Loki's Game

by Siobhan Kinkade

  All at once, he threw her backwards and leapt from the bed, the frightening, familiar wolf bursting into view and landing in a howling heap on the balcony across the room. Lily smothered a startled cry behind her hands. She stared at the beast, shaken to her core by the sight. The beast’s shoulders rose and fell with labored breaths, a low whine rattling in its throat. She laid one trembling hand over her stuttering heart, and after a moment slipped to the edge of the bed. Rowan’s intelligent blue eyes stared back at her, the set of his face apologetic.

  Sliding from mind-blowing sex to the worst fear of her life took no more than a moment, but as she faced the monster on the other side of the room, her heart pounded for an entirely different reason. If she intended to have any sort of relationship with this…this man, then she had to face this.

  Slowly, Lily crossed the room toward him, stopping several paces away to watch him. She reached for him, squeaking in surprise when he bumped his head against her palm. The feel of his soft, smooth fur rustling across her fingers thrilled her. A small, tentative smile crossed her lips.

  “I must be crazy,” she said. The barking noise Rowan made sounded suspiciously like a laugh. She cut her eyes at him. “Hush,” Lily commanded, and a startled giggle burst out of her throat. “It’s like having a pet!” she cried, and received an unamused look as she giggled and stroked the top of his head. The big wolf snorted and paced around her, leaning against her belly. She knelt to look him in the face, but as she reached out to stroke the fur along his shoulder, his demeanor changed. The beast’s long snout curled back into a snarl and he turned to face the open balcony doors, leaning against her and pushing her back toward the center of the room. “Rowan…what is it?” she asked, panic rising to choke away her earlier euphoria as the fur along his spine stood on end. He howled.

  * * * * *

  The concern in her voice scarcely registered. She couldn’t know what he’d sensed, what terrible odor lurked just beyond the walled garden.

  Fucking cat.

  The poor girl was confused, yes, but it was for her own good. If she really knew what had come to pass since their meeting… If she knew what sort of trouble he’d led her into…

  Rowan organized his thoughts against the rush of feral aggression and reached out through his mind to pull his human nature back to the surface. Itching, followed by needles of pain, coursed through his body, and as the fur receded, a thin sheen of sweat broke out across his skin. Bones, twisting and contorting with the change, echoed sickening pops as the joints reformed into a human body.

  Rising to his feet, Rowan surged forward, slamming the balcony doors closed. He flipped the multiple locks, drew the curtains, and leaned against them. He drew in several deep breaths, searching for calm.

  “Rowan, what is going on?” Her voice sounded desperate, panicked. “Tell me everything right now or I’m leaving.”

  “You can’t leave,” he replied. Rowan turned to face her, stung by the tears that coursed down her cheeks. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “Well, don’t you think I should know what the danger is so I can avoid it?” She was nothing if not logical, even when upset. He cringed and moved past her to sit on the edge of the bed.

  “Remember when I told you there was trouble associated with me?” he asked. She whimpered, seeming to notice her nakedness, and crossed her arms over her chest as she nodded. “Well, this is it.”

  “What is it?” she prodded, padding back across the room to draw the bedspread up around her body.

  “Loren.”

  “So you’ve said,” she snorted, wiping her face with the backs of her hands as she slipped into the bed. He wanted her closer, but she stayed as far away as she could get while still keeping her body covered. “But what specifically?”

  “What do you know of him?”

  “Well,” she perched on the mattress and drew her knees up to her chest, “he’s also in his mid-thirties,” she shot a sharp look at him as she said it, “and he’s an eccentric millionaire art collector that supposedly inherited his fortune and collection from wealthy grandparents.” Rowan couldn’t stop the horrified laugh that tore loose from his throat.

  “And you believe that?”

  “You just asked what I knew.” She scowled, and the look froze his laughter. “You also said you two have a past. Is he some sort of shifter too?”

  Gods, this woman knew how to get right to the point. Any other time he would appreciate that quality, but this was conversation he had been dreading since he first lost control of his form and discovered that she was The One.

  “He is. However he is not like me…not at all.”

  “You called him ‘kitten.’ I’m assuming he shifts into a cat?”

  “Panther.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Panther.”

  Lily’s blood ran cold. “The sightings…”

  “Were of Loren,” Rowan confirmed. “When the first sighting was reported, I ran the woods and found his scent.”

  She swallowed. “Where?”

  “Concentrated around your home. He likely picked up my scent around you. I can assure you it was the catalyst for his hiring you—you were a way for him to keep track of me. Your skills turned out to be an unexpected asset for him.” Rowan reached across the vast expanse of bed to take her by the shoulders and turn her to face him. “Never, never underestimate him, Lily. He is a trickster. He will kill you if he sees the need arise.”

  “That’s good to know,” she snorted. Once again in the space of seconds, Rowan left her mind reeling. Lily still had no idea exactly what the conflict was. As far as this new information about Loren having a second nature as well, she could not process it, however true it rang from his lips. And why was it always that the people in her life complicated things so? “Why me?” she asked after a long moment. Rowan’s big hand brushed gently over her cheek, and a ghost of a smile appeared on his sad, beautiful mouth.

  “Because I want you,” he said. “Because he knows that after six hundred years, any human woman that can bring about my change is one I will protect to the death.”

  Lily stared at him, dumbstruck. Emotions shifted across his face in rapid succession, never staying long enough for her to pinpoint. The only one she could hang onto for more than a few seconds was anger.

  “What kind of war have you dragged me into, Rowan?” Something flashed in his eyes and he rose from the bed to pace the floor. Still thought-shatteringly naked and without the least bit of thought toward that state. Not a good sign…definitely not.

  “I wish I could say your terminology was wrong,” he sighed, “but what this is…is a war. I never should have brought you into this, Lily. I was a fool to think I could have you. To think I could have a life free of this struggle.”

  She would sort out the romantic intentions later. Right now she had to figure out this war, and do it fast. Lily reached for her discarded robe and, shrugging into it, crossed the room to where Rowan paced.

  “I’m assuming you barricaded us inside because he’s out there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where exactly?”

  “I do not know… Close.”

  As she watched him, Lily mentally paged through the book she’d stolen from Loren. One passage stood out in her mind.

  “Does this have anything to do with Fafnir?”

  Rowan froze, turning to stare at her. “How do you know that name if you know nothing of the histories?”

  “I’m assuming that’s a ‘yes’?”

  “How could you know it?”

  Reluctantly, Lily relayed the story of how she found and took the book, and how reading it was what pushed her to call him. Rowan listened with new resolve, his face cold and impassive as stone while she recounted the passage in the book about the dragon and his death.

  “I need to see this book,” he said when she stopped to breathe.

  “It’s at my house. I left it on the couch when you rushed me out. We could go get it.”


  “No, I am certain he has already been there.”

  Lily rolled her eyes and tightened the robe around her body. She felt cold. The weight of Rowan’s admissions bore down on her shoulders, making her tired. It had been a long day, starting with Loren’s odd display of domesticity, and an even longer night now.

  “So how is it that an old Norse myth can have so much bearing on us today?”

  “The common myth is wrong,” he said, “as so many are. You have heard others say that in all mythology there is a kernel of truth, yes?” Lily nodded, watching him with an odd sense of disconnection. Almost like she was watching herself as well. “Fafnir did not steal the dwarven hoard to gloat. He stole it to protect his father.”

  “But the myth says the cursed ring made him kill his father.”

  “He did kill his father, but not for the reason you think.” Rowan grabbed a pair of jeans and pulled them over his hips. “Come with me. You are part of this now, and I need to show you something.”

  She pulled her robe tighter around her shoulders, and had to tighten the belt twice before she was out of the room—the satin had a way of falling loose—and followed him through the building into the gallery. It seemed an odd destination, and she had a brief flashback to Loren acting much the same. It unnerved her, but as the lights came up, Rowan towed her to a case on the far end of the room. It held a single item, and the sight of it caused Lily’s breath to catch in her throat.

  “The ring…”

  Rowan flipped the door on the case open and lifted the ring from its stand. The cool, gold band was heavier than Lily thought it would be as he placed it in her palm. It reverberated with power. She felt the gentle hum, weighed the metal while the current coursed through her fingers. “The source of this war,” he said.

  “I…I still don’t understand.” He reached into the case and pulled a small pouch from beneath the ring’s stand.

  “The dwarf-king, Andvari, forged this ring several lifetimes ago, but it was stolen before he could own it.” Lily went numb. This conversation was too close to the one she’d had with Loren. This made it too real. And she didn’t know what to believe.

  “The story says it’s cursed.”

  “The only curse upon this ring is that Loki will never hold it. Human greed is what brought about the death of Fafnir and his family. Sigurd murdered Fafnir for the ring, but not before Fafnir bore a daughter of his own in secret.”

  “Is there written proof of this?”

  “No.”

  “Then why should I believe it?”

  Rowan scoffed. “Do you find it so hard to believe that humans do not want to prove the existence of the old gods?”

  “Proof?”

  He tapped the ring in her hand. “Proof of Loki’s trickery.”

  “Why should I believe any of this?”

  “Because Fafnir’s daughter was my grandmother.” Lily gasped, and the ring clattered to the floor. Her hold on reality shifted, and Rowan caught her just before she collapsed into darkness.

  * * * * *

  Groaning, Rowan lifted her limp body into his arms. They were too far past safe to stop now, and though the information had overwhelmed her, she had to know the rest. He bent and picked up the ring, tucking it and the pouch into his pocket before locking the case and taking Lily back to the bedroom. This was the one part of his past he hated—the gods and monsters mystery. For the thousandth time since meeting Lily, Rowan wished his life could be that of a normal human.

  He laid her across the bed and went to his dresser, where he pulled a gold chain from one of the many boxes and threaded the ring onto it. While Lily slept, he clasped it around her neck then pulled her into his arms where she lay without moving. When she woke two hours later, she woke disoriented. Her panicked gaze scanned the room, but when she finally found him above her, she relaxed back into his arms.

  “Rowan,” she croaked, her voice thick with sleep. He kissed her forehead and inhaled her sweet scent, enjoying her heady flavor. She hummed against his chest and stretched. He wanted her, but his selfish desires would have to wait.

  “Welcome back,” he said.

  “Please tell me I dreamed all of that.” Rowan tapped the ring lying against the hollow of her throat.

  “I am afraid not, my love.” He chuckled when she groaned, and pulled her closer. “There is more, too.”

  She covered her face with her hands and whimpered. “You mean to tell me it gets worse?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “Next you’re going to tell me that Loren is a descendent of Loki, right?”

  He hesitated, amazed again by her ability to sniff out the truth, and felt a small smile curl the corner of his mouth. “Something like that.”

  “Oh, God!” she wailed, and buried her face against his chest. “This is so beyond ridiculous!”

  “So it would seem. As much as I would love to say it is not, this is all the truth.”

  * * * * *

  Lily sighed and sat up to look at Rowan. The ring lay cold against her chest, a heavy reminder of the mess she’d gotten herself into. She couldn’t bring herself to question its placement yet, but even so, something did not add up.

  “Loren’s last name is Eshu. He said something once about being related to the god.”

  “What do you know about Eshu?” Rowan asked. Lily thought back to her classes and reference books, and the few things Loren told her. Turned out it wasn’t much.

  “He’s a trickster.” She searched Rowan’s face for information, but found nothing but calm patience. “He could look like two different things to people standing side-by-side.”

  “He is not one of the old gods.”

  Lily waited for Rowan to continue, but he remained silent. “I don’t follow.”

  “After the death of Hreidmar, Freyja beat Loki with her bare hands, then demanded that Odin banish him from Asgard. Since Loki was responsible for the Gods’ capture, which ultimately led to the theft of the ring—”

  “Odin didn’t banish him?”

  “Not exactly. He demanded that he be chained and have the poison of the scorpion dripped on his body for eternity.”

  “But how did he—”

  “End up in Africa?” Lily nodded. “Anansi.”

  “The spider-god?”

  “Also a trickster. Loki loved to play games at the expense of others. Anansi was alone and lonely, and for centuries, Loki’s ruses were blamed on the spider. One night the two came face to face, the Great Spider and the Panther. The villagers saw the confrontation, and from it the god Eshu was born.”

  Lily lay back against the pillows and scrubbed her palms over her face. The whole of European mythology was being rewritten as they spoke, and while it was a fantastic story, she still couldn’t quite wrap her head around it. “That doesn’t work,” she said after several long minutes of contemplation. “Loki was chained. He couldn’t be in Africa.”

  “True,” Rowan agreed. “But the trickster had many ruses, many faces, and many charms. It was not long before Loki broke the bonds and led the giants to Ragnarok.”

  “Ragnarok?”

  “The apocalypse…so to speak. But his attempts at destroying Asgard failed, and Loki knew he was never to return. The exile alone is more than enough to appease the other gods and keep the All-Father’s hands clean.”

  “So…back up. How is Loren related to Eshu?” she asked. He fixed her with a hard stare. She was trying to catch up, to understand, but the overwhelming information dump still had her head spinning. “He’s Loki’s grandson?” Rowan shook his head, the barest hint of a smile haunting his mouth. “Son?” The smile widened, yet he shook his head again. She started to respond again, but the thought was just too absurd. The look on Rowan’s face told her he knew what she wanted to say, yet she still couldn’t. If she were right… “No,” she blurted and her eyes widened.

  “He has lived many lifetimes with many names and many faces. He has been a charmer, a drifter, and a criminal…but always a god.”

&nbs
p; “No.”

  Rowan nodded toward her neck. “It all goes back to greed. Loki wants the treasure. He thought he would be able to take it back once Hreidmar’s family caved in on itself. Only, he did not know of Fafnir’s woman, or of the child.”

  “Wouldn’t Odin have told him? I mean, they were brothers, right?”

  “The All-Father never divulged all of his secrets. Of course he knew of our existence, but to turn again on the people he had endangered… Mischievous, he might have been. Cruel, never.”

  “So why you?” She drew her knees up to her chin and rested her cheek on them. “And why a wolf?”

  “Fafnir’s decision to take the form of a dragon seemed a flawless plan. With one exception.”

  “Sigurd knew the secret to bring him down.”

  “Yes.” Rowan opened the pouch he’d brought with them and dumped its contents into Lily’s hand. A single, shimmering dragon scale. She blinked at it several times, unable to comprehend the iridescent, near-invisible thing as the light around her flickered on its surface. “One unguarded place over the heart, and the chosen trophy of Sigurd.”

  “This is unreal.”

  “My grandmother, after Fafnir’s death, was tasked with finding and guarding the hoard. The wolf is a tracker. Loyal, noble blood demands a noble form. And a creature as fantastic as a dragon sadly does not fit well into human history.”

  “So I’ve noticed. But what’s Loki’s part in this?”

  “Because the ring was used as part of the payment for the death of Fafnir’s brother Otr, Loki, like Andvari, never truly got to own it. It was he who convinced Regin to create the sword that would take the life of his brother. Loki sees the ring as payment for his exile.”

  Lily rolled her eyes. She was exhausted. “I can’t think about this anymore.” Rowan pulled her into his chest and held her close.

  “Then we will sleep. I would feel better if you agreed not to leave me in the morning.” He yawned loudly.

  “I have to work tomorrow.”