Page 56 of Seraphina (Castle Omega)

“Avery’s brownies,” I inform her, closing the picnic basket. “We don’t get through sweets quickly enough, so he slices them up and freezes them.”

“Not eating them?” She feigns shock, her hand to forehead, and collapses against the counter playfully. “Blasphemy.”

“Come on, drama queen, I’ve got something to show you.” I guide her gently by the small of her back, leading her across the kitchen toward the door to the basement.

“I am not dramatic,” she protests.

“And who makes that claim?” I tease.

“Me,” she retorts with a sassiness that shows she’s becoming more comfortable with me. Her growing ease around me is unmistakable, stirring warmth within me.

I hum softly under my breath, flipping on the lights to illuminate the staircase. Seraphina looks up, unsure who should lead, so I take the initiative, descending the sturdy steps into the basement.

As we make our way down, a grand stone fireplace comes into view, casting a cozy glow in the otherwise cool space. The fire isn’t real, it’s just a screen in front of the actual fireplace we rarely use. Our house, perched on the valley’s edge, has a basement that opens to the outside, and enormous floor to ceiling windows grace the far wall, offering a breathtaking view of our surroundings.

We step into the movie room, where a plush, wrap-around couch faces both the fireplace and the television. On the other side, there’s a pool table and a door that leads to the indoor pool.

Seraphina’s eyes light up with excitement, and she hurries over to the pool, practically bouncing on her toes. “That’s a pool!” she exclaims.

“Yes, and it’s heated,” I add.

She lets out a groan of delight. “Swimming here while watching the snow fall must be magical.”

“Would you like to try it sometime?” I inquire, charmed by her enthusiasm.

Her face lights up with a beautiful smile. “Yes, please.” She then turns her attention to the opposite side of the great room, pointing at another door. “What’s through there?”

“That’s what I wanted to show you,” I say, leading her across the basement. Along the far wall are doors styled like shop fronts, each with large windows. “Avery thought of setting up these spaces for our hobbies,” I explain.

“This is incredible,” she marvels, moving toward the first door. She reads, “Avery’s Drum Haven,” aloud and glances back at me, a hint of amusement in her eyes.

“Completely soundproof. He can get quite loud,” I comment. We decorated the storefront in Avery’s favorite colors—black, white, and deep, jewel-toned purple. His drum set sits prominently in front of the window, and they adorned the walls with black-and-white photos of renowned drummers.

Seraphina’s eyes dance with curiosity and wonder. I wish I knew what she was thinking as she looks at the small touches of our pack we put into the rooms.

Her exploration continues to Devlin’s Cigar Oasis. The façade is a classic brick with a wooden sign, exuding an old-world, smoky charm. Inside, there’s a small bar cart with his preferred whiskey and an oversized leather chair.

“It’s fully ventilated to keep smoke out of the house,” I reassure her.

Next, she’s drawn to Maximillian’s Green Thumb Emporium. He adorned the entrance with ivy, which climbs over a faux stone front. Inside, he transformed the space into a verdant oasis with floor to ceiling shelves and a hammock, Max’s preferred spot for napping.

“Max has a passion for his plants,” I say with a light shake of my head. “These are just his indoor collection. You should see his garden outside.”

She smiles softly, moving to the last completed shop, Ashton’s Artistic Hideaway. My heart flutters nervously as she gazes through the window at the mural of a jellyfish surrounded by other sea creatures.

Her attention shifts to the last storefront, the one still unoccupied. It’s a space reserved for our future omega. She pauses there, her hand lingering on the handle to my studio, before turning back to me.

“Go ahead,” I encourage her. Though not as spacious as our bedrooms, the studios are sizable, akin to a one-car garage. She turns the knob and steps inside, the lights flickering on overhead.

I lean against the doorframe, observing her as she takes in my studio. Oversized canvases line one wall, and a small workstation sits in the center. A couple of easels stand in another corner, and two deep purple chairs, courtesy of Avery, occupy another space.

“This is incredible,” she exclaims, spinning around before settling into one of the chairs. “I love this little town vibe.”

“It’s something that grew on us,” I admit, joining her and placing the picnic basket on the coffee table. “Avery insisted on the chairs, saying I needed to take breaks now and then.”

“You should,” she agrees, reaching for a water bottle as I open the basket. “Have you ever seen the sanctuary’s art room?” she asks.

And there it is, the moment of truth. Time to confess my hidden observations, my unseen presence in her world.

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