Page 47

Winter and I spent the rest of Friday and most of Saturday at Winter’s parents' house. As the evening was approaching, we decided to head home. We were dying to finally have some time alone together, just to be with each other without witnesses and a house full of people with… excellent hearing.

But the intimacy we craved didn’t quite get a chance to happen as quickly as we would have liked.

Somewhere during our drive home, Winter’s dad must have already called every son that didn’t live with them, cousins, second cousins, and other distant relatives in the family. By the time we got back, Winter’s phone was blowing up, message after message, call after call. Everyone was offering congratulations.

So it took a while.

All his brothers were excited about him finding his True Mate and expecting not one but two children at once. Even Skye called, and I could hear that he was kind of laughing at the surreality of the situation, that his beta brother was suddenly going to be the father of two, but he was sincerely happy Winter’s life had taken this turn.

The same day, late evening, we finally had an intense round of passionate love-making, after which we lay tangled together in bed, wordless, just staring into each other’s eyes, drunk on the kind of electric energy flowing between us, that felt like pink bubbles fizzing in a glass of strawberry soda.

Suddenly, on an impulse, I slowly lowered my hand and put it on Winter’s flat belly, that would not stay flat too long.

Winter let out a soft, surprised gasp and his fingers entwined with mine, but then… he freed them and… placed his palm on my belly!

We looked each other deep into our eyes, the moment felt special, like an acknowledgement of the unique and wonderful situation we were both in.

There were no words, just the exchange of energy, and my whole body was slightly trembling in a mental ecstasy, basking in happiness.

And then suddenly Winter broke the sweet silence and said,

"I'm starting to think maybe the decor in my apartment is a bit too minimalist… I mean, an artist is going to be living here, after all. What do you think about starting in the bedroom: brightening it up a bit, maybe adding some cozy pillows?"

I blinked, a little surprised. "Absolutely, if it’s not a problem for you?"

"Not at all. Maybe we could go shopping tomorrow after work? I saw a set of really nice pillows and throws in the window of that store we passed on the way home…"

I had to cut him off. "Wait, wait… a set like for nesting?"

Winter froze for a second and swallowed.

"I just thought it looked… nice. I think it would fit in here. A lot of the pillows had soft mint and turquoise tones…"

I narrowed my eyes.

"The store two blocks from here, just before the turn on the right?"

"Yes, exactly that one! What, you noticed it too?"

Was I blushing?

"Yeah… it caught my eye when we slowed down at the light. It really is nice, purely from an aesthetic perspective, of course, no deeper meaning or anything…"

Winter grinned. "Glad we're on the same page, then!"

"Who else would be, if not us…"

Very slowly, I leaned in and softly kissed his beautiful lips. Well, let’s just say, it didn’t end there.

***

Early the next morning, we drifted out to Winter’s terrace to enjoy the sunrise.

As I passed through the living room, something caught my eye: his bass guitar, leaning in the corner, a soft layer of dust was covering the strings. He hadn’t touched it in almost a month, not since the island.

I hesitated for a second, then carefully lifted it. Outside, Winter was already unfolding lounge chairs from beneath the canopy, the early morning light casting a golden glow over his naked arms.

The weather was perfect, the sky dazzling with the peachy blush of sunrise, the wind just enough to lift the strands of Winter’s long platinum hair.

When he turned and saw what I was holding, he stopped in his tracks.

"Sariel… what are you doing?"

I placed the bass carefully next to his chair and gave him a sheepish smile. "I don’t know. I just… kinda hoped you’d play something for me?"

His light eyes locked onto mine, his face thoughtful for a long second.

"I don’t usually play for people," he admitted, slightly biting his lip. "But for you, I’ll make an exception." He paused, something flickering in his eyes. "Only if…"

"Only if?" I grinned.

"If you dance to it."

"Dance?! I—I…" I fumbled for excuses, but there weren’t any good ones. If I wanted the music, I had to give something in return. I huffed and gave in. "Fine. But I’m rusty. The island’s still in my bones."

Winter chuckled. "Same here. It’s still in my fingers."

We shared a knowing look, half grin, half challenge.

"Alright," he said, plugging it in and settling into the chair with the bass in his lap. "Gotta tune it first. I need my tuner, wait…" He blinked, then gave me a curious glance. "Alphas and omegas have perfect pitch, don’t they?"

"Of course they do," I teased. "Might be a good time to test it."

Winter tilted his head pensively, then nodded. "I’ll try tuning it by ear."

He began gently plucking the E string, twisting the tuning peg, listening with sharp focus. Then the A string. He closed his eyes for a second, adjusting it ever so slightly.

"You look so hot like this," I blurted, watching the way his black tank top clung to his frame. His long hair fell over one shoulder like a silk curtain, and the way he leaned into the instrument—fingers sure, expression focused—was almost too much. "Gonna slap that bass?"

Winter glanced up, amused. "What a pro lingua! Slap the b…ass?"

I rolled my eyes, giggling. "Later. First, I need to hear you play. You’re driving me crazy looking like this."

He snorted. "My whole family plays instruments, except for Storm. It’s not a big deal."

"Not for me. My father only plays on my nerves. My dad plays along." I tried to joke, but it came out a bit flat.

However, Winter had mercy on me and gave a small smirk. "I guess because I’m his High Mate, I see him in a better light. We always understood each other well."

As he continued tuning, his face softened with wonder. "I can’t believe how clearly I hear the notes now…"

But I was like a dog with a bone, not so eager to change the topic. Tilting my head, I asked, "Ever had the hots for him?"

Winter burst into laughter. "No. He’s way too much like me—ambitious, competitive. We’d have been a second ‘me and Finn’ misfire: close to perfect, but still an inch off." He plucked another string. "And I’m an all-or-nothing kind of guy."

My eyebrows went up. "That’s Blue’s life motto."

"I bet Blue’s my High Mate too." Winter winked.

"Jealous here!"

"No need," he said with a sly smile, turning to the side to take a sip out of his tea. "Nothing compares to you, baby. Now get ready. We’re starting."

I stretched my arms and shoulders as Winter began warming up, his fingers dancing across the fretboard with confident ease.

"This one’s a bass solo composed by Snow. He’s ridiculously talented. One day, someone will finally recognize that."

"Hit me with it."

He started playing, and damn, some say the bass can’t hold a melody, but I call total BS. Winter’s bass sang. It grooved and glided, a deep, soulful rhythm wrapped in melody. It pulled something out of me immediately, like a magnet on my spine.

I began to move, first just my arms, fluid and slow, then my shoulders and hips joined in. The rhythm seeped through my skin, down into my joints, and I let it carry me. I let my body sway, loose and instinctive, riding on the groove. I popped my shoulders with a sharp snap, then let them fall into a wave that rolled down my spine. My feet shifted across the terrace tiles in a glide, my knees bending and bouncing with the rhythm.

Locking in to Winter’s playing, I dropped into a low stance, knees wide, then spun up on one foot, kicking out with sharp precision. My hands sliced through the air like accents to the beat. It wasn’t a showy routine, this was intimate. A conversation between my body’s movement and the sound he offered me, flowing from his skilled fingers.

I added in some glides, pivoting with controlled balance, then twisted into a tight spin before freezing in place, perfectly still, only my fingertips twitching in sync with the bassline.

And then, something shifted. I caught his eyes.

The music grew deeper, more sensual, and I let my movements slow, smoldering instead of striking. I moved closer to him, rolling my hips in a slow groove. A pop of my chest. A pause. Then a ballet turn, light on my feet, arms arcing gracefully before I collapsed into a lock, head tilted, body still, but eyes burning into his.

Winter's fingers slowed their rhythm, his eyes never leaving me.

The final notes faded into the evening air like smoke. His hands slipped off the bass, and for a moment, he just stared.

"You play soooo good!" I exclaimed, giving him a dramatic bow, arms behind my back like I was presenting myself to a prince.

Winter snorted. "And you dance so… professionally. Like you became the music. You gave it all. Like always…"

"Not sure about the ‘professional’ complement, but I’ll take the part with ‘giving it all’." I grinned. "But we definitely need to do this more often. Maybe add more elements?"

"I’d love to," he said, then narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Just don’t ask me to sing."

"Wait—you can sing ?! Now you have to—"

Winter suddenly tossed the bass to the side and stood up in a single smooth, almost wild movement. He grabbed me by the waist, pulling me close, eyes glinting.

His face was right in front of mine. "What I have to do," he said, voice low and deliciously dangerous, "is take you to the bedroom. That was way too sexy to let the energy go to waste."

My gaze dropped to his mouth, those sinful lips.

And I answered him, but not with words.

***

The next day, I spent hours under the scrutinizing eye of the head designer, Werner, who apparently hadn’t gotten the memo that I was a traumatized plane crash survivor and put me through the usual grind instead. But as soon as it was over, Winter and I headed out shopping in an unspoken agreement.

With a touch of embarrassment, we bought a beautiful mint-colored pillow set, complete with a very telling label: ‘nesting kit’. But we both pretended we just liked the look of it.

As soon as we got home, we made a beeline for the bedroom and got to work, building our very first… well, let’s not kid ourselves and name it properly: our first nest.

We did it mostly in silence, broken occasionally by giggles that made us feel like teenagers.

It wasn’t perfect, definitely not. Any omega could’ve built something way better, way sturdier. Ours was barely holding together. But hey, we each only had part of an omega’s nature in us, so we weren’t about to be too hard on ourselves.

When it was more or less done, Winter looked at the colorful circle of pillows with a soft, sentimental smile. Then he grew quiet and gently touched one of them.

"All is going to change, Sariel… A completely new life awaits us," he whispered.

"Yeah… but I’m not scared of change. Not with you by my side. I was in hell and back with you. It seems like a walk in a park…"

Our eyes met—and soon after, so did our lips.

I mean, come on… we had to christen our nest, right?

***

Life with Winter fell into place so effortlessly, it almost felt surreal. Strangely smooth; but then again, maybe not so strange for a fated pair?

We had no problems adjusting to daily life together, not even with the usual domestic stuff like chores. We liked the same food, the same movies, the same music. Everything just clicked.

At work, our relationship didn’t shock anyone either. Manager Lorens even claimed he’d seen it coming from the start, but I didn’t believe him, since he had a knack for sucking up.

It quickly became a routine: as soon as we got home from work, Winter and I would practically pounce on each other, fucking passionately or making love, more slowly and gently. Sometimes it lasted for hours, with us easily swapping roles mid-flow, because neither of us was bound to just one. In the end, we both represented two sides now—Alpha and Omega—in one.

On long evenings, lying tangled in bed, Winter would sometimes trace my face with his fingers, gazing at me like he still couldn’t quite believe we were real.

Every so often, he’d admit that he sometimes woke up in the middle of the night, heart pounding, terrified he was back on that cold, empty beach. I was amazed and grateful that he trusted me enough to be vulnerable like that.

Only then did I admit that I, too, had moments of panic, how some nights, I’d wake up feeling shaky and unsteady, like I was about to fall into the abyss.

We talked openly about our fears and hopes, slowly weaving a deeper intimacy between us.

After a few weeks, the worst of our night terrors faded. The magic of True Mates had done its quiet work, gently healing the cracked places in both our minds. The trauma from the island no longer hovered over us like a storm cloud, but had dissolved, losing its power.

One of the most unexpectedly joyful parts of our new life?

We were both pregnant.

We spent hours comparing symptoms, inspecting changes in our bodies, and reading endless pregnancy articles aloud to each other. Every detail fascinated us. We were changing together, growing together, learning, and it felt like something sacred.

And thanks to the perks of being fated mates, we didn’t experience any of the usual downsides. No morning sickness, no bloating, no fatigue. Instead, we got to enjoy the infamous spike in libido that came with perfect mateship pregnancies… and we made full use of it.

Day by day, I watched Winter change, soften. The once-distant, cautious man became warmer, more open to cuddling, more likely to reach for me just because he could. He wasn’t shy about initiating touch or sex anymore, and he admitted it was a new, kind of thrilling experience for him. The safety of our bond gave him the space to explore new ways of expressing himself.

We were building something very much our own, different from what we had on the island. This time, it was in a world that was safe, stable, and calm. We didn’t have to fight through extremes anymore… though we both knew that if things ever got rough again, we could count on each other completely.

That kind of bond, earned through near-death and survival, wasn’t something most couples had. We deeply appreciated everything we had.

But maybe the best part of all was how profoundly we understood each other. We didn’t just share similar tastes, we had similar ways of seeing the world, of thinking and responding. Yet, we weren’t the same. We weren’t copies, we were complements . A perfect match, not a mirror.

Looking back, it seemed almost ridiculous we hadn’t realized we were destined for each other sooner.

Sure, I’d felt it, somewhere in the background, a hum I couldn’t name. But I hadn’t let myself believe it one hundred percent, until the test confirmed it. And once it did, everything just… settled.

No more doubt. No more stress.

Just ease. Just harmony.

Or maybe, better yet—synergy.