North of Need (Hearts of the Anemoi, #1) (13 page)

Dark eyes blazed. “Anything good?”

“Everything good.” It was true. Loving him was good. She knew it was good. Knew it
could
be good. Great, even.

Owen stared at her a long moment, his eyes brimming with emotion. Then he rolled them, settling himself over her. Lingering kisses rained down over her heart, making it stutter and thrum anew. Words spilled from his lips in that odd language again.

Megan didn’t interrupt his hushed, ardent speech, not because she wasn’t curious to understand, but because the tone of it sounded so much like a prayer. So she remained quiet, laced her fingers through the layered strands of his black hair. Finally, he laid his head on her chest over her heart. She held him and stroked his hair until the soft, shallow breathing against her left breast told her he’d fallen asleep.

Then, she lay there, cradling a god in her arms. Choked up with the emotions she felt but was too afraid to admit.

Chapter Seventeen

A persistent mechanical growl pulled Megan from sleep the next morning. The sound was so foreign, she bolted upright, listened.

The fog lifted from her brain. Mr. Johansson, here to dig her out.

“What’s going on?” came Owen’s groggy voice.

She pecked him on the cheek, slid out from under him. “The man who takes care of my driveway when it snows.” Her skin erupted in goose bumps, the morning air so cool against her nakedness. “Usually he calls…” She tugged on clothes, then dashed to the bathroom, realizing as she did so she hadn’t heard from anybody in days. Odd.

When she returned to the bedroom, Owen was sitting on the edge of the bed, sheet draped across his lap but otherwise bare. She wedged herself between his thighs and threaded her arms around his neck. His kisses tempted her to stay, to push him back onto the mattress, but Mr. Johansson was a talker. He’d be knocking at the door sooner or later if she didn’t come out on her own. “Sorry. Be back in a bit. Go back to sleep if you want.”

“Nah. It’s no problem.”

She ducked in for one last kiss, then left him with a lightness in her step.

Opening the door, she was pleasantly surprised by the milder temperature. Granted, it was still cold, but it wasn’t biting like the day they built the igloo. The morning sun made everything glitter and shine. Winter’s beauty buoyed her spirits even more.

From the steps of the porch, she waved a hand over her head. Mr. Johansson signaled back from his perch on the big yellow tractor, perhaps a hundred yards down the long curved drive from the cabin. Mounds of snow lined both sides where he’d already plowed.

Since it would take him a while to get to the top of the driveway, she went back inside and made twice as much coffee as she normally would, knowing the older man would appreciate a cup. While the coffeemaker chugged and gurgled, Megan flipped open her cell phone to find a black screen. Out of battery. Of course it was. Why hadn’t she thought about it sooner?

Shuffled footsteps caught her attention. “Hey,” Owen said. She took in the sight of him, dressed in a new borrowed outfit—a long-sleeved navy T-shirt and a pair of khakis that had been too long on John. The shirt highlighted the difference in his eyes.

Well, okay, there was the reason she hadn’t been thinking about the real world.

“Hey,” she said. She hooked up her phone charger and plugged it into the phone. After a minute, the cellular provider’s logo flashed across the screen with a musical jingle. While she waited for it to start up, she lifted the cordless receiver on the landline. Nothing. Her cell beeped incoming messages. “Oh, shit.”

“What’s the matter?” Owen wrapped his arms around her, kissed her cheek, peered over her shoulder.

Megan leaned back into his embrace and worked the buttons on her phone. Five text messages. Ten missed calls. Oh, shit. “Missed a bunch of calls.” She turned in his arms, offered him a kiss. “Mind if I take a minute and listen to these messages? I’d better return some.”

“Course not. Go ahead. You hungry?”

Megan nodded as she read the first of the text messages. “Starved,” she said, then she frowned. The texts were from Kate, snarky at first, worried by the end. She pecked out a quick reassurance and apology, then with a grimace started in on the voice mails. Her mom, her dad. Kate, three times. Her parents again. Those were just the ones from Christmas night.

She dialed her parents’ number.

“Oh, thank God,” came her mother’s voice. “Are you okay? Why didn’t you answer your cell phone? The cabin number just gives a busy signal.” The words spilled out in a rush.

“I’m sorry, Mom. I, uh, lost power. And I guess I didn’t realize my cell battery died.” Megan tugged her hand through her hair as she paced back and forth in front of the breakfast bar. Guilt for worrying everyone squeezed her gut.

“So, the power’s back on now?”

“Yeah.” She winced at the half-truth. The power had been back on for two days.

“Oh”—her mother sighed, a sound full of relief—“that’s good. So, everything okay? How are you?”

“I’m fine, Mom. Good, actually.” She glanced up at Owen, his
shoulders taut under the dark shirt as he stretched to pull down some bowls.

“Good?” The hope in her mother’s voice made tears prick at the back of Megan’s eyes.

“Yeah,” she said. Awe colored her voice and for a moment stole her breath. It was true. She
was
good. When was the last time she had said that and meant it?

“Sorry to interrupt,” Owen stage-whispered. “Which do you want?” In one hand, he held a box of Special K, with the other, he shook a box of Lucky Charms at her. He waggled his eyebrows and nodded sideways at the cartoon leprechaun.

She shook her head at his antics. Right there. He was the reason she could say that and mean it. She muffled the receiver with her hand. “Surprise me.”

“Is someone there?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. A friend.”

Her mother paused, and Megan could imagine the expression she made when something didn’t make sense—arched eyebrow, narrowed gaze, lips quirked to one side. “Anyone I know?”

As Owen poured Lucky Charms into their bowls, he popped an occasional colored marshmallow into his mouth. His eyebrows flew up every time as if he were surprised by the flavor. Megan suppressed a chuckle. “No. A new friend.”

“A man.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, mother.” A beep interrupted the call. Then another. Kate, she guessed.

“Megan, what’s going on?” Suppressed excitement undergirded the question.

Butterflies let loose in her stomach. She inhaled a deep breath and prayed her mother wouldn’t freak out. “I, um, met someone?” Also not exactly true, but she wasn’t broaching the whole he’s-an-ancient-god-who-came-to-life-through-my-snowman conversation. Not yet, anyway. Maybe not ever.

A long paused stretched out. “Oh, Megan,” her mother finally croaked.

Megan fought back a kneejerk reaction to downplay the situation, but given her realization last night, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. At a loss for what to say instead, she cleared her throat. “I’m really sorry I worried you. I just wanted to let you know I’m okay up here.”

“I’m so glad.” Her mother’s unsaid words hung heavy on the line. “Okay, dear, well, I’ll see you in a few days, right? You’ll be back for Sunday dinner?”

Shit, Megan hadn’t thought that far ahead. Her gaze flashed to Owen, now sitting on a stool watching her. How did this whole thing with him work? “Um, is it okay if I get back to you?”

“Sure. I love you, Megan.”

“I love you, too,” she said, looking away from Owen. Her heart gripped in her chest.

Overall, the call with her mom left her feeling cautiously hopeful, lighter. She pulled up the text messages that had come in. They were from Kate, as she’d expected. Her best friend’s usual snarkiness did little to hide how badly she’d been worried. Megan fired off another apology.

“Everything all right?” Owen asked as she slid onto her stool.

“Yeah. Everything’s fine now. Thanks for making breakfast.” Colorful marshmallow charms dotted the cereal in her bowl. “Good choice,” she said. The milk was cold, the cereal sweet. Her stomach rumbled as she ate. She’d better hurry, the volume of the plow told her Mr. Johansson would soon be done.

Owen scooped up a mound of cereal. “Box said they were magically delicious.” He cleared his spoon with a big bite.

“Well, they’re definitely delicious, but only you are both magical
and
delicious.” She leaned over and pressed a sloppy kiss to his cheek. When she sat back, his eyes blazed at her. Holding his heated gaze, she put another spoonful of cereal in her mouth, then made a big show of slowly withdrawing the spoon from between her lips.

He groaned. “You know—”

A knock sounded at the door.

“Hold that thought.” Eating one more heaping serving, she jumped off her seat and dashed to get the door. She’d been so engrossed in teasing Owen she hadn’t realized the noise of the tractor had cut out. Cold air swirled in when she opened the door. “Hi, Mr. Johansson. Come on in.”

They shook hands as he entered, then he stomped his boots on the slate entryway. “So good to see ya, Ms. Megan. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas to you, too. How are things out there?”

Bushy salt-and-pepper eyebrows furrowed over kind blue eyes. “This is the durndest snowstorm I’ve seen in years. Down in town there’s only maybe a foot or so, but up here on the mountain things are real bad. County just got the main roads cleared, that’s why it took me a few days to get to ya. Tried to call, but a lot of the lines are down.”

Megan waved off his explanation. “It’s fine. Thanks for coming. I’ve got some fresh-brewed coffee.”

“That would be just fine,” Mr. Johansson said as he took off his parka. He finally noticed Owen. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“No worries. Mr. Johansson, this is my friend, Owen Winters. Owen, Carl Johansson.” Megan stepped up to the coffeepot, then prepared a tall mug of black coffee, just as he liked it.

The men shook hands. Megan blushed a little as the older man’s gaze flicked between them. Thank God they were dressed. She handed the mug across the breakfast bar to him.

“Why, thank ya, Ms. Megan.”

The three of them sat and made small talk about roads and power outages, about how good ski conditions must be up at the resort. When Carl had asked about the igloo out front, he and Owen engaged in a whole discussion of how they’d made it. Megan admired Owen’s easy manner with the older man. He listened with his full attention, asked questions, made jokes that brought Mr. Johansson’s craggy face to life. When they got to the topic of the weather, Mr. Johansson found a kindred spirit in Owen, who could talk the weather like nobody’s business. Naturally.

“Be warmer by this weekend, though,” Mr. Johansson said after a while. “I reckon the warmer temps will help clean up all this mess.”

Owen nodded his head, dropped his gaze. “I imagine you’re right about that.”

Megan frowned. She tried to catch Owen’s eye, but Mr. Johansson prattled on and Owen gave the older man the respect of his attention.

“Spring seems to come earlier and earlier every year. Why, time was it wouldn’t crack forty degrees round these parts ’til late January or early February. They’re calling for fifty-five on Friday, providing them weather people know what they’re talking about. Ya never know,” he said. “Well, I best get back to it.” He slid off his stool, extended a hand to Owen. “Good to meet you, son. Any friend of Ms. Megan’s a friend of mine.”

“Likewise, Mr. Johansson. Thanks for checking in on Megan.”

The three of them chattered their way out onto the porch. Not having bothered with a coat, Megan hugged herself. The old man hoisted himself into the cab of the tractor. He waved, then the engine started up with a rumbling roar. As Carl drove back down her driveway, Owen wrapped himself around her from behind. His embracing body heat bolstered her against the chill.

Megan whirled in his arms, her stomach tossing around her sugary breakfast in an unpleasant way, and voiced the niggling concern the men’s conversation had created. “Is the change in weather going to be a problem for you?”

Chapter Eighteen

Owen gazed at Megan, her concern warming him even as he hesitated to broach this conversation. He felt the weight of his two remaining days, and didn’t really want to devote any part of them to worrying about the passing time. And he certainly didn’t want to worry her. “Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it, okay?” When she opened her mouth to protest, Owen kissed her. He reveled in the cold air that embraced them, drew strength from it. Long, languid kisses later, he pulled back. “I have an idea.”

She pouted. “You’re changing the subject.”

He pressed another kiss to her full lips. “I am. So, do you want to hear my idea?”

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t totally restrain the threatening grin. “Let’s hear it.”

“Let’s go over to Wisp. You’ve never been skiing until you’ve skied with a snow god.” He waggled his eyebrows.

She tried and failed to look unimpressed. “Is that so?”

“Definitely. What do you say?” He willed her to agree, wanting at least one more carefree day with her before the change in weather saddled them with the pressure of her decision.

The smile that broke over her face warmed him from the inside. He would never get enough of seeing her happy. “It’s a really good idea, actually. I’d love to.”

Owen was so pleased he lifted her up and spun her around, earning a lovely giggle from her and a tight embrace as she held on. “Shall we get ready?”

Megan was a flurry of activity after that, dressing, gathering gear, packing some things into the Jeep Grand Cherokee parked in the garage. After the Jeep’s engine had a few minutes to warm up, they piled in and Megan backed out. “Er, this is going to be interesting,” she murmured.

“What’s that?”

“Well, Mr. Johansson usually plows me a turnaround on his way out, but I guess with us talking and all, he forgot.”

“At your service,” he said. He hopped out and walked around her side of the Jeep. Eyes on her, he reached down and palmed the snow’s surface, willed it up and away. Snow whirled in a glittery cloud and scattered itself over the surrounding drifts, opening a rectangular clearing off the far side of the driveway.

Megan gaped at him through her window. Her lips formed his name.

Heart racing, power surging through him, he jogged back around and resumed his seat next to her. “Problem solved.”

“You just…” She glanced from him to the cleared space, and back.

He nodded, reveled in the wonder playing out over her beautiful face.

She sucked in a breath, her eyes focusing somewhere over his shoulder. “You didn’t shovel my sidewalk the other day did you?”

“Er, no.” She was cute when she was exasperated—eyes flashing, cheeks flushing. “Didn’t want to freak you out.” Being able to admit and share this part of himself filled his chest with a warm satisfaction.

She twisted her lips. “How does it work?”

He grasped her hand, folded it in his. “I can manipulate the chemistry of snow and ice, call the clouds, guide the wind. I am part of the elements, and they are part of me.” Megan shivered within his grip. He smoothed circles over the back of her hand with his thumb.

“I…wow,” she said. “You’re amazing, Owen.” She shook her head.

Her praise jolted through him as much as consuming the snow had, built him up. His heart soared. He leaned across the console. With his hand, he pulled her face closer. Trailed kisses from her temple over the apple of her cheek to the corner of her mouth. Gods, he wanted her. Wanted her to want him. “Megan, Megan, Megan,” he sighed, loving the feeling of her lips curving up.

“You start kissing me and we’re not gonna end up using that nifty turnaround you just made.”

Laughter spilled from him, the sensation so enlivening. He fell back into his seat. “Right you are.”

Megan backed the Jeep into the turnaround. Their position put the igloo right in front of them, across the yard. Even though it was a little warmer, the cold continued to maintain it well. Megan glanced at Owen, then followed his gaze. “We need to have another picnic,” she said as she pulled out onto the driveway.

“Yeah.” He loved that she’d echoed his own thoughts.

The trip to Wisp didn’t take long, although partially cleared roads slowed their progress in a few places. Owen enjoyed Megan playing tour guide, pointing out landmarks that meant something to her and sharing stories. He also admired her competence driving on the snowy, icy roads. She never once panicked when the Jeep’s rear fishtailed, her instincts and reactions exactly what they should be. The way her little pink tongue flickered out over her bottom lip when she concentrated was nice, too.

The resort was busy, the new snow having lured winter sports enthusiasts out to take advantage of the fresh powder. Where they parked, they had a good view of a number of slopes and lifts. Megan had her own equipment, which Owen lifted out for her. Holding hands, they crossed the parking lot in the direction of the lodge. The atmosphere was festive—everyone wore bright-colored snow gear, kids declared in loud voices their impatience to get to the tubing runs and the unique mountain coaster, laughter rang out as people planned their days.

Excitement rushed through Owen. He couldn’t have been more pleased Megan agreed to share this with him.

Groups streamed toward the main building, making Owen realize he needed to do something before they got in line to purchase tickets. He tugged Megan over to a secluded spot along a fence, propped her skis against it, and knelt down. Glancing up at her, he debated for a moment, then beckoned her to join him with a sideways nod of his head.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“You’ll see.” With a deep breath, Owen scooped a ball of snow into his palms and closed his eyes. He visualized the private chamber he maintained at Hyperborea. Saw the ornate chest sitting on a long table. Imagined disengaging the locks and removing what he needed. Transformed the ancient coin to make it useful here, now.

Megan gasped.

Owen’s eyelids flew open. The snow was gone. In its place lay a stack of hundred dollar bills. He smiled, pleased it had worked. It wasn’t often he found himself in need of human currency.

“Holy shit,” Megan rasped, eyes bugging at the bills in his hands. She looked all around behind them, over her shoulders, but no one paid them any mind. “You just made money out of snow. Holy shit!”

Owen grinned, folded the bills in half, and tucked them deep into a pocket. “Well, I could hardly ask you to pay when this was my idea. And I have resources I rarely have occasion to use.”

Megan’s eyes danced with excitement and amusement. “Wow.” She shook her head. “Well. All righty, then.”

Needing to kiss her, Owen leaned in and tasted the amazement straight from Megan’s lips. She fell into the kiss, into him, and he held her tight. He pulled them to their feet and collected the gear he’d dropped. “The snow awaits.”

Soon, he bought their tickets and rented his equipment. Together, they suited up. Standing at the bottom of the mountain, they had several slope and lift options in front of them. “What’s your pleasure, madam?”

Megan unfolded the resort map. “I can handle the intermediate slopes. This one’s particularly good,” she said, pointing at the map. “A couple really fun turns.”

Owen nodded. “You lead, I’ll follow.” Gods, how true that was.

Chair Lift 3 took them where they needed to the top of the mountain, and Owen loved how Megan snuggled into the side of his body, their thighs pressed tight together. He gazed down at her. “Beautiful up here,” he murmured as the unnoticed resort glided by beneath them.

“Yeah.” She turned away from his chest and took in the view, then glanced up to see him staring at her. A blush bloomed over her cheeks, discernible even under her ski goggles and beanie. She leaned back against him. He squeezed her in with his arm around her shoulders. At the end of the lift ride, they jumped off together and she guided them to the trail she wanted to try.

“Okay, promise me you won’t cheat.”

“Cheat? What do you mean?”

“None of that snow god voodoo,” she said.

Owen’s whole body shook with amusement.

“I mean it,” Megan said, humor coloring her voice.

He steadied himself using his poles. “No voodoo. Got it.”

“Good. Okay, then. Wait here a second, I want to show you something.”

He nodded. “All right.”

Megan slowly skied away from him. “Stay right there, now,” she called over her shoulder. Just as he started to frown at how far she’d gone, she threw him a mischievous look, dug her poles in, and shoved off. “Catch me if you can!”

Owen gaped. “That little…And she told
me
not to cheat.” He didn’t think on it long, though, because he was after her in a flash. He knew why she made him promise not to use his powers. She was good. Surefooted and centered. Handled the turns with ease and zigzagged on the straightaways to pick up speed. Gods, her competence on the snow had him hardening in his pants.

He whooped out a cheer of pure exhilaration. The cold air whipped at his hair—he wore neither hat nor goggles, not needing them. He filled his lungs with the wind, fed off it. Tightening his stance, he gained on her, but never caught up. Man, was he going to make her pay.

At the bottom, they twisted to a stop, their downhill skis carving into the snow and sending up sprays of powder. Owen glided toward her.

“Sorry, sorry,” she giggled out with a hand over her mouth.

Owen grabbed it and pulled it away, wrapped it around his back. “I told you, never hide your smiles from me.” He kissed her cold lips. “Naughty, naughty girl.”

She nodded. “Yep. Ready to go again?”

He smacked her bottom, though her insulated snow pants kept his bare hand from having the effect he really wanted. “You better believe it.”

The rest of the morning, they sampled the numerous intermediate slopes together, sometimes skiing alongside each other, sometimes racing. All the joy was all because of her.

Having worked up an appetite, they found a quaint café in the mountaintop village and feasted on stacked sandwiches. Owen discovered the wonders of Nutty Buddy ice cream cones and went back for seconds. He almost got a third to keep Megan in such good cheer.

By the time they’d flown down the mountain on inner tubes and taken their third ride on the mountain coaster that was part Alpine Slide and part roller coaster, Owen knew, unequivocally.

He was totally in love with Megan Snow.

Everything about her drew him in. She was fun-loving and adventurous. Athletic and competitive. Breathtakingly beautiful, especially with the pink windburn on her face, her blonde curls tousled around her shoulders, his mark on her cheek. The way she touched him filled him with hope and need. The interest she demonstrated in his life, his most basic thoughts and opinions. She knew him as much as anyone ever had. More. When they were together, her attention and concern made him feel like the center of her universe. He might’ve been a god, but he’d never before felt so important.

Their tickets were good through nine p.m., so they continued playing long past sunset. The mountain took on a mystical quality in the dark—the trees turned black, the snow glowed under the profuse lights. He couldn’t resist pulling her into the shadows to taste her, feel her.

As they kissed and embraced, the urge to share all of himself nearly overwhelmed him. “Come with me,” he said, tugging her hand toward a darkened trail.

“I think that one’s closed, Owen.” She pointed to a sign.

“Yes, I know. Come on.” He led them just far enough down the slope to be hidden from view, then pulled her over to the tree line. Excitement shuddered through him, sent adrenaline pounding into his muscles.

She chuckled, the sound nervous and curious at the same time. “What are we doing?”

Using his poles, he pushed the levers behind his boots and freed himself from his skis. He helped her do the same.

“You won’t need these,” he said, carefully lifting the goggles off her head and removing her bulkiest outerwear. The less he had to deal with, the better. He laid all their shed gear into a hidden pile under a tree. Digging his hand into her hair, he kissed her lips, once, twice, forcing her head back so he could possess her completely.

Megan moaned and grasped onto his biceps.

With all that he was, he willed her to agree, then pulled back from the kiss and bored his gaze into hers. “Do you trust me, Megan?”