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

by Laura Kaye

  Ecstatic pressure pooled low in his belly, gathered, intensified. Her body tightened around his length, one by one severing the ties to his sanity. “I love you, Megan,” he ground out like he couldn’t stop saying it.

  Megan groaned and sucked in a breath, released just enough air to whimper, “I love you” back. And then she screamed his name. Her whole body pulsed with the force of her orgasm. Head wrenched into the pillow, back arched, thighs clenched, her muscles milked him over and over.

  He buried his shout in her neck. His orgasm hit like a tidal wave, tossing him around until he didn’t know which way was up, dragging him down and then right back to the heavens again, stealing his breath until he dangled near the brink of unconsciousness.

  Peace descended on Owen, body and mind. One beat passed, then another.

  The tingling, like standing too near a live electrical current, started in his extremities and worked inward. Body still shuddering, he rolled off Megan and looked at his hands, but couldn’t see the phantom presence making its way up his arms, up his legs. His heart set off at an even wilder gallop. When the preternatural sensation hit his chest, his whole body seized against the mattress. His back arched unnaturally, like someone was pulling him upward by the heart.

  In the far-off distance, he imagined he heard Megan calling for him, yelling his name over and over. His brain conjured the soothing feel of her hands on his face, his chest. He wanted to tell her not to worry for him.

  But then he wasn’t with her anymore. Wasn’t in their bed in the cabin.

  One glance down at the cold white marble below his feet and he knew instantly where he was. He’d walked the halls of Boreas’ primary residence many times, but he was moving through the space like he was in a dream. He felt in it, but not of it.

  “That’s because you’re not really here.”

  Owen pivoted toward Boreas’ deep voice, found him sitting on the deep ledge of a wide window that looked out over the pristine tundra. The white marble, the animal furs, the floor-to-ceiling jeweled mosaic of a compass rose, arrow pointing to the calligraphic ‘N’ at the top… Boreas’ private chamber materialized around him, as if out of a fog. He bowed his head. “My Lord?”

  “I have a proposition for you.”

  Glancing down at his nakedness, he resisted covering himself and instead thumbed over his shoulder. “Now? I was kind of in the middle of something.”

  Still gazing out the window, Boreas chuckled. “Yes, I gathered. Thus our need to talk, now, before the change is finalized.”

  That strange current continued to flow through him, and now adrenaline born of curiosity joined the sensation. “I am, of course, willing to hear anything you have to say.”

  “Congratulations on your son.”

  Owen’s confusion didn’t keep the pleased grin from dominating his face. “Thank you. It is wonderful news.”

  “Indeed. Which is why I think you should consider maintaining some of your powers. Instead of becoming a mortal human, I would like to propose a demotion of sorts. To demigod.”

  His mind raced over the implications of Boreas’ words, began to compile lists of pros and cons. What he mostly saw were the pros—his ability to protect Megan and his son, his ability to teach him, by example. “What about my vulnerability to heat?” he asked. He couldn’t tolerate such weakness ever again.

  Boreas nodded. “Unlike now, as a demigod you would possess the strengths of your human and god natures, while bearing few to none of the weaknesses of either. The trade off is you won’t have the full strength or variety of power you now possess.”

  Owen’s main concern allayed, he nodded. In that very first conversation regarding John’s request for help, Owen had in part been attracted to the idea of finding a way free from the unendingness of immortality, to the idea of finally experiencing firsthand the many joys it seemed humans did on a daily basis. Boreas’ proposal would get him much of what he’d wanted, while also offering other benefits he didn’t know enough to realize he’d need. He frowned. “What’s the catch?”

  “The boy. He will work for me upon majority. After he’s been trained in his powers, of course.”

  A fierce protectiveness shot up Owen’s spine. “You will not speak of taking my son from me before he is even born.” His raised voice echoed around the marble. He would make sure his son never experienced the pain of familial loss like he had.

  Boreas held his hands up. “Fear not. Hear me out. He will work for me within the human realm, as a human. We are losing, Owen. Every year, Zephyros gets stronger and stronger, and the gods of winter lose small increments that in the blink of an eye will add up to catastrophe for the planet we all share. We need more people from our team working on issues of climate change, to stem the current damage, to try to turn it back.”

  Owen’s hackles settled some, but he was still on the defensive, waiting for the next shoe to drop. “And?”

  Boreas smirked. “And I will set up and fund a foundation to bring together the greatest thinkers, policy analysts, and scientists of the day. You will run it. And then you will pass on stewardship of it to your son.”

  Owen scowled, but didn’t mind so much for himself the idea of a useful occupation. And what better for him to do? He knew firsthand the devastating effects of deforestation on the Earth’s atmosphere and polar ecosystems, how much less Arctic sea ice formed every year—soon it was likely no ice would form in the summers at all. “How about this: I’ll run this foundation for you, but first I get a whole year to enjoy my life with my new family. And the child will have the foundation as one occupational choice among many he might choose on the issue of climate change.”

  “Are you negotiating with the Supreme God of Winter?”

  Owen nodded, confident he was on an acceptable path because of the twinkle of humor illuminating the ancient god’s silver eyes. “I am.”

  “Fatherhood agrees with you.”

  “It does.”

  “I can accept these terms.”

  “And what of Megan?” As demigods, they wouldn’t be fully immortal, but his and his son’s aging would be so slow as to extend their lives well beyond the normal range of a human. His stomach clenched at the thought of Megan growing old, dying. No. There must be a way.

  Boreas leaned back against the wide stone molding, crossing his arms and looking totally self-satisfied. “Already taken care of. While a god of any rank, all of your bodily fluids will remain infused with the healing powers of the River Acheron. As long as the two of you are together, the river’s elixir will pass through you to her and bestow upon her the health and longevity you and your son will enjoy as demigods.”

  Owen gasped. Son of a— He’d planned this all along. “Sure of yourself, eh?”

  “No, son. I’m sure of you. Sure you are the kind of man who would do what is in his family’s best interest. And if my causes are helped along the way, why, that is all the better.”

  Hope and excitement to begin this new life infused Owen’s entire being with an incredible levity. He couldn’t see the downsides, though these weren’t decisions he could fully make on his own. “I would like you to give Megan the opportunity to discuss any other details I haven’t thought of with you, later, but otherwise I would be all too pleased to accept your proposal.”

  “Done. Tell Megan hello from Grampa.”

  Before Owen even had the chance to reply, his whole body sucked backward through time and space. He collapsed into the mattress at their cabin. The breath whooshed out of him and he coughed and rolled to his side, his head finding Megan’s lap.

  “Owen, Owen, are you all right?” She stroked his hair and shoulders. “I thought you were having a seizure. Can gods have seizures?”

  “Don’t…worry,” he panted, worked to regain his equilibrium. Part of his struggle was the sensation of trying to see the wor
ld through a new pair of glasses with a radically different prescription. Supernatural power still flowed through Owen’s body, but it hummed where before it had vibrated in its intensity. Then again, the air in the bedroom felt cool against Owen’s body, proving his part-human nature. “I’m better than all right. Now.”

  “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, know
ing 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 Teddy 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.