“I don’t know.” Helplessness was strung through the words.
“Ah. I see.” Fenrir considered him with such intensity, Loki blinked.
His son. Still a surprise every time he saw him. Fenrir had been a wild boy. Footraces in the palace, fighting in the streets of the city, prowling the royal woods in his wolf form, learning to shift, learning to become the creature he was meant to be. Was still learning. If Asgard hadn’t fallen, if they’d remained together as father and son, instead of growing so far apart, what would Fen be like?
Unbidden, Loki’s gaze drifted back over to the chains bolted into the stone. A waste of time to think about what could have been. To wonder if the past could be changed. Even if he wished it so.
“Ah, indeed. I need to...” Loki stumbled. “I need to talk to someone about this. I don’t know what to do.” Except he did know. He had to hide Morgane. Somewhere Odin wouldn’t find her. Somewhere Hel wouldn’t find her. Both were impossible.
“You came to me?” Fen’s eyes narrowed. “I’m flattered. I think.”
Loki had been a good father. Once.
Just as Odin had been a good king. Once.
Loki squared his shoulders, bracing himself, feeling he was on the verge of plummeting off some invisible cliff. “When Morgane’s mother stayed behind to give us those extra seconds today, things shifted. In here.” He rubbed his chest. “I’m different now. In ways I haven’t felt in millennia.”
Fenrir studied him intently as Loki continued to wonder out loud. “Do you remember who we were, Fen, back on Asgard? Do you remember what it was like, the kind of men we were?”
“No,” Fenrir answered simply.
“The mother… She could have stayed with us, she might have made it,” Loki mused.
“Would she?” Fenrir shook his head. “I’m not sure we would have. That time, those precious few seconds were gold. And let me remind you, she didn’t do it for you, or me, or Balder. Blood bonds run deep, Father. She did it for Ava, for Morgane.”
“That she did,” he agreed, watching Fen intently.
“What are you really asking me, father?”
Loki swallowed.
Every path he’d taken, every attempt at dodging Fate, at evading what was foretold. What if every careful, evasive move had placed him exactly where he’d meant to end up? The destroyer of Asgard, the annihilator of his race, where every road led him to where he stood, his blood-drenched sword in one hand, the head of the serpent in the other.
He’d thought to save them all. Instead, he’d doomed them, his son included, to this endless fate on Earth. Where they remained today. But what if Midgard was where they were meant to end up all along? Why did he feel like they were being driven toward something now, instead of away?
“Are you happy, Fen?” He stared at his child, who kept his face carefully blank.
“Happy?”
“Yeah, you know, remember the feeling? I’m not exactly sure when I felt it last, but I damn sure felt something today when Morgane threw that dagger at Hel and it went right through her. I felt happy. I think.”
Fenrir’s mouth quirked in a smile. “You don’t know?”
“Would you?”
Fen paused. “Maybe not. It has been a long time.”
Right then and there Loki knew exactly what he wanted. And it was simple. “I want to live,” Loki confided quietly. “After all this time, I want a fucking life. I’m tired of fighting a war that never ends. Tired of wondering if there is anything more. Tired of constantly watching my back.” And Fen’s back, though he would never know it. Watching his son from afar for so long made his heart hurt. That had to change too.
“What do you need from me?” Fen blurted, his blue stare meeting his father’s. “Because I’m sick of just existing. I live for the full moons, for just that one night of escape. It’s the only way I ever get free. The rest of the time… I’m a prisoner in this body.”
Loki was trembling with something he couldn’t put his finger on as he answered, “I don’t know yet. But when I figure it out, I’ll let you know.” He stood, feeling exhaustion threaten to drag him back down.
Pausing before he left, Loki didn’t turn as he mused, “From the moment I saw her, I knew she was going to change my life. And even then, I picked her up and I brought her home. And now that she’s here, I finally remember.”
“Remember what?” The question was a cautious one.
“What I was like.” The truth washed through him like a benediction of sorts. As if the words were healing him. “Before everything. Before…”
All those years ago on Asgard when I was still a good father, would I have died for you, son?
Loki spun to look at Fen, a roaring storm brewing beneath his skin as realization hit him. Nothing had changed. Nothing had ever really changed.
Unfurling his enormous body with a lazy, unhurried grace, Fen asked, “Before what?” Prowling closer, Fen cocked his head with a movement that was purely animal, but Loki didn’t notice. Because at the moment, he didn’t see his son.
No, the image frozen in his mind was a slender, outstretched figure. A mother, a mortal. A weak, helpless human, throwing herself between them and a tidal wave of monsters. To buy them only a few seconds. She had made that decision, she had made the sacrifice. The question was, did he have the courage to do the same?
And Loki wasn’t sure. He hoped he would have.
“Perhaps we’ve fallen out of practice, Fen,” Loki offered, softly. “That’s all. We changed when we came to this world, but we can change again. Nothing is permanent. Or at least, it doesn’t have to be.”
“And what about Morgane? If Odin figures out how you feel about her…”
Ice formed in Loki’s veins at the thought. And yet, the battle he had been fighting for days within himself was finally put to rest. A battle because loving Morgane placed her in grave danger, and put both of them in dangerous territory because…
“Odin would kill her if he knew.”
“I realize that. If he ever found out. Which is why Odin is not going to find out.”
Fen stopped, not five feet away, yet made no move to come closer.
When Loki spoke, he knew the truth then. Realized it, down to his very core, his words coming out hoarse, almost guttural, as the emotion washed through him. “I’d have done the same, Fen. For you. If it came to it.”
Fen’s eyes flared wide.
“It’s a parent’s prerogative, you see,” Loki’s voice grew very, very soft as he stared at his son, “to ensure their children remain safe. We don’t have a choice, I suppose.
“That’s what love is all about.”
23
As the door closed behind him with a snick, the weight dogging him for days slid off Loki’s shoulders. A storm had rolled in earlier, one of Chicago’s early spring squalls, roaring in with lightning and thunder before dwindling down to a thin drizzle. By the time he slipped back into bed, the rain beat a steady cadence against the windows, drops slithering like snakes down the glass.
He ran a gentle hand over Morgane’s body, feeling the beautiful, vibrant life pulsing there.
Why was his daughter so obsessed with this mortal?
She turned into him, tucking herself tightly against him before opening her eyes. “Hey, you. Did you just get home?”
Home. Such quiet joy in those words. Such leaping delight in his heart.
Dipping his head closer, he found her lips, pushed his tongue between them as she opened for him, flicking her tongue against his, running his hand over her curves, her hand tracing along his arm before resting on his cheek.
“I was having terrible dreams.”
His smile faded, even as he kissed her harder. Cupped her breast and squeezed. She surged forward into his touch. “What can I do to help get rid of them?”
Her lazy, inviting smile was all the encouragement he needed. She huffed out a low laugh, while he slipped off her shirt, followed by his own clothes. Skin to skin, he
ran a finger down her neck, between her breasts, over her stomach, and his mouth followed, his tongue tasting salt, soap, her.
Pressing her legs apart, he inhaled the scent of her, dewy and smoky and slightly sweet. His first taste was delicious. His second, a long, hard lick right up the center of her, set off a moan that had his cock jumping. Bracing a hand against her stomach, he licked and sucked in long, sweeping strokes, which had her crying out so loud he was thankful they had this floor to themselves. Pushing a finger in, he paused, raising his head to watch her face. And then clamped his mouth around her clit and sucked. Hard.
“Jesus, Loki.” Morgane bowed up off the bed and went stiff, the climax ripping through her, while Loki pushed himself into her, tight, so damn tight while she clenched around him. Clenched so tight, he willed himself to keep going, keep moving, keep her edgy pleasure going. And he did, plunging in and out, pounding against her until she went still and taut, her teeth closing gently on the cord on his neck, her body finally going lax as she looped her arms around his neck.
“Your turn,” she rasped, biting down on his ear, and his balls tightened and he exploded, emptied himself into her.
For hours, it seemed, he lay there, running his hands over her in long, lazy circles until she finally slept again. She pulled herself close. Sighed. Went limp. Loki took his time searching her quiet, sleeping face, trying to find the one thing that made her so special. The pale oval of her face, the curve of her lips, the curls plastered in dark, damp ringlets against her brow. He wished he could see her eyes, but her lashes formed crescents against her cheekbones. His hand drifted over her breast, rested there, felt the surge of each heartbeat, strong and even.
What did Hel want from her? What did this mortal have that no one else had?
All her scars. All her pain. And still, she’d returned here and battled the Grim, night after night. As bravely as any Valkyrie or War Goddess from his Realm. Killed them just as he did. For much the same reasons and with much of the same hatred. Tracing a careful finger along the tattoo, she shifted closer while he marveled at what she’d done. She’d kept her word. She had met Hel in the Underworld. Faced her down and brought back her sister. A promise made, a promise kept.
Forget thinking he was in love. He was in love with this woman.
Odin will kill her.
Fen’s words rattled in his brain as the world yawned around the two of them in terrible silence. He would find a way to fix what the world had done to her. He would find a way to make this right.
For Morgane.
He’d rescue her mother from the Underworld as well, and then spend the rest of his life protecting what was left of her family, if it was the last thing he did. He would piece her life back together because they had torn it apart.
And because he loved her.
24
Rolling over the next morning, Morgane found herself alone. She’d slept for hours. The spot next to her was still warm, the sun casting its first radiant bars of light across the room, the day before her ripe with possibilities.
That was the first few seconds after she opened her eyes.
The next few drove home the truth. Her mother was gone. Her sister was back, with something vile and insidious churning inside her. Last night she, Loki, and Balder had covered a lot of ground.
All except for this one thing.
What was wrong with Ava? What was inside of her? Would she ever be all right? Struck by the fact Ava had been left alone, in a room by herself for, Morgane checked the clock, at least ten hours, she scrambled out of bed. The urge to see her sister was overwhelming. If Ava was forfeited to the Underworld, Morgane was determined she wasn’t about to let her sister go without a fight.
Rushing out, she flung a huge robe over Loki’s shirt and bolted for the door, taking the steps two at a time up to Ava’s room, not bothering to knock before throwing the door wide.
Sweeping into the room, she stopped dead in her tracks, transfixed by the vision of her sister outstretched in front of dawn’s golden glow, a sea of darkness engulfing her, her body barely an indistinct stain against the light. Morgane’s mouth dried out. She could feel its alien presence all around them, whatever it was, as blood pounded in her ears. The darkness hung in thin tendrils of shadow all around her sister, suspended in wisps against the sunlight, questing through the air, as if searching for something.
The door banged shut behind her with a boom, shaking the floor, sending the window behind Ava quivering. The blackness sucked back into her, leaving only Ava, a thin, elegant sliver, outlined against the rising sun. Her sister turned and smiled, something truly wicked dancing in her eyes, while Morgane’s heart thundered in her chest.
She approached her sister as if she were a feral lion. “Ava? What are you doing?”
“Watching the sunrise. As requested, sister.” Ava’s eyes were holes punched into a pale face, her hair matted around her head, as if she’d tossed and turned all night. Or not slept at all.
“I mean before I came in. What were you doing?”
“I was thinking I’d never see this again. The sun. How wide open this world is. She told me enough times I’d never see it, and I guess I believed her after a while.” There was a cool liquidy darkness lining her voice, which Morgane didn’t remember being there before.
Her feet seemed rooted to the spot, but she forced herself to take another step forward, the robe dragging on the ground behind her.
“There’s something inside of me, you know. And I don’t know what,” Ava offered, matter-of-factly.
“I know, that’s what I came to talk to you about.”
“I’ve felt it ever since I got back. A new place inside of me, with a pushy, churning sort of power. It wanted to escape. So I let it out.” Her lips curved upwards. “Only a little. So it could see the sun too.”
Holy shit.
Ava’s face was deathly pale, her eyes dark, the shadows beneath them purple bruises against her snow-white skin. “Okay,” Morgane said, balling her hands to keep them from shaking. “Okay. This is what we’re going to do. You’re going to watch the sun. I’m getting you breakfast. Then you’re going right back to bed. You need sleep.”
“I can’t sleep. I tried all night but couldn’t. It talks to me, you see.” An empty, hollow smile bloomed on Ava’s lips. “The darkness. It wants to know about this world we’ve come to.”
Morgane ignored that. She had to because if whatever was in Ava, talked? If it talked, if it wanted out and wanted to see the sun…then…
Morgane didn’t want to think about it. She didn’t want to think about this changed creature in front of her, with her sister’s penetrating eyes and carved out body and foreign, otherworldly presence. “I’m getting you food. You will eat and then you will sleep. I’ll figure this out, and everything is going to be okay. Do you understand?”
“I understand,” Ava said simply. “I would like some orange juice.” She hesitated, her voice softer now. “And something sweet. A donut, maybe, or candy if they have any?”
Shaking, Morgane out pushed through the door and closed it, made it three or four steps before she put her back to the wall and began to sob. What was wrong with Ava? What in the fuck had Hel done to her family? It seemed as though she was intent on wiping them out, one by one, while Morgane watched. After scrubbing her face dry, she crept down to the empty kitchen, snagged strawberries, grapes, a bowl of healthy looking granola and yogurt, loaded it onto a tray, and headed back upstairs.
Nobody could know about this. Nobody. If they discovered that whatever was inside Ava was capable of getting out? The gods were skittish enough about having a human in here, but a human infected with some black, evil-feeling presence that leached out? It would be over.
The way Morgane saw it, there would only be two options. Send Ava back to the Underworld or kill her. Okay, that was actually the same thing. Two birds, one stone.
Pulling herself together, she nudged the door open with her hip, swung the tray around
, and balanced it on one hand. Water stopped running in the other room, and Ava walked out, wrapping her hair in a towel.
“I don’t have anything to wear. Whatever this was”—she fingered the ruined clothing she had come back in—“isn’t even worth putting back on.”
“Don’t look at me. I’ve only got the clothes on my back.” Morgane shot her an apologetic smile. “Well actually, I have Loki’s clothes on right now, but you know what I mean. I can grab a few things from my apartment this afternoon. Hope you like black.”
Morgane took a step nearer as if she was being lured in. This close, she sensed the depths in the power trapped inside her sister, felt the awful, bottomless stretch of it. “Ava. Don’t let anyone know. Not a hint of what’s going on. You understand, right? If these guys found out what was in you? It wouldn’t end well.”
Ava only looked at her before saying too quietly, “Not an idiot, sis. You think I hustled cards all those months only to lose my ass to a bunch of muscle-bound morons? I met Odin. I know exactly what sort of man he is. We’ll play this however you say. I’ve got no problem keeping my head down. But you have to tell me everything you know.”
Morgane did. As quickly and succinctly as she could. Backtracking a bit here and there because there were parts she didn’t get right the first time through. Other parts Ava didn’t believe.
The first time through.
“Are you completely crazy? You came here to hunt them? You knew what they were, saw what they did to us… And still, you got on a plane and came back to this city?” The accusation quivering through Ava’s words only made Morgane feel worse.
She still deserved an answer, even though in retrospect, her plan did sound insane when she said it out loud. “Yeah. I sold the house, the cars, everything. Then I took all the money from Mom and Dad’s insurance and dumped it all into one account. Enough to live on, for maybe ten years, as long as I didn’t overspend.” Running a hand through her snarled hair, Morgane hated how badly it shook at the memory, even when those days seemed forever ago. “And then I came back.”
Queen of Swords: The Banished Gods: Book One (The Banished Gods Series 1) Page 16