North of Need

Instead of an ugly scratch of a scar, he'd given her a beautiful piece of himself. A snowflake. Small and discreet, noticeable if you knew to look, but otherwise really just for her. A gift.

What?" Her breathing stuttered at the thought of tasting the sweet cream off his skin. "Nothing." "No, tell me." He stepped closer. She shook her head. "Why mint and peach?" He quirked a crooked smile. "Mint for fresh breath, peach because it's breakfast. You know, fruit." "I don't think peach ice cream counts as fruit." "What's that right there?" He pointed to the hunks of frozen orange buried in the mounds of ice cream overflowing his bowl. "Peach, but--" "Nuh uh. No but. It's peach. Case closed." He lifted the bowl and took a big bite.

Without the death of winter, there is no rebirth of spring.

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?

Is this a dream?" The words spilled from her mouth. Owen's grip on her hand tightened, that lone dark eye trapped her with its serious intensity. "Waking up across from you is the stuff of which dreams are made. But, no.

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.

And now I'm here for you, Megan. I am enchanted, as surely as if you were the goddess and I the mortal." -Owen

Hey, Megan?" She peeked one lid open. "Hmm?" "Can we have ice cream for breakfast?" Her mouth curved into a grin. She couldn't think of anyone, save maybe Kate, who could draw a smile from her so quickly. But he was just unexpectedly adorable. "Maybe. If you're a good boy." She cringed. Why the hell did she say that? Was she...flirting with him? Restraining a grimace, she chanced a look at him. His dark gaze shifted from playful to scorching. "And what would that entail?" Heat shot through her body, and unfamiliar desire pooled in her belly. Flustered, she kicked off the top cover. "Not asking questions like that, to start. Now go back to sleep. It's too damn early to be awake." She heaved a deep breath to calm her racing heart . "if you say so." Even with his eyes closed, a smile continued to play around his lips.

Her eyes raked over his body, drinking in his tousled black hair, miles of bare skin and cut muscles, the black trail of curls that led down to his pajama bottoms, which had settled low on his hips. Dangerously low. Damn. She couldn't have built a better model if she'd tried. Even in the dim pre-morning light, his physical perfection was obvious. Movement drew her gaze back to his face and she blushed. Dark eyes blazed up at her. Totally busted.

Good with languages," she murmured. With everything she learned about him, he got more and more interesting. Or more mysterious, depending on how you looked at it. "So, good with languages, shovels, and igloos. Anything else?" The smug look he tossed at her was so wicked it shivered right down her spine. Walked right into that, hadn't she. She shook her head and, looking away to hide her blush, moved her cardboard forward one spot. Without a doubt, he would be good at...other stuff. Jesus.

Clothes. Too many clothes." "Mmm. Couldn't agree more." Fingers threaded under her panties at both hips and pulled them off. Megan gasped, drew her legs up and closed out of surprise. She pointed, pretending outrage. "You! Not me, you!" His self-satisfied smirk told her he'd known just what she'd meant. -Owen and Megan

Megan almost pouted at the reappearance of the black T-shirt covering his body, but a chuckle bubbled out at the sight of two bowls, two spoons, and four half gallons of ice cream lined up on the kitchen counter. "What do you want for breakfast?" she deadpanned. His brow furrowed. He looked from her to the ice cream and back. "I thought..." She patted his arm. All solid muscle. "Just teasing. Dig in.

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-ancientgod-who-came-to-life-through-my-snowman conversation. Not yet anyway. Maybe not ever.

...she saw herself. Christmas Eve. The snowman. Sorting the buttons. Disappointed she didn't have a matching pair for the eyes. Deciding it didn't matter-the large navy and chocolate buttons were all she had...

Sans clothing, Owen climbed over her and settled into the middle of the mattress. Like he was a magnet - or her North Star - Megan's body turned to press into the nook along the side of his tall frame. His bareness managed to be soft and hard at the same time - the skin soft and smooth, the muscles hard and ridged. She inhaled deeply, taking his crisp, clean scent into her, and let out a long exhale that relaxed her into him further. Now. Now she could be content to never move again.

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 for John. The shirt highlighted the difference in his eyes. Well, okay, there was the reason she hadn't been thinking about the real world.

Restraining a smile, Owen came around her and laid his hand on the snow's surface. With a silent command, he reworked the internal chemistry of the layers. Megan nearly fell on her face when the saw sliced right through to the ground. She whooped out a cheer. "Woot! I did it! I did it! Take that, snow

Peeking into the living room through the bathroom's connecting door, she called out, "You gonna be okay out there, Owen?" He was lying on his back, long flannel-pajama-clad legs crossed at the ankle and arm up over hi head. Cover off to the side. No shirt. Jeez, his chest was broad and defined, stomach cut with ridges of muscles. He turned a lazy gaze from the fire to where she stood in the doorway. "I'm god. Thank you, for everything." Good, indeed. She'd never look at that couch the same way again. She hugged herself. "Okay, well, give a shout if yuo need anything, or just help yourself. G'night.

Got nothing to say now, huh? Figures." She snorted. Hearing voices was one thing, but talking back to them probably hiked her up to a whole new level of psychosis. Awesome.