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

by Laura Kaye

  When at last her orgasm calmed, she shuddered and stilled beneath him. She cupped his face in her hands—a sweet, warm gesture he’d come to adore—and looked at him with the most hope-inducing affection. “That was…there’s not even a word.”

  “Heaven on earth,” he breathed. Even better. He’d never come close to feeling this kind of warmth, fulfillment, where he was from.

  “Heaven on earth.” She brushed her fingers over his lips. Then she frowned and chewed her bottom lip. She clenched her internal muscles around his length, still hard inside her.

  He sucked a breath in through his teeth.

  Megan’s eyes went wide. “Are you…I mean, will you…” A blush bloomed on top of the flush that already colored her cheeks.

  Owen thrust gently forward, watching her.

  “Jesus,” she breathed. She hesitated, then asked, “Could you…come again?”

  He dropped a kiss to her forehead, already setting a rhythm within her. “I am a god, after all.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Owen was going to kill her. And she was going to love every minute of it.

  The gray light of pre-dawn filtered through the curtained windows before they’d finally had their fill of each other. They’d only surfaced from the bed to get some dinner—if heaping bowls of ice cream counted—around midnight. Now, Megan wasn’t sure she actually had any bones inside her body. Every joint felt loose and fluid, every muscle like Jell-O. She’d never been so tired, or sated, in her whole life.

  Owen had proven himself such an attentive lover. Studying her every reaction, repeating those things that elicited her greatest pleasure. Talk about stamina. He could get hard again within mere minutes of coming. And, oh God, when he came. She’d never seen a more sexy image than his face at orgasm, strained with such open, honest pleasure. Not to mention the erotic soundtrack of his muttered encouragements and unrestrained groans.

  Her body started responding to her thoughts. No, no. She had to sleep.

  His hand squeezed her bare breast and he snuggled in closer behind her. He kissed her hair. “I can smell where your thoughts are heading,” he murmured against her ear in an amused, tired voice. “Go to sleep. You need rest before I have you again.”

  Stupid, all-knowing god.

  His low chuckles tickled her neck. “Sleep, angel.”

  Surrounded by his warmth, bathed in his scent, she finally drifted off.

  When she woke, the room was dark, cold. She gasped, whirled over. Empty.

  Oh no! She jerked to a seated position. Tears pricked behind her eyes. It was a dream. Owen. Oh no, no.

  “Angel?” A dark form pushed through the bedroom door, perched on the edge of the bed.

  “Owen.” She launched herself at him, heart thundering in her chest. She patted her hands over him. Broad, bare chest. Muscled arms. That clean, woodsy scent that was all Owen. He was real.

  “What’s wrong?” His hand smoothed over her curls, brushed them back from her face.

  “Couldn’t find you,” she whispered, afraid her voice would crack if she attempted a normal volume. He was here. Jesus. The last time she’d felt that kind of panic… No. She squashed that thought and buried her face against his chest.

  “I’m sorry. I’m here. Right here.” He threaded his hands under her arms and pulled her all the way onto his lap. “I was making dinner. Hungry?”

  Megan swallowed the last of her panic. She nodded. “What time is it?”

  “After seven.”

  “Oh my God, I can’t believe I slept so long.” And not a single dream, or nightmare. Now that her anxiety had passed, she could feel the benefit of all those hours of productive sleep. She stretched within Owen’s embrace. God, she felt so alive.

  Sore, but even that was proof of life, wasn’t it?

  “I think I wore you out.” Even in the dark, his good humor shined through.

  She slapped his chest. “And, I didn’t wear you out, too?”

  He kissed her hair, rubbed soothing circles on her back. “I only woke an hour before you.”

  Megan felt pleased to hear she’d affected him too. “Good.” Her stomach growled.

  “Ah, now, back to my question. Hungry?”

  She nodded and kissed over his heart. “Ravenous.”

  He helped her stand. Laced his hands behind her neck, his thumbs caressing her jaw. The gesture made her feel so cared for. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  She turned her head and kissed his palm. “I am now. I’ll be right out.”

  “Okay.”

  Megan padded naked to the bathroom. She shivered and hugged herself—the temperature had dropped since she’d reset the thermostat. Her skin yearned for the refreshment of a warm shower, but she didn’t want to keep Owen waiting, thought maybe she’d lure him in with her, after. She freshened up, then took the birth control pill she’d forgotten to take last night. Guess it was lucky she still took the pills after all. She and John weren’t ready to start a family before he’d died. They’d wanted to save up more money. Buy a house first. Wait ’til John made partner at the law firm. They thought they had time. It was stupid, really, that she’d never stopped taking them. A total waste of money. When he died, she continued taking them out of habit, at first. Then, because not taking them would’ve been yet another admission he was gone.

  Her mind returned to her panic upon waking and finding Owen gone. She frowned at her own reflection. The shock of John’s death, his sudden absence from her life, had impressed a deep scar upon her psyche. A scar Owen’s otherworldly origins clearly picked at. Would she ever be able to trust him not to abandon her? Not to leave? What did she have that would hold a god to her? And if she couldn’t find her way to trusting, could she really give him her heart? Could she take that risk again?

  The knock at the door made her jump. “You okay in there?”

  She whipped her pajamas and a robe off the hook. “Yeah.” When she’d dressed, she opened the door to the great room. “Sorry.”

  “No need to apologize. I was just checking on you.”

  “Thanks.” She took his hand. “So, what’d you make me?”

  He pulled her over to the rustic table that sat under a window by the kitchen. Two big bowls of salad and a pepperoni pizza covered the table.

  Her stomach clenched in anticipation. The pizza smelled wonderful. The hunger that had built during hours of sex nearly convinced her she could eat the whole pie. “Oh, it looks so good. Thank you.” She pushed up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

  “Your nose is cold. Are you warm enough?”

  Her flannel PJs and soft fleece robe helped, but it was cold in here. He needed it to be cold, though. “I’m okay.”

  Owen frowned. Grabbed a blanket off the back of the couch. “I’ll not have you uncomfortable for me.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  He draped the blanket around her shoulders like a cape. “Well, I do. Now”—he pulled a chair out for her—“the pizza might be a little cool. I didn’t want to wake you.”

  She sat. “Pizza’s better cold anyway.”

  He beamed and joined her at the table. They ate their salads over small talk. She answered all his questions about her life in Arlington. These days, there wasn’t much to tell. She lived alone in the apartment she’d shared with John, worked in the city as an Admissions Counselor for American University, hung out with her best friend Kate, and often had Sunday dinner at her parents’ house in Fairfax. Dull as it was to her, Owen hung on every detail and asked question after question.

  “What is your life like?” she asked.

  Owen pushed his plate away, having finished his whole salad and four slices of pizza. He sat back in his chair. “I’ve spent much of my existence as a force of nature, and very little as a corporeal being. I didn’t mind, m
ostly. Though the last few days made it clear I simply didn’t know what I was missing.”

  Megan gave a small smile, warmed by his last words but aware of the loneliness that resonated from what came before. “How long has your ‘existence’ been?”

  “Eons? I don’t know. Time has less meaning where I’m from. We don’t account for it the way you do.”

  “Eons. Like, hundreds of years? Thousands?” The thought was nearly dizzying.

  He simply nodded. “It never meant anything to me. Until now.”

  The words filled her chest. Still, she wanted more. “But, when you were corporeal, I mean, did you hang out with other gods, the other Anemoi? Did you have a house, or a place where you lived? The other day you said you had a family you lived with when you were young.”

  “I was originally from what is now Northern Ireland, but my parents died before I was old enough to know them, so I lived with Boreas, the Supreme God of Winter. I would have ended up with him anyway, when I was older, as he calls the most gifted children of the lesser northern deities into his service, develops their powers, and teaches them how to use them in the service of Winter. His main citadel is in the Kingdom of Hyperborea, beyond the North Wind, in the Realm of Gods, though he maintains residences all throughout the world’s colder climes. I lived where he lived, most of the time, at least when I was not elemental. Boreas became like a father, included me in his family, trained me in my godhood.”

  Megan tried to picture the existence he described. Failed. Then another thought came to mind. “And, all that time, were you…well, alone?”

  He shifted in his seat. Rolled his shoulders. Unease niggled in Megan’s stomach, unsettled the big dinner she’d just enjoyed. “There was one woman.”

  “Another god?” She swallowed.

  “A goddess.”

  “A goddess. Right.” An ugly feeling crawled down her spine. A freaking goddess.

  “Her name is Chione. She is a goddess of snow, and Boreas’ daughter. We grew up together.” Owen reached across the table and grasped Megan’s hand. “Be settled. It has been over between us for a long, long time.”

  She swallowed, nodded. “Why? What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.”

  “I don’t.” He tugged a hand through his hair. “She left me for another. Just months before our godhoods were to be joined.”

  Megan sucked in a breath and wrapped both hands around his on the table. “I’m sorry.” How could anyone treat him so carelessly? The jealousy she’d felt a moment ago grew into outraged dislike of this Chione person, goddess, whatever. But then, now Owen was here, with her.

  “I’m not. It brought me to you.” Owen’s eyes flashed, that magical light flaring behind them. How many times had she seen that effect last night? Now it made her stomach quiver.

  “So, when that happened, you…left?”

  He nodded. “I would not stay to watch her be joined with another. It was awkward enough watching Boreas try to balance supporting his daughter and tiptoeing around me. So I removed myself from the equation. It was Boreas who called for my return upon John’s plea.”

  “Why?”

  Owen rubbed his fingers over his mouth. “He said if there was a chance for happiness, he wanted me to be the one to have it, in recompense…”

  Megan’s breathing hitched. She launched herself from her chair and knelt next to his. “I can’t believe that happened to you. I’m sorry.” Her throat tightened. Owen needed happiness, too. She never would’ve imagined they could have that in common. How long had he exiled himself from the company of the other gods? She hugged him and pressed her face into his bare chest. Thoughts of him lonely and alone squeezed her heart.

  “Your compassion warms me, Megan Snow.”

  She remembered how he’d held her when she broke down after admitting her guilt about John’s death. “You do the same for me.”

  “Come now.” He helped her stand. Then he kissed her, once, twice. Lingering kisses full of thanks and quiet need. “I’ll clean this up.”

  “I’ll do it. You cooked.”

  “Let’s do it together.”

  “Yeah.”

  When they were done, Owen tugged her into a warm embrace. “I would have you again.” He pressed his growing erection against her belly. “But I know you are sore. I see it in the way you move.”

  Megan’s cheeks heated. “Just a little. I’m not complaining.” She really wasn’t. The pleasure he’d given her over and over had far outstripped any discomfort she’d had.

  “I’m glad,” Owen said. “Why don’t I run a bath? Would that soothe you?”

  The tub at the cabin was heaven, extra long and with a sculpted back perfect for resting against. Ooh, taking a bath with him would be wonderful. “Yes, that sounds great.”

  He kissed her again. “Okay.”

  They made their way into the bathroom together, touching, kissing. While Owen got the water started, she brushed her teeth.

  “See if this is the right temperature for you,” he said.

  Megan reached her hand into the warm stream under the faucet. “Just about perfect.” She inched the nozzle to make the water a bit hotter. When the tub was halfway full, she shed her robe and stepped in.

  Behind her, Owen groaned.

  She wiggled her bare bottom at him before sinking down into the steaming water. When she looked up, his eyes flared again. She smiled. “Well, come on.”

  He frowned, winced.

  “You’re going to join me, aren’t you?”

  He knelt down next to the tub and rested his arms on the edge. “I can’t.”

  She scooted closer, the water carrying her weight to where he was. “Why?” Then it hit her. “It’s too warm for you.”

  He nodded. “Yes, for now. It’s cold showers for me.” He winked.

  His attempt to be playful touched her, but didn’t alleviate her concerns. “What would happen if you got in?”

  “Really want to know?”

  “Yes.”

  Owen reached out toward the warm stream still flooding into the tub from the faucet. Megan’s heart took off at a gallop, fear for him prickled her scalp. He stuck the four fingers of his right hand into the water.

  They disappeared. Simply melted into the water.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “No!” Megan moaned. She wrenched his wrist back from the flow. “Oh my God.” Her mouth dropped open as, before her eyes, his fingers reappeared. Filmy at first, then solidified. She grabbed his miraculously restored hand and hugged it to her chest. “Don’t you ever, ever do that again!”

  With his other hand, Owen stroked her cheek. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “What if…damn it, Owen. What if you hadn’t come back?”

  “I did.”

  “Yeah, but what if you couldn’t. Oh my God! How did you get the pizza into and out of the oven?”

  He blushed. He actually frickin’ blushed. “Uh, well—”

  “Did this same thing happen then, too?”

  He twisted his lips, looked up at her through his hair. “I am strong, Megan. I can weather short exposures to heat.”

  She gripped his hand harder. Needed to know he was okay. Solid. She shook her head, refusing to cry again. Her tear ducts had gotten enough of a workout these past few days. But wasn’t this exactly what scared her? That something bad would happen to him while he was helping her?

  “Wait. You said ‘for now.’ You had to take cold showers, for now. What does that mean?” Her stomach clenched.

  He laid his head on his arms, his expression earnest but guarded. “If you decide to choose me, if you could love me, I’ll be freed from the limitations of my current form.”

  She knew he’d say that, on some level she knew everything hinged o
n her loving him.

  It seemed something of a circular problem, though. She was afraid to love him, in case he’d disappear. Yet, keeping him here seemed to depend on her loving him. Trying to piece together that puzzle would take more brainpower than she had at the moment.

  “Does that mean you’ll become human? If…” The rest of the sentence stuck in her throat.

  “Yes, that’s exactly what it means.”

  “Oh, Owen, I do care for you, but I—”

  Fingers pressed against her lips, quieted her apology. “I understand. It’s been very little time. I do not mean to pressure you. Now, relax, settle back. Enjoy your bath. I’ll keep you company, if that’s okay?”

  “Of course it’s okay. More than okay.” She kissed his fingers, one small peck on the pad of each finger, then released him and floated back through the now-deeper water. Reclining against the carved back of the tub, Megan blew out a deep breath in an effort to release pent-up stress.

  Sometimes they spoke softly, sharing stories about their lives, asking questions to get to know the other better. Sometimes they sat in comfortable silence. Either way, Owen was such wonderful company. How Megan had missed that. And now, at long last, she’d found it again. Warm, pleasant pressure filled her chest.

  After a while, the water cooled and Megan’s skin pruned. She pulled the plug with her toes, earning one of his playful grins.

  “Hand me a towel?”

  He rose, grabbed a thick length of chocolate brown terry cloth. “Must I?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yes. It’s chilly when I’m all wet.”

  He waggled his eyebrows. “I could warm you.”

  “I’m sure you could. But first, towel.” He handed it over with a big show of reluctance. She yanked it from his hands, adoring the way he made even the simplest things so much fun.

  She wrapped the towel around her hair, then sweet-talked him into a second one for her body. He held her hand as she stepped out over the tall edge.

  Pouting, he stuck a finger between her cleavage and tugged at the terry, peeking down into the gap. She hugged him.