Page 35 of Seraphina (Castle Omega)

“I’m hormonal,” I say as if defending my omega induced insanity. “One alpha whiff, and I’m struggling in a sea of want and need.”

He hums softly under his breath, acknowledging the complexities of my situation. His eyes, a deep, soulful blue, look down at me. He’s so tall, so big, like a huge, growly bear. Strangely, my hormones and instincts both tell me that he’s safe. Something about the way he carries himself, a sense of quiet strength, makes me feel protected in his presence.

“Swing with me,” he suggests, his deep voice grounding me. He guides me to a swing and carefully maneuvers me to sit on one lone swing, like a silent promise that he won’t let me fall. Then, he positions himself to sit facing the opposite direction, creating a cozy cocoon of safety around us.

I look out along the street, resting my head on the cold chain of the swing. My hair falls over my shoulder in waves, fluttering back and forth as I gently swing beside Max. The cold breeze chills my lungs, allowing me to take a deep breath of crisp air. Above, the white clouds hang low in the sky, thick and ominous, as if just threatening to drop snow on the entire city.

The swing above us squeaks as we rock in silence, the only sound in the quiet morning. The longer we sit in silence, the better I feel, and the easier I can breathe, especially as small wafts of Max’s musk drift over to me. I keep glancing at him through my curtain of hair, quietly observing the giant of a man.

His hair must be long and wavy, and though trimmed, his beard retains a wild quality, as if it’s a direct reflection of who he is on the inside. When he looks my way with his piercing eyes, I sense there’s so much more hidden beneath his façade, andI find myself wanting to know more about this soft alpha who makes me feel small and delicate.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about.” He leans back in his swing, closing his eyes as it rocks gently. Something inside him feels almost childlike, and it intrigues me. Despite his gruff exterior, there’s a vulnerability in his demeanor that draws me in, and I can’t help but wonder what lies beneath the surface of this enigmatic alpha.

Clearly, I can’t tell him how he makes me feel, so I turn away and glance at the sky again. “Snow,” I say, because it isn’t a lie, even though he sits at the forefront of my mind.

“I spent three years in the south, surrounded by snow,” he says, still rocking on his swing. “You’d think I’d be sick of it, but I’m not. It’s peaceful. It gives everything a blank canvas.”

I smirk, his words reminding me of Ashton and the one time he joined Avery and me for ice cream late at night. He had paint stains on his fingers and told us how he stared at a blank canvas all day.

“I don’t know how I feel about snow,” I whisper, looking away. “I used to love it. My twin and I would spend hours trying to make snowmen and then lying in it, creating snow angels.”

“You have a twin?” He looks at me with only one eye open as he leans back on his swing, his curiosity piqued.

“Yeah, Lex.” I sigh, remembering those winters and how long they always felt when we were cooped up inside with my sister. I hated being confined to a house with her.

“You just haven’t had a good snow day,” he teases, making me laugh.

“And what, pray tell, Max, is the perfect snow day to you?” I pause my swing to turn to him fully, intrigued by his answer.

“Well, sugarplum…” He closes his eyes and inhales slowly, savoring the moment. As he speaks, he keeps his eyes closed the entire time, allowing himself to be transported by his ownimagination. “We sleep in, and there are no shades on the window so I can see it drift across the glass. There are so many pillows and blankets, and then we’d get up and have a late breakfast. I’m a pretty decent cook.”

I chuckle at him, feeling warmth spread through me as he paints this vivid picture. Feeling brave, I add, “Good, because I’m an awful cook.” Nerves fill my stomach, thinking that he’s actually including me in his vision. Hell, he may not, and I’m over here being presumptuous, but there’s a connection between us, a spark that seems to grow with each passing moment, and for now, that’s enough to keep me swinging higher, even amid a storm of emotions.

He chuckles, and the sound is like a gentle caress, making my stomach flutter with excitement. “I bet you love all the pastries. I’d prep those the night before,” he comments, and his words have a magical effect on me, making my insides melt. It’s as if he’s painting a vivid picture of a cozy morning, and I can’t help but smile at the thought. “After breakfast, I’d put hot chocolate in the Crock-Pot, and then we’d go outside. There’s a perfect sledding hill on our estate.”

“Sledding?” I question, my curiosity piqued. The concept is almost foreign to me, given that I grew up in a forest and didn’t have designated sledding hills. “I’ve never gone sledding.”

Max pauses in his swinging, sitting up to glare at me in mock shock. “Well, I’ll have to change the fact that you’ve never been sledding. Really? Never?”

“Never,” I admit, biting my lip as I meet his gaze, the intensity in his eyes drawing me in.

“Were you deprived as a child?” he blurts out with a grin, making me laugh.

“No, I just missed out on a lot because of my sister,” I explain, my smile fading as I recall some less pleasant memories.

Ever attentive, Max pinches my chin and tilts my head up, his touch sending tingles through my body. “I promise I’ll take you sledding,” he says, his eyes dipping to my lips, a hint of desire flickering in his gaze.

I don’t know how we got to this moment. Still, Maximillian Harrington is quickly moving from being my enemy to becoming my current alpha crush at least for this hour.

“Wait…” I frown, realization dawning on me. “You are Maximillian Harrington.”

“We covered that,” he says, amusement dancing in his eyes, his palm moving to cup my face, sending shivers down my spine.

“You work at the mental institute.” I slap my forehead in exasperation, dislodging his palm, and he looks genuinely amused at my outburst. “How did I not see this? Gosh, I’m dense.”

“Seraphina.” Max’s voice turns serious again, and once more, he pinches my chin gently. “Don’t talk negatively about yourself,” he warns, his eyes locking onto mine, conveying a sense of protectiveness.

I nod in agreement, but he still holds my chin.

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