Queen of Swords: The Banished Gods: Book One (The Banished Gods Series 1)

by L. A. McGinnis

  Loki stopped, turned, braced himself, and maybe even welcomed it.

  A fight was what he needed. Maybe Odin was the person to give it to him. He turned into Odin’s cavernous Great Hall. He hated this fucking place. It reeked of power and arrogance and straight up narcissism. But he kept his voice level. “I take it Mir talked to you?”

  “Yes, Mir told me everything. What were you thinking? Tyr radioed in before you even got back, said the human you found might be the one hunting my streets.” The harsh lines etched into Odin’s face promised vengeance.

  “She might be, at that.”

  The dead silence, which greeted that little statement, told him how deep in he was.

  “And? Why is she not on her knees in front of me, awaiting my judgment? Why is she not anywhere in this building? Out of all of them, I never guessed it would be you who’d go soft on me…traitor.” Odin, aka Father of Everything, shook his head in disgust. Silvery-white hair, worthy of any Viking, was pulled back in a silver crown, and eyes of the same color raked Loki over. His powerful, muscled body was reclined in semi-repose onto his golden throne, his hand dangling carelessly over one knee. “Do we have a problem?”

  “No, we do not have a problem.”

  “And if I told you to end her?” Loki’s mere second of hesitation gave Odin his answer. The corners of his mouth turned upward in a cruel, knowing smile. “There, you see? I think we have a problem after all. I think we have a big problem. Mir said she was beautiful. When’s the last time you had a woman?”

  None of your goddamn business. “About two days ago. I’m good.”

  “Indeed? Tell me about this female. How is it she’s on my streets fighting Grim? How does she even see them? How the hell has she lasted two entire years?”

  Cursing Doc’s big mouth, Loki answered, trying to not to appear as pissed off as he was. “I ran a background on her and her story checked out. Looks like they killed her family two years ago. So she came back here for revenge. It appears she’s…fully human, if you can believe it.”

  “I can’t. How is she still alive? Unless she’s not your average mortal? A halfling, perhaps? A hybrid out of New York, hoping to make the big time?”

  The way the bastard lounged on his fucking throne made him look like he owned the entire world. To make matters worse, this was probably a trap because with Odin, there was always a catch. Except for once, Loki didn’t care. “No, none of those. She’s mortal. Only difference is, she’s tougher and smarter, and she doesn’t believe she has anything to lose. My guess is, her skill set improves every night she goes out. She’s got the marks to show for it, though. Probably not as fast as she should be and…”

  “Please tell me I am not sensing some misplaced admiration here?” Odin sat back and lowered his eyelids until it almost looked like he was asleep. Except he wasn’t. He saw things clearer this way, saw straight through anyone, even another god. Even Loki, who decided against his better judgment, in this situation the truth was the way to go.

  Someday, he swore, he might stop being stupid.

  Today was not that day.

  “Yeah, I do. She’s killed three hundred and fifty Grim. Which is half as one of us in the same time, but damn, that’s impressive. And she’s done it on her own. Don’t know what type of weaponry she’s using, but she’s obviously figured out plain steel won’t cut it, pardon the pun.” As Odin sat still as a statue, he blundered on. “She’s a solo operator, but she’s careful. If she were predictable, they would have found her by now. But they haven’t. She lives in the shittiest part of town, which means if the Grim don’t get her, her fellow man probably will.”

  “Such passion, when I’m unused to hearing anything from you except indifference.” Odin’s knowing smile turned impossibly cruel. “How long has it been since you’ve felt anything at all? Since you burned our world to ash, perhaps?”

  Loki winced at that. To tell the truth, he didn’t remember. For years, he lived to hunt and the satisfaction he got from killing had been his bread and butter. He rubbed his sternum again. Analyzing this new, strange tingling in his chest was…discomfiting. Affection? No, but from the moment he’d touched her, he’d definitely felt…something.

  “I honestly do not know.”

  “I think it’s time you found out. Find out exactly why she’s here, hunting in my city. Figure out how she can see Hel’s demons, when the spell on them specifically renders them invisible to the human eye.” He leaned forward, silver eyes narrowing. “But most of all, figure out why she’s different from any other human on this planet.”

  “Bring me back answers, son.” The look on Odin’s face offered him no alternative but to obey. “Or bring me her head. I don’t care which.”

  “Maybe I need to get my shirt back,” Loki proposed by way of a peace offering.

  “Maybe you do.” Odin leaned back, his face shuttered.

  And with that, the audience was over.

  7

  Morgane was lying in her bed, face down in Loki’s shirt, breathing in his scent.

  He smelled of the mountains, she decided. Of long views and granite cliffs and deep, pine forests heavy with fog. Of somewhere she might like to stay for a very, very long time.

  The local had long since worn off, and her back and shoulder twinged off and on. But whatever magic Mir performed had worked. She felt almost as good as new. Except for this crushing loneliness threatening to consume her. She drew the scent of him in again. Rain. Yeah, if it was raining in the mountains, then that was what he smelled like. She sighed. Too bad she’d never see him again. Too damn bad, she thought, warm and practically comfortable, drifting in this lovely place between waking and sleeping, a faint, bothersome noise whining far off in the distance.

  At first, she figured the annoying sound was part of her dream, at least until the screaming started.

  The claws grating against her steel door were the second, big giveaway it was time to wake up. Rolling out of bed, her brain struggling to catch up, she knew she had seconds to get to her weapons before those serrated claws cut through the steel door. Of course, after the cluster fuck of the previous night, her two favorite long knives were still in the locker at Union Station. But she had backups.

  She only needed a minute to dig them out.

  Pawing through boxes, she heaved gear out of her way, watching with one eye as the steel bent inwards, claw marks pushing through the metal while she dug faster and faster. With no time to throw anything on, it looked like she’d be fighting in her undies. At least they almost matched. The roar of a Harley outside bought her a few precious seconds before the creatures went back to their attack with renewed gusto.

  The sound of shredding metal filled the shoebox, and she laid her palm on the handle of her knife just as the razor tip of a claw tore an opening, followed by an arm, then a set of snapping jaws. Within seconds, the fetid stench of demon breath filled the space.

  Loosing a curse about how they had found her, Morgane spun around, knives in both hands. The first one went down quickly. She lopped the head off as soon as it squeezed far enough through the narrow slit, along with its leading arm. The second one was smarter, taking its good old time. It crept through the fissure, claws cleaving the opening wider, while extending its jaws like a viper’s, so vast she couldn’t reach past those teeth with her short knife in the cramped quarters. She was forced to stay to the side, pushed back, trapped between its head and the wall, it’s eye gyrating an inch away, the long, black teeth snapping and clicking. It couldn’t bite her, but it could hold her in place while it went to work on her torso with those claws. Blindly, Morgane slashed and stabbed, trying to stay outside the thing’s teeth, when suddenly it was…gone.

  One second it was right in front of her. Next? The room was empty, as if the thing had been sucked out through the opening. And she was left alone, looking at the withering head and arm of the first demon. Panting, she crouched with the knife, waiting to slice off the first thing poking through that ho
le.

  The voice she heard was the last one she expected. It sounded...worried. Maybe even hopeful. “Morgane? Are you in there? Are you hurt?”

  She flipped the locks. What was left of the door swung open and there, on her threshold, stood the only man to ever make her feel a goddamn thing. And he’d saved her ass. “Holy shit, Loki. You have awesome timing.” Oh wait, she realized — a second too late — when the blast of cold air hit her, she was standing in front of him in her undies. Thank God they matched. Almost.

  He eyed the hefty door appreciatively. “Steel? Smart. At least it slowed them down.” Loki turned and shut the door, his mouth tightening into a thin line. “This place is well secured. I’m surprised they managed to track you.”

  “Yeah, obviously I’ve been here too long.” Spinning around, she busied herself digging for something to put over her body. Her formerly pristine body. What she really needed to do was cover it all up. Before Mr. Perfection got the full Monty.

  “Morgane?”

  She dug faster. Seriously, she had to do something about her organizational system. It sucked. “Damn it, Morgane. Stop.” While she was grateful he saved her, she did mind he was staring straight at her ruined flesh.

  “Give me a second. I’ve got to find something to…”

  She twisted in surprise at the warm, strong hand grasping her arm, but not as much as the expression on his face when she met him face to face. He looked hungry. Ravenous, actually.

  “I said stop. And I meant stop.” And like that, the world stilled. The moment she stared into those eyes, the most incredible thing occurred. She felt something. Heat bloomed inside her, rose and crackled into this magical thing that people waxed poetic over, licked hot flames up into her spine before burning lower. And lower still until the feeling became an aching grind.

  The click of a key in a lock. The need to feel that lock spring open.

  God, so was this what all the fuss was about?

  Morgane’s knees wobbled, his hand on her arm becoming a lifeline to which she clung. “Loki…I...I...” For the life of her, she couldn’t form a coherent sentence.

  “Please…stop for a second.” Loki held her steady as he slowly brushed the hair away from her face. Held a strand of it and lifted it to his nose. “I could smell you on me, all night long. You were all I thought of. And it made me want more.” He glanced at the bed.

  Following his gaze to where his shirt lay balled up by her pillow, her face went hot. And when he looked back down at her, she swore flamed danced in the depths of those turquoise eyes.

  “Tell me I’m not the only one?”

  The room closed in around them, strewn with blood and weapons and debris. Her eyes flared wide, taking in the whole of him, far too big for this closed space. Wondering what in the hell she was doing, she reached up and traced her thumb in a slow, wet trail across his lips.

  Hunger pounded in his veins. Drove every other thought right out of his mind.

  Human or not, this woman was different, no denying it.

  He’d smelled her the moment he’d pulled up in front of this dump. He had smelled the blood and the Grim, but Morgane had smelled of pure adrenaline. The scent wafting off of her now was desire mixed with need. Two things he was totally on board with.

  Standing here, her fingers feather-light on his lips, practically naked, her body a series of soft mounds and hard ripples marked by the beasts they waged war against? He was as ready for her as he’d ever been for anybody. Besides, when he saw she’d slept curled up with his shirt? Something locked into place within him.

  But then, he hesitated because her eyes told a different story. Those forest green eyes lined with silver, while she stared up at him, vulnerability etched on her face. Confused because she needed this so badly. Guilt because she wanted to give into this. And he knew exactly how she felt. He buried his face in her hair, lips burrowing against her ear. “It’s okay, you know, to let yourself have this. Even with everything in your life, you can’t forget how to feel, Morgane.”

  Her body pressed into his, she paused, hesitating. “Loki, if you think there’s some kind of happily ever after for people like us, I’m afraid that’s not in the cards.”

  “Trust me, I know what life has in store for me. And happily ever after? I don’t think happiness is what either of us are looking for right now.” It was all he could get out before plunging his nose in her glorious fall of hair again, and then tasting her cheek with his tongue, tracing a trail down to her collarbone. She shuddered against him, trembling as he held her firmly, pressing her between the wall and his body. With a soft moan, she wrapped shaking arms around him and pulled him closer as he worked his way leisurely up the other side of her neck.

  Drawing in a slow, trembling breath, she finally looked him in the eyes, and he knew he’d won. “All right. Yes. Don’t stop, please. This… It’s been so damn long…” She didn’t finish her sentence as he moved his hand underneath her and lifted her up against him. Keeping her eyes locked to his, she wrapped her legs around his torso, gently rocking herself against him, her breaths coming faster.

  “Maybe we should get out of here…” She threaded a hand through his hair, never lifting her eyes from his.

  “Yeah, we should…” No denying it, a demon’s head and an arm lay shriveling away on the floor, but it wasn’t like either of them could stop now. When Morgane wrapped her legs tighter around his waist, grinding herself harder against him, something inside him just snapped.

  For her. For him.

  For all the wasted nights and for this shitty, lonely place she called home.

  For the awful reasons that had brought them together.

  He growled as he carried her across the room to the bed, falling to the mattress on top of her, the long, slim column of her neck exposed beneath his mouth. Loki stripped off her bra and slip of panties, her glorious body bared. His hands found every crevice, but his gaze kept returning to her face, her expression soft and wondering, almost reverent.

  He saw then, just how young she was. Her eyes were old, they’d seen far too much, but she was a human, for the gods sake, and willing to open herself up to him. Only for him. For a second, he paused, torn between walking away and not being able to move at all.

  “I don’t…” She caught his face between both hands and held him still, her thumbs rubbing slow, cautious circles on his cheeks, her face shimmering with a mix of wonderment and desire.

  “I don’t do this…ever.” She chuffed out a laugh. “I had to point that out. So you didn’t get the wrong idea.”

  Which meant he should go slow, he told himself. Slow and gentle.

  She tugged him down, her lips a soft brush against his own. And when he pulled away, far enough to watch her face, to know for sure, she breathed her answer. “Don’t you dare stop. I’ve waited forever to feel like this. For someone like you. Don’t make me wait any longer.”

  Her green eyes searched his, and he lowered his mouth to hers, a kiss meant to be every bit as soft as hers. But then she groaned against his mouth, plunging her tongue inside, demanding things of him, things that, by the gods, he meant to deliver. His hand encircled her breast, fit it to his palm before pulling the nipple into his mouth, heard her moan as it went hard and erect, writhing, arching up into his touch, as if she couldn’t get close enough. He held her still beneath him, trembling, as his other hand slid down over her belly, paused at the apex of her thighs, his finger circling slowly while she shuddered.

  “Let me make you feel good, Morgane. Let me do this for you…” She moaned when he moved to her other breast, biting her nipple gently while she writhed up off the bed and buried both of her hands in his hair. His tongue worked its way down her stomach, and she opened for him, spreading to accommodate him, both hands wound firmly in his hair. Hooking both of her legs over his shoulders, Loki held her fast with one hand on her stomach, trapping her against the bed, and ran his fingers up the inside her thigh. The only place where her skin was perfectl
y smooth, unblemished. He skimmed the mound of light blonde curls before he drove a finger inside her and felt proprietary male satisfaction when she cried out at his touch. She smelled divine. Peaches maybe, or plums, but he had to….

  “A taste, Morgane, I have to taste you.”

  Unwrapping her fingers from his hair, she slowly raised her hands up and grasped the headboard, never taking her eyes from his. And smiled. Seductive and inviting.

  Every thought in his head was lost to the roar as he pushed her legs wide and licked straight up through the middle of her. Then she was bucking under his tongue, the pressure of his hand on her the only thing grounding her while he pushed a finger into her, his mouth sucking and pressing, her moans growing louder and louder. Her movements grew wilder, and damn it, he was close to his own release as she went completely taut. A glorious moment of stillness while he watched her go over, her head thrown back, her hands fisting the blankets and her body…her beautiful body frozen in the orgasm he had given her.

  His hand holding her down, Loki gave her time to come back from it, stroking her body, lingering over the scars, especially the long, tattooed one, and wondering for a brief, weak moment what those words meant to her.

  Her husky voice, sounding softer than he’d ever heard it, almost surprised as she murmured, “My God, Loki… What was… I don’t even have words for what that was.” Morgane stretched like a cat under his hands, her body practically humming. “There‘s a problem though… You have on too many clothes. And lock the door.”

  She didn’t take her gaze off him, not as he stood, or pulled the shirt over his head, or kicked his boots off. And man, did that turn him on. A curious smile played on her lips as she urged him, “Pants too, please. You’ve seen enough of me, now it’s my turn.” He shoved the door closed, slid the deadbolt home and padded over to her. She lay in the middle of the torn up bed, her eyes never leaving his. Part of him smiled with serpentine satisfaction at her gasp as he dropped his pants.