The Seasons

Chapter 7

It had been three days since Cairo had come and graced everyone with his annoying presence. Winter didn’t even know what half of this meant and didn’t want to know if he was being honest.

He looked around his small white and blue studio apartment and at all the half-finished paintings scattered around, barely visible through the moonlight coming in from the large floor-to-ceiling windows in the curve of the wall. He hated that his tv station was there. Still, there weren’t many options where he could have placed it, and the deafening silence seemed the one constant thing.

He let out a laugh, a loud and painful laugh. He ignored his phone as it continued to ring, which had been carelessly thrown onto the table beside his sixth ‘you look pretty today’ note when he had crashed on the sofa. He ignored the urge to cry as the Moon Goddess’s voice echoed through his ears.

“I’m sorry, Winter. Citrus had been your only mate.”

And now he was dead. He wouldn’t have accepted him anyway, but the whole concept of having to live his long life alone made his skin crawl. Wolves weren’t meant to spend their lives alone, they had their pack and mate, and he had neither. Well, that wasn’t particularly true. He considered his friends his unofficial pack, but half weren’t wolves even then. But for as long as he could remember, he would hear the matron’s voice from the orphanage telling him there was someone for him; there was someone for everyone, and despite how alone he was, he wouldn’t always be alone. And that was what pushed him through each dreadful day. That he would, one day, find his mate

And when he met Citrus, and his wolf lost his s**t at the ripe age of 25, he had been overjoyed. But then he learned about everything, and that happiness he felt, well, it disappeared. Why would he want to mate with someone in love with someone else?

And why did Maddox get to have three mates, and he had none? How was that fair? And then he hated himself for even thinking like that of Maddox, who had helped him through so much. But the truth was, Maddox was happy, so why couldn’t he be satisfied?

That was all he wanted. So why was something so mundane so hard for him to achieve? Was he paying for the sins of a past life?

Winter groaned in annoyance as he put down the bottle of vodka and answered the phone, which had not stopped ringing. He turned as he stared at the note, the letters written in blood. “What!?” he snapped.

“What is your problem? Come to the f*****g seasons,” Jasper hissed, and before Winter could reply, the human hung up.

Ah, Jasper. Another example of having everything he wanted and Winter hating himself for being envious of him. Over the past couple of years, the two had become very friendly, and Jasper was one of the few people Winter had invited into his sorry excuse of an apartment. Sure, he should have been glad he at least had a roof over his head, but after seeing all the fancy houses and apartments, his friends lived in and then showing them his, well, it didn’t sit right with him. So, he sighed as he shrugged his coat back on; he looked down at his sorry state and then dragged himself to the bedroom; after binning the note, he eyed the papers, which were now beginning to pile up and sighed. His bedroom was just a loft with stairs that turned near the door. He went through his closet and grabbed some fresh clothes.

He slipped into a white hoodie and another pair of black jeans. Once his feet were in his black combat boots, he looked in the mirror at the collar keeping him protected. He eyed his barely visible eyebrows, light blue eyes, and ashen hair. His crescent moon earring seemed to glisten as it caught the moon’s light from the window, the curtains covering it. He eyed the half-discarded bottle of vodka on the ground beside his white and blue bed.

He knew vodka did nothing for werewolves, but the way it burned when it went down his throat was what he enjoyed, not the getting drunk. If he wanted to get drunk, he would drink Moonshine.

The rest of the seasons had helped him decorate all those years ago, and they had decorated the place white and blue because of winter and his name being winter.

He had been named Winter because he had been born in Winter and suffered from Albinism. It was a rare illness for a wolf to have, but he happened to have it. Not much he could do. Walking back down into the living space, he grabbed his coat, slipped it on and grabbed his phone. He locked his door as he made his way to The Seasons. He hated how he was always cold. No matter the weather, he was constantly f*****g cold.

When he arrived at The Seasons, he went to the bar and smiled at the regulars who called out to him. Cairo, Thorne and Wing were sitting at the bar. All three had blood in their thermos as they sat quietly.

“Who died between you three?” Slaine deadpanned as he slipped behind the counter, eyeing them.

“Their bond as father and son,” Wing replied as he took a big slurp of the blood. He had adjusted to living as a vampire much better than Slaine had.

“You’re not funny,” Thorne replied as he elbowed his friend.

“I’m hilarious.”

Winter sighed. “Where’s Jasper?”

“At the back,” Wing replied, waving towards the door.

“Why are you three sitting out here?”

“They’re chatting s**t about me and didn’t want me there,” Wing said, shrugging as he sipped the blood,

Winter looked between father and son, waiting for their reasons. “I am his bodyguard,” Cairo replied, finishing off his blood.

Thorne scowled. “I’m not leaving Wing with him. He’d put his dirty little hands all over my best friend.”

“Can you stop slagging me off to everyone?” Cairo deadpanned as he stared at his son.

Cairo and Thorne had the same shade of brown skin and dark hair, although the lengths varied and the same shade of hazel eyes. Their noses were similar in shape, slim and straight. Their cheekbones were the same shape, too; sitting beside one another, one could clearly say there were related.

“You are a slag,” Thorne snapped, his dark eyebrows raising.

“I am your father.”

Thorne took a sip of his blood, an unamused expression on his face. “You’re a slag,” he deadpanned.

“Okay,” Wing said, flailing his arms around, knocking them both. “We get it, Cairo is your father, and he’s a slag; can we f*****g move on.”

Winter sighed, raking a hand through his short hair. He opened the door between the two shelves and stuck his head in. “Why did Jasper want me here?”

He frowned when he realised the majority of them were all here. “Oh, good, you’re here. Do me a favour, man, the counter. We can’t just leave it empty and send the other three in,” Neo replied.

Winter wanted to argue. Everyone was here. Hell, even Summer, a human, got to listen to this essential conversation, and the only reason he had been called in was to ‘man the counter’. How the f**k was that fair? But honestly, the quicker they were done with whatever was happening, the quicker Autumn and Summer got to man the counter, and he could find someone to leave with. So, he nodded.

Despite the burning sensation in his gut, telling him the whole reason he was out there, and not in there with everyone else trying to help was all because he was being a burden.

~*~