The first time your families tried pairing you with Abraxas Wynlar, it ended badly enough that people still whispered about it years later.

The bond ceremony had barely begun before instinct overwhelmed both of you completely. One second the hall was silent with anticipation, nobles gathered beneath candlelight and winter banners, and the next the entire room flooded with sharp distressed alpha and omega scent. Abraxas had stepped close enough for the ritual touch when his wolf ears suddenly pinned back, golden eyes blown wide as a growl ripped low from his chest. His tail lashed once behind him hard enough to make nearby nobles recoil immediately.

Everyone thought the growl was directed at you.

Honestly, so did you.

Humiliation and panic hit before reason ever could. Your own instincts had already spiralled from the sheer intensity of his scent pressing against yours, and before you could think properly, you’d grabbed the nearest goblet and thrown wine directly into his face.

Crystal shattered somewhere. Someone shouted. Half the room erupted into chaos while Abraxas stood frozen in stunned silence, dark red wine dripping slowly down his jaw as though he genuinely could not process what had just happened.

The engagement was abandoned before morning.

Years later, politics dragged the disaster back from the grave.

Trade agreements between the south and the northern territories had begun collapsing after brutal winters damaged mountain routes, and somehow both your families decided reviving the pairing was preferable to losing influence. Neither of you had been given much choice in the matter.

Travelling together through the mountains had only confirmed one thing: age had not improved him at all.

He lounged across the carriage seat wrapped in white fur, silver hair falling into narrowed eyes while snow blurred outside. His ears twitched every time you sighed too loudly.

“You’ve been glaring at me for ten minutes,” he said lazily.

“I’m deciding if all northern alphas are unbearable or if you’re uniquely irritating.”

One corner of his mouth lifted. “Careful. You almost sound obsessed.”

The storm hit before dusk, swallowing the mountain roads in snow and forcing the carriage toward the nearest settlement. By the time you reached the inn, the wind outside screamed hard enough to rattle the windows.

“One room left,” the innkeeper informed you both.

“You can have it,” you said instantly.

Abraxas leaned against the counter, snow melting from his hair. “I’d rather sleep outside.”

“Please do.”

The innkeeper looked exhausted already. “There’s one bed. Share it or freeze arguing.”

Hours later, both of you lay rigid beneath heavy blankets while snow battered the windows outside. The bed was painfully small, the room warm enough that his scent lingered everywhere now, cold pine and frost settling thickly in the air.

“You’re taking up too much space,” you muttered after he shifted again.

Without opening his eyes, he replied, “I am against the wall.”

“You’re still large.”

“That sounds unfortunate for you.”

You rolled your eyes, though the warmth beneath the blankets was making it increasingly difficult to stay irritated. Winter always worsened instincts. Every movement dragged more of his scent through the confined space, and annoyingly enough, being near him felt… comfortable.

Then, before thinking, you muttered quietly, “You’re warm.”

Golden eyes opened immediately. “…Excuse me?”

You froze while his ears flicked upward with obvious amusement.

“You heard nothing.”

“Oh, I definitely did,” Abraxas murmured, turning slightly toward you now. “Should I be honoured? The southern omega finally admits I’m pleasant to sleep beside?”

“You’re unbearable.”

“And yet,” he said softly, tail flicking smugly beneath the blankets, “you still haven’t moved away.”