North of Need (Hearts of the Anemoi, #1) (21 page)

“Are you… did it work?”

Pushing himself up so he could brace on one arm and face her, Owen cupped her jaw in his hand. “It worked. I’m yours. Forever.”

Her eyes danced, the bright blue heaven in a stare. She pressed a kiss against the palm of his hand. “And I’m yours. God, I love you so much.” She grasped his other hand and placed their palms, together, on her bare belly. “Both of you.”

He leaned in for a kiss. Slow and gentle, he communicated with his lips every bit of the love and gratitude and hope flowing through him. “I promise to make a wonderful life for you, for the both of you.”

She nodded. “We’ll do it together. Oh, Owen, it’s so exciting imagining the future now. I can’t wait to meet this little person. I wonder what he’ll look like. What he’ll enjoy. What he’ll want to be when he grows up.”

Owen felt the unusual heat of a blush spread across his cheeks. “Yeah. So, about that…”

EPILOGUE

Almost One Year Later

Megan rolled over in the big bed and reached out a searching hand. When she didn’t find what she was looking for, she begrudgingly opened one eyelid. She was alone. Her ears perked up as they always did now—in constant listening for even the smallest sign of distress from her child, motherhood made her suddenly cognizant of every little noise. But all was quiet.

Her eyes adjusted to the light and scanned over the ceiling above, finally fixing on the new grouping of stars in the corner by the window. The small constellation of the dove had appeared out of nowhere. Owen had been just as surprised as Megan. A good-bye from John, a reassurance he’d found his peace. Because she’d found hers.

Megan luxuriated in a body-awakening stretch, then propped herself up enough to see over her pillows to the alarm clock: 10:30 a.m.

She gasped and whipped her legs out of bed. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept so late. Well, yes she could. She’d spent a lot of mornings lounging in bed with Owen right up until September fifth, when their son, Theodore Eoghan Winters, came screaming into the world. When she’d learned the name Theodore was Greek for “gift of god,” she couldn’t imagine anything better for the baby who had truly been just that. Owen couldn’t have agreed more, and Megan had loved his suggestion of using the ancient spelling for her new husband’s name for Teddy’s middle name.

But, jeez, this wasn’t just any other morning. She shrugged into her robe and hurried out into the cabin’s great room. “Why did you let me sleep so late?”

Owen turned from where he sat on the floor in front of the huge Christmas tree they’d bought and decorated together, bouncing Teddy on his lap and pointing out the colorful lights and ornaments. “Figured sleeping in a little would be a gift in itself,” he said, his voice warm and pleased.

Wasn’t that the truth? Teddy had only started sleeping a six-hour stretch through the night a few weeks before. She knelt down beside them. “Well, it was wonderful. Thank you.” She pressed a lingering kiss to Owen’s mouth. “Merry Christmas, baby.”

His smile was playful and so sexy. “Merry Christmas to you, too.”

“And to you, too, little man. Happy first Christmas.” She kissed the super-fine mass of black hair that already covered her son’s head. He responded instantly to her nearness, squirming in Owen’s grasp and reaching out for her. “Oh, oh, what’s this?” She lifted him and snuggled him into that sweet spot against her chest. He immediately opened his mouth and gummed his fist. “Somebody’s a hungry bugger.”

“I gave him a bottle earlier, but he sucked it down in like two minutes.”

“That’s because somebody inherited Daddy’s appetite. Yes he did,” she said. “How ’bout I feed him, and then we can make some breakfast for us?”

Owen stretched over and kissed her cheek and then his son’s head. “You feed him and I’ll make us breakfast.” He helped Megan off the floor.

She settled into the soft comfort of the leather couch and positioned some pillows to hold Teddy’s big body. Of course, demigods couldn’t be small babies. Oh no. Megan still managed to wrangle favors out of Owen by reminding him of their son’s ten-pound, eight-ounce weight at birth.

Owen asked her questions about what she wanted to eat as she nursed Teddy, who grabbed tight to a finger with one little hand. She laughed and cooed and talked to the baby while he ate, all the time staring into his beautiful mismatched eyes. The only difference between his and Owen’s was that Teddy’s blue eye was brighter, more like hers. Otherwise, the boy appeared a near carbon copy of his father. She often wondered if the striking resemblance was the result of Owen having dominant genes or her decorating that little snowman the night she’d tried to bring Owen back to her, but, really, it didn’t matter. She was glad their son looked like his father, glad they had that connection.

“Here we go,” Owen said. He placed an overflowing tray of toast, scrambled eggs, bacon, yogurt, berries, and bananas on the coffee table.

“Wow. That’s quite a feast. Thank you.”

“Hungry?”

“Starving, actually.” Megan reached for a plate he’d set on the pillow next to her, but couldn’t quite reach without jostling the baby.

“Here, let me help.” Owen grabbed a slice of toast with butter and jelly and held it up to her mouth.

She took a big bite. She looked up and found his eyes blazing, that odd light flickering faintly behind the blue and brown. “What could possibly be turning you on about this situation?”

He popped a berry in his mouth and quirked a playful, cocky grin. “Everything about you turns me on, angel. You know that.” He held the toast out again. “Have another bite.” She did, feeling a blush heat her face even as she leaned forward.

“You totally have a thing for feeding me.”

He tossed more berries between his full lips. “I’m man enough to admit that. I like seeing you healthy and sated, and I like to have a hand in making you that way.”

Good God. What he didn’t do with his heated gazes or godlike body, he could always do with his words. She laughed and Teddy pulled away from her. “All done?” She tossed a cloth over her shoulder and lifted his chunky baby body up to burp. He gave up a few good ones before Owen offered to hold him while she ate.

Seeing him hold his son filled her heart up to the very top. Owen was always so attentive, so affectionate, so helpful with him. The smallness of Teddy’s body against Owen’s broad chest made her husband look like the protector he was. Owen’s big hand spanned their son’s back as he held him gently, assuredly. He was already a great father, and damn if fatherhood wasn’t sexy as hell on him.

By the time Megan finished eating, Owen’s low singing in that ancient language and steady pacing around the room had lulled Teddy to sleep. They nestled him into the travel crib in their bedroom, complete with a flannel snowman crib sheet she’d found online and couldn’t resist.

Owen pulled her into the bathroom and started the water in the shower. They slowly undressed one another, taking advantage of this quiet time alone before the baby was back up again and needing their attention. Megan stared in wonder as Owen stepped under the stream of hot water. Her mind could so easily conjure the image of his hand melting under the heat of the tub faucet. But here he was, warm and safe in her arms.

The deal Owen and Boreas had struck initially left her head spinning—especially the part where she’d share in the longevity of life that both her boys possessed as a result of their preternatural natures. But it didn’t take her long to see the wisdom of Owen keeping some of his powers. In fact, knowing he was stronger, and that her son would be too, helped quell the nagging fear of losing them that sometimes crept up in quiet, unexpected moments. And she had viewed the concessions Boreas had demanded as hardly any sacrifice at all. She supported her new family’s business, the idea of saving the Earth, so strongly she had quit her admissions counselor job at the end of the spring semester. They didn’t need her income anyway—they’d be able to live off Owen’s ancient resources forever if necessary, and her job had never represented a calling. She was thrilled to be going to work with Owen part time when the WinterWatch Environmental Foundation opened its doors in downtown D.C. on March 1. Her mother had even offered to watch Owen while she worked, so she could part from him secure in the knowledge he was in good hands, family hands.

How Megan had worried about her family’s reception of Owen. Not that she didn’t think they’d totally love him—that was never the question. But it had all happened so fast. She hadn’t even been able to eat the day she’d gone to tell them she was engaged. And pregnant. They’d met Owen a few times by that point, and all got on so well, but she’d only known him for six weeks when she’d sprung the news. Her family was equal parts thrilled and hesitant, but in the end her obvious happiness had won them over. They’d married in a small, human-family-and-close-friends ceremony on the last day of winter.

In the days and weeks that followed, several of Owen’s uncles, she supposed, had popped in to introduce themselves. Polite though reserved, Zephyros had found them immediately after the wedding, though he’d seemed uncomfortable around her and hadn’t stayed long. Chrysander, on the other hand, invited himself for a whole weekend and left her feeling she’d known him forever. Using the face of a compass, Owen had long-since explained the Anemoi family tree, with the four cardinal wind gods representing the north, west, south, and east, and the dozen lesser ordinal and interordinal gods. While the father of the Anemoi, a powerful storm god named Aeolus, had sent gifts to the new couple, no one else had appeared. Yet.

Under the hot spray of the shower, Megan and Owen took turns washing each other, the small touches both comforting and stimulating. When they were clean, Owen pulled her body against his. They shared slow, deep, exploring kisses. Their hands skimmed over wet skin, rubbing, stroking. Breathy moans fogged the glass, cocooning them in the small space as they fell apart within each other’s arms.

Afterward, they dressed quickly and quietly, stealing kisses and shushing laughter. Then they settled on the floor beside the festive Christmas tree. Megan had unpacked some of the ornaments from her collection, and together she and Owen had bought some more. The day they’d returned from picking their tree at a lot by the general store, they’d found a box in brown paper on the front steps. Two dozen brilliant cut-glass ornaments filled the inside, each one a dazzling, unique snowflake. Boreas. It was just like him to drop in, quite literally, from time to time. She was always glad when he did.

Unlike the tree from last year, the one that stood before them now belonged to a family fully embracing the celebration of Christmas.

“Here,” Owen said, holding out a gift-wrapped box. He nearly vibrated with excitement. His enthusiasm for all things was one of his dominant personality traits, one she absolutely adored. “You first.”

All grins and ripping hands, Megan removed the paper in no time flat. Thick tissue padded the inside of the rectangular package, and she unfolded it to reveal a beautiful crystal snowman figure. She lifted him out with a gasp. “Oh, Owen, he’s beautiful.” A snow globe with an idyllic mountain village inside filled his stomach—the miniature scene looked strikingly like the collection of buildings at the summit at Wisp. Tiny inset crystals edging the snowman’s top hat, gloves, and coat threw off tiny prisms. “Thank you.”

“I just thought…” He looked up at her from under his hair and shrugged.

She dived over the discarded paper and planted a kiss on his soft lips. “I know. And it’s perfect. Your turn.”

Owen flipped the long thin box around over and over. Shook it. His eyes went wide and he chuckled when the contents offered a muffled rattle.

“Careful! You’ll break it.”

He gaped and froze.

Megan burst out laughing. “Kidding. You’re fine.”

He cocked an eyebrow. The front door eased open and a whirl of icy wind shot in and wrapped around her.

“Hey!” She hugged her arms around her body and pouted, chuckling despite herself. “No fair. That’s freaking cold, Owen!”

Owen’s cocky grin was as infuriating as it was sexy. How was she going to handle them both when Teddy came into his powers, too? Luckily she had more than a decade to prepare for that—Boreas explained his powers wouldn’t begin to manifest until he hit puberty. The front door gently clicked closed.

“You started it,” he said as he made quick work of the wrapping paper. He yanked the two halves of the box apart and the thin rectangular cards exploded out in every direction. They rained down around him and he flinched.

Clapping a hand over her mouth to smother the sound of her own good humor, she mentally high-fived herself—she couldn’t have planned that better if she’d tried.

Owen picked up one of the plastic cards. “Ben and Jerry’s! Aw, man.” He scooped them into a pile. “Thank you, silly girl. How many of them are there?”

“Twenty,” she said, giggling at the enthusiastic flash of his eyes. The first time Owen had ice cream from the Ben and Jerry’s store in Old Town Alexandria, he turned to her with a sternly serious face and told her she’d been holding out on him. There was little room for actual food in their freezer for the number of flavors of Ben and Jerry’s stored there. Seeing his absolute delight as he straightened the stack of cards within his big hands made her giddy and glad she’d gone for the joke gift of five-dollar certificates. “The only catch is you have to share.”

He froze mid-shuffle and arched a skeptical brow. “And why would I want to do that?”

“Because you love me.”

His answering smile lit up his whole face. “I do.” He set the cards aside and rubbed his hands together. “Okay, here’s another one for you.”

Megan bit her bottom lip and tore into the small, flat rectangular package. She recognized the name of the jewelry store right away and gasped. “What did you do?” She eased the fancy blue case open and this time her hand flew to her mouth when she gasped. Nestled on the dark velvet bed inside the jewelry box was a necklace in her favorite color she had absolutely drooled over on their honeymoon. The pink natural conch pearls were among the rarest in the world—which is why she’d resisted Owen’s encouragements to buy the piece even though she adored it. So few of the pearls were harvested each year they cost a small fortune. Four of the variegated pink pearls hung down from a white gold drop necklace. The piece was exquisite. One of a kind. “When did you go back for it? I can’t believe you did this.”