"What's wrong?"

"There's a bad storm coming. A winter storm," she said quietly, waiting for the questions.

"Snow?"

She still didn't look at him. "A lot of it, and I think it's going to get colder. I've got a roll of plastic."

Marc smiled, showing sexy white teeth. "I've got a staple gun and duct tape." His unquestioning acceptance brought her eyes up and they stared at each other. Both of them could feel that old connection wanting to grow again. He looked away before she could.

"What smells so good?"

"Omelets. It's all rehydrated or powdered though, so don't expect much." Powdered eggs suck, Marc thought, and Angela went back to cooking with a smile of agreement, not searching for his thoughts, but not blocking them either.

"Can I do anything?" He followed her slowly, mindful about keeping his distance.

"Yes. Teach me some defensive moves today after lunch."

"Sure. We'll start with the basics and move up."

"I really need something I can use now."

He frowned at her insistent response. "I know quick ways, but they're for Marines. Not pretty," he warned.

She shrugged, brushing a stray curl back behind her ear as she turned off the stove. "Pretty doesn't matter. Only results do."

"Remember you said that."

Angela frowned at the second warning, but didn't ask for details or change her mind as she handed him a plate and sat down on the far end of the couch. "I will. Let's eat."

Angela wrote in her journal the whole time, and then bundled up and slipped out the door without a word, leaving Marc to worry as he waved the wolf to follow. Where was the carefree young girl who had insisted they build a clubhouse in the middle of a snow storm? Where was the innocent enchantress he had eased into womanhood and how could he get her back? There had to be a way.

When he stepped out, Marc was surprised by how much gear she already had on the porch. Obviously, she was serious about the storm, and he kept his eyes from lingering on the rounded ass sticking from the rear of her Blazer each time she retrieved something else. He carried her things inside instead.

Coming back for the last load, he noticed the temperature with a frown. It had dropped nearly five degrees in less than two hours. That definitely wasn't normal and it confirmed her warning. Again, not that he'd really doubted. Her gift had always been a part of their lives, one of the reasons his mother had been so against him spending time with her, but it didn't bother him anymore now, than it had then. It was useful, and he had little to hide. Marc had often wondered what it would be like to see and feel everything the way she did, but he didn't envy her abilities because he knew the terrible price she paid for them.




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