The light lunch had been a quiet affair, a tentative truce after the morning's emotional earthquake. Althea pushed her food around her plate, the ghost of the rooftop memory a cold shroud over her appetite, while Haven watched her with a silence that felt less like judgment and more like a vigilant guard waiting for the next aftershock.
But as they stepped onto the powder-soft sand of the resort's private beach, the atmosphere shifted. The air was warm and heavy with the scent of salt and blooming frangipani. The sun, now past its zenith, cast long, golden shadows and painted the sky in hues of orange and lavender. The turquoise water lapped at the shore with a rhythmic, soothing whisper. It was impossible to feel completely desolate in the face of such beauty.
Althea, clad in her daring crimson swimsuit that made her feel like a conquering goddess, did a little twirl, the sand cool between her toes. Then she stopped, hands on her hips, and fixed a stare on her wife.
Haven, ever the pragmatist, had not changed. She stood there in a pair of tailored linen trousers and a simple, elegant white blouse, looking less like someone on vacation and more like a CEO who had accidentally wandered onto a film set.
"Haven," Althea said, her voice still a little hoarse but laced with familiar, mocking delight. "Why are you not wearing a swimsuit? Hello? We are not here to discuss quarterly reports! We are here to discuss the molecular composition of liquid salt and the aerodynamic properties of seagulls! This is a sacred, scientific endeavor!"
Haven was meticulously arranging a large, comfortable-looking mat under the shade of a provided cabana, smoothing out non-existent wrinkles. "I am adequately attired for a coastal environment. My role is supervisory."
"Supervisory?" Althea cackled, plopping down onto the mat Haven had just perfected. "You're not my lifeguard, you're my wife! Your role is to get sand in unmentionable places and complain about it with me later!" She flopped onto her stomach and thrust a bottle of high-SPF sunscreen into Haven's hand. "HAVEN! DO ME A FAVOR AND APPLY THIS SUNSCREEN PROTECTOR FOR MY BACK! YOU KNOW I CAN'T REACH IT AND MY DELICATE, FAMOUS SKIN CANNOT BE MARRED BY THE HARSH REALITIES OF SOLAR RADIATION!"
Haven stared at the bottle as if it were a live grenade. A faint, long-suffering sigh escaped her. But after a moment's hesitation, she knelt.
Althea braced herself for a clinical, efficient slathering. What she got was something entirely different. Haven's hands, though initially hesitant, were incredibly meticulous. She warmed the lotion in her palms first, then began applying it to Althea's back with slow, firm, circular motions. Her touch was methodical yet surprisingly gentle, covering every inch of skin from the nape of her neck down to the small of her back. It wasn't just a task; it was a careful, thorough act of care.
A involuntary, pleased shudder ran through Althea. "Ooh, Haven, that tickles… aaa, it feels so good. Your CEO hands have hidden talents. Are you sure you don't have a secret side gig as a professional masseuse?"
The hands stilled. "Stop it. You're making it weird," Haven muttered, her voice tight. But Althea didn't miss the way her fingers trembled just slightly before resuming their work.
"I'm not making it weird, I'm providing feedback! 'CEO's sunscreen application: surprisingly sensual, five stars, would recommend.' I'm gonna put it in my review of this resort."
"Do not," Haven commanded, finishing the job with a final, definitive pat that was anything but sensual. "There. You are now protected from 98% of UVA and UVB rays."
Althea sat up, grinning. "And 100% protected from your grumpiness." She sprang to her feet, energy returning, and headed for the water's edge. The memory of the morning was still there, a bruise on her soul, but the ocean was calling to something deeper, something that needed to be cleansed.
She felt Haven materialize beside her, a line of tension in the relaxing air. "Are you certain you want to go into the water?" Haven asked, her voice low.
Althea looked out at the endless blue. "I'm sure. Besides," she added, turning to her with a wry smile, "you know I don't know how to swim. Amnesia, remember? Wiped the slate clean, including my freestyle."
Haven's jaw tightened. "Fine. I will assist you. But you will stay close to me. The current can be deceptive."
"Okii, yay!" Althea chirped, taking her hand and pulling her into the shallows. The water was blissfully cool, a shock that felt like waking up. "Okay, Professor Hartwell, teach me how to swim!"
What followed was a lesson in controlled chaos. Haven, true to form, began with a dry, technical explanation of buoyancy and proper kicking form, as if they were in a boardroom discussing fluid dynamics.
"thus, the propulsion is generated not from the knee, but from the hip, with a whipping motion of the entire lower limb"
"Haven," Althea interrupted, splashing water lightly at her. "Less talking, more doing! Just show me!"
With a sigh of pure exasperation, Haven demonstrated a flawless, effortless flutter kick, her body cutting through the water like a knife. Althea tried to mimic her, resulting in a chaotic, splashing frenzy that looked less like swimming and more like a duck having a seizure.
"I feel like a dog!" Althea laughed, managing a clumsy, paddling motion with her arms. "A very, very uncoordinated dog! If Sushi was here, he'd be showing me up right now!"
Despite herself, a faint smile touched Haven's lips. "Your form is… enthusiastic."
They played like that for a while, the banter flowing as easily as the current. Althea, feeling bold, tried to splash Haven properly. A wave of water hit the Alpha square in the chest, soaking her pristine white blouse and leaving it transparently clinging to her skin.
Haven froze, blinking water from her eyes. For a heart-stopping second, Althea thought she'd gone too far. Then, a look of pure, unadulterated mischief a look Althea had never seen before flashed in Haven's grey eyes. In a move almost too fast to follow, Haven swept her arm through the water, sending a veritable wall of it crashing over Althea's head.
Althea came up sputtering and laughing, her hair plastered to her face. "You— you absolute—!"
And that's when it happened. A sharp, stabbing pain seized the muscle in her right calf, locking it in a vicious cramp. She gasped, her leg buckling beneath her. "Haven—!"
But the physical pain was instantly eclipsed by a psychic one. As the water closed over her head for a second time, a memory, cold and dark as the deep sea, swallowed her whole.
She was walking. Not playing, not swimming. Walking with a terrible, single-minded purpose into the deepening water. The waves tugged at her nightgown, the cold a numb promise. The car crash… the article said the car went into the sea. Her family had drowned in the cold and the dark. It seemed… fitting. The world was a muffled, roaring silence. Then, strong arms were around her again, wrestling her back from the abyss, a voice cracking with panic—
—BLANK.
She returned to the present, coughing up saltwater, to find herself cradled tightly against Haven's chest. The Alpha was striding back towards the shore, her face a mask of fury and fear.
"I told you to stay close to me!" Haven's voice was a raw, shaken growl, so unlike her usual controlled tone. It was the voice from the memory.
Althea, trembling from both the cramp and the emotional whiplash, clung to her. "I had a leg cramp, I'm sorry, Haven," she whispered.
And then she looked up, really looked at Haven's face the determined set of her jaw, the storm in her eyes, the way she held her as if the ocean itself might try to steal her away and the final piece of the memory clicked into place. The person who had pulled her from the sea, just like from the rooftop, was Haven.
Tears, hot and sudden, mixed with the saltwater on her face. "Haven," she choked out, her voice breaking. "I remembered something again. You… you came there to save me. Back then. From the sea. Thank you."
Haven's steps faltered for a second. She didn't look down, but her arms tightened around Althea. She didn't speak until she had laid her gently back on the mat under the cabana. She knelt, her wet clothes clinging to her, and took Althea's cramped calf in her hands.
"It was my duty," Haven said quietly, but her hands told a different story. They were firm and knowledgeable, kneading the knotted muscle with a practiced pressure that spoke of experience, perhaps from years of managing Althea's high-strung Dominant Omega body. The pain began to recede almost immediately.
"You're so good at this, Haven," Althea murmured, watching her through tear-blurred eyes. The moment was intensely intimate, a silent conversation of past rescues and present care.
"I have had practice," was all Haven said, her focus entirely on the task.
Once the cramp had fully subsided, they packed up in a comfortable, heavy silence and began the short walk back to the resort. The spell was broken the moment they stepped onto the main path.
"Well, well. What do we have here? A pair of drowned rats, or the happy couple reenacting a shipwreck scene?"
Emara Vale Sinclair leaned against a palm tree, looking effortlessly chic in a cream-colored sundress, a mocking smile on her perfectly painted lips.
Althea's guard instantly slammed back into place. "Emara. Enjoying the view? Or just scouting for weaknesses?"
"Oh, I heard about your recent… endeavors yesterday, cousin," Emara purred, her eyes flicking over Althea's swimsuit with disdain before dismissing her entirely. She focused her full, predatory attention on Haven. "That was quite the performance. It's great, really. You're bringing in money again, which is what you should be doing, instead of dragging the Vale name through the tabloids with your… previous antics."
Althea stepped forward, her Dominant Omega energy flaring. "Of course I am. I am the face and the owner of this empire. And what are you again, Emara? A director? A shareholder? Remind me, it's so easy to forget the supporting cast."
Emara's smile didn't reach her cold eyes. She completely ignored Althea, taking a step closer to Haven. "You look stressed, darling. All this… hands-on management must be exhausting. You always did take on too much." Her voice dropped into an intimate, syrupy tone. "You know, my offer still stands. I could take some of the burden off your shoulders. We could discuss it over a proper drink. Somewhere… quiet."
Haven didn't even look at her. She was wringing the seawater from the hem of her blouse with an air of profound boredom. "My schedule is full, Emara. And my burdens are not for negotiation."
A hot, possessive jealousy, sharp and sudden, flared in Althea's chest. She slipped her hand into Haven's, lacing their fingers together. Haven stiffened in surprise but didn't pull away.
Emara's gaze finally flicked back to Althea, a flash of irritation in their depths. She gave a light, tinkling laugh. "So protective. How adorable." She straightened up, her mission of provocation apparently complete. "Well, I'll leave you two to dry off. Don't forget, cousin," she said, her eyes locking with Althea's. "There's a dinner meeting tonight. Shareholders and board members. Haven's grandfather will be there too. It would be in your best interest to attend. Tata!"
With a final, lingering glance at Haven, she sauntered off, leaving a trail of expensive perfume and simmering tension in her wake.
Althea squeezed Haven's hand. "Her grandfather?" she whispered, the name sending a fresh, different kind of chill down her spine.
Haven's hand tightened around hers in response, a silent, grim confirmation. The peaceful interlude was over. The real battle was just beginning.