Page 230 of The Heart of Winter

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."

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