords through so they tuck under the lower level and hold firm.

Finally, I wrap the edges with a wide shawl, circling the whole nest several times before tying it off with soft chiffon bows and a few fabric flowers for good measure. Nice.

Maybe someone else would think it’s a little over the top, but I love it. Gold, silver, and violet blend into a pattern that feels beautiful to me. Part of me thinks it could use some white accents later, but for now, I’m satisfied. Snow’s hoodie is now also neatly built into the wall.

I settle in the center, running my fingers along the edge, leaving behind faint trails of scent from the glands at my wrists. I don’t know if I’ve built nests before, those memories are just as foggy as the rest, but this one feels just right.

Smiling to myself, I curl up. The walls rise just high enough around me that it’s like lying in a little boat, safe and enclosed. But… from inside I notice a few imperfections in the design. Oh now! My work is not done!

◆◆◆

I don’t sleep all night, I’m running on pure adrenaline, and it keeps fueling me. It must be early morning by the time I finally finish, satisfied at last.

My nest is perfect, tall, solid, majestic.

Wanting to watch from outside, I step out of the nest, noticing with some pride that it doesn’t even get damaged, it handles me rolling over its edge just fine, even if I’m not doing it very gracefully.

Then I hear a noise and want to investigate, so I move to the window. From where I stand, I can only see half the pool, the rest blocked by the balcony floor.

But my heart instantly starts racing.

Someone is swimming, and I know immediately who it is. Snow.

We haven’t seen each other for more than a few hours, but already it feels like days.

I fix him with a persistent, intense gaze… and instantly feel silly. Watching an almost naked alpha swim like this feels kind of puppyish.

What is he doing here so early anyway?

I quickly fire up the laptop to check the time. 5:30.

Wow, I really get lost in nesting, completely losing track of time. And I don’t even feel tired.

At this hour, the pool water has to be freezing, even with the sun just peeking over the horizon. Yet it doesn’t seem to bother him. I rarely see anyone swim like Snow, he moves through the water with the precision of a machine, a perfect freestyle from one end to the other, nonstop.

I gently and quietly crack open the balcony door, just enough to step out and see him better. He probably can’t see me, submerged as he is, which gives me a bit of courage.

There is something hypnotic in the way he moves: intense, fast, and powerful. Every stroke, every motion radiates that virile alpha energy, strong and confident, cutting through the water in a perfect line.

I sit down in the rattan chair and just watch him, his body, his… vitality.

It’s hard to see much of him, the sun reflecting off the water, leaving mainly his head popping up and his shoulders.

They catch my attention, there’s something strange about them.

I have no idea if he’s wearing some kind of professional swimwear, like a competitive swimmer.

I decide to wait until he comes out of the water.

I have to wait a while, but I don’t mind. The sun rises, warming the air. Everything smells of grass, flowers, and citrus.

Snow swims for nearly an hour. Incredible. He’s had only four hours of sleep, and yet he maintains that pace the whole time. I wonder if he does this daily, part of his routine.

Finally, the moment comes.

Snow breaks the surface and climbs out using the side ladder. He stands with his back to me, and when he steps onto the pool tiles, the light hits his entire body, revealing every detail.

I freeze, my mouth falling open.

What I thought was a swimsuit turns out not to be a swimsuit at all.

Snow’s skin is covered in something that looks like tattoos, but not ordinary tattoos.

They are intricate, almost like frost patterns on a window, fractal and floral, in extraordinary colors. Most are white, contrasting against his sun-kissed skin. Some are silver, some gold. Thin lines weave across his legs, torso, arms, and back, stopping only around his wrists.

And his body… it is perfect.

Athletic but not overbuilt, with long planes of firm muscle, the tattoos tracing every curve. I’ve never seen tattoos in such colors, how does a tattoo artist get pure chalky white, gold, and silver pigments to show up like that?

He lifts his hands and runs his fingers through his wet hair, long snowy strands falling halfway down his shoulder blades.

My Fate, he’s perfect. My eyes drift down to his groin, catching the pronounced bulge in his black trunks, the tight kind.

He strides along the pool toward the rattan lounge chairs on the far side. He lifts a towel, and when he turns to dry off, his eyes meet mine.

At first, like a startled deer, I want to bolt, but that would look even dumber. So I stay frozen, just watching him. We are about twenty yards apart, him below me as I look down from the third floor.

It is strangely… exciting. The silent connection. He stands still, that lightly amused expression on his face, watching me.

I sit there unmoving, frozen.

Everything is still, except one thing. I feel strange spasms in my… hole. Another traitor?

After a moment, he slowly nods, like a delayed greeting. Then he dries off, tosses the towel over his shoulder, and calmly walks away, circling the building and disappearing behind the citrus grove along the west wall.

There is something catlike in his movements that makes me watch his almost naked body hungrily, tracking every step. By the time he disappears, I realize I am fully hard.

My hand slides down to my cock again. What is happening to me around him? Is it really the heat coming, or maybe there is a simpler explanation: maybe I’m just naturally… horny?

Damn it… in any case, my arousal won’t go down. I stand and walk back into my room, muttering unintelligible gibberish under my breath. Something inside me shifts: wild emotions, frustration at not remembering anything about my past, anything that might clue me in about my own sexual preferences.

One thing is certain: something feral is rising in me, clawing to get out. I don’t know what yet, but it is powerful, angry, unquenched.

I have to release it. I go back to the room, sit on the edge of the bed, gripping my cock. I start stroking, then stop, exhaling loudly. I know immediately… this isn’t enough. I need more.

I jump up, walk to the loose floorboard, and grab the pink dildo with the little eggplant pattern from its box, silently promising to replace this ‘priceless gift’ to its owner. I tear open the packaging.