The Banished Gods Box Set: Books 1-3

by L. A. McGinnis

  “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 perfectly 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.

  He’d always been proud of his body, hewn from decades of fighting. For the longest time, this act had been about one thing. Release. Bio
logy. Okay, that was two things. But as she watched him, he felt…powerless. Powerless against her, or rather, against this growing attraction between them. What it meant. How it made him feel.

  “Loki?” Morgane looked worried now, so he pushed all of his fucking bullshit to the side.

  He stalked over, those green eyes locked on his every step, his erection jutting out in front of him, leading the way so to speak. And when she reached up and pulled him down to her, murmured his name so low he barely heard it, he straddled her and caught her hands in his. “Can’t have you going anywhere, love.” Her eyes fluttered shut. “You’re all mine.”

  “Yes,” she whispered, “at the moment, I am.”

  He wanted to put his mouth on every square inch of her body. He wanted to taste her again, but he chose her mouth, which was so damn sweet. Settling into the cradle of her body, feeling the heat bloom between them as she adjusted for his weight, begging him with little moans and movements while he guided himself to her, notching the head of his cock into her before she arched up and took all of him inside her.

  He drove into her, hard. Once. Twice. With that, the bed shifted, tilted, and with a thud, fell to the floor. Her eyes flew open. Before she said a word, he braced his other hand beside her and began moving faster and faster, holding her hands still as her body bucked in time with his while they both rocketed toward the release that was so damn close. With each stroke, something flared hotter. With every thrust, some bond between them grew taut, winding tighter. Morgane gasped out his name, and with it, he broke apart and spilled into her before collapsing, wet with sweat, his lips grazing the side of her neck before settling himself against her. She wrapped an arm around his waist and nestled closer with a satisfied sigh.

  Damn it. He’d come here to get his shirt. Really. That’s what he’d told himself the whole ride here. And now he had her wrapped around him, still inside her, and ready to have her again.

  And again if she’d let him. Words were about to tumble out of him. Words he’d be a fucking fool to say. Even worse, words that would get her killed.

  So instead, Loki looked around her place. “So. This is what you call home?”

  Morgane had, for the past several hours, imagined a hundred ways they’d be together. This was so not one. Here in her hot, dirty, little apartment on her bed, which now tilted dangerously to one side, with weapons strewn everywhere and half a dead demon on the floor.

  “I think we broke the bed,” she managed.

  All the while, Loki slowly inspected her pathetic life.

  She wished he wouldn’t. The pin-marked maps on the walls, the paint-speckled floor, the dirty window overlooking the brick side of the next building over, the windows covered with sheets of plywood and bars, even five stories up. The dented and broken steel door, four inches thick, once her most trusted protector.

  “Jesus, Morgane. Living like this—”

  She cut him off before he got any further. “Yeah, I know. I know.” The real problem wasn’t the shoebox, or the door, or even the shitty neighborhood. It was how he looked at it all. Like he was seeing it for the first time and now that was the way she saw it too, and it was sad. Just…really pathetic, which embarrassed her. She quickly looked away before she caught a glimpse of the pity in his eyes.

  Because that would make this whole damn situation a million times worse.

  “Yeah, this is my life, welcome to it.” She pushed away from him, feeling corded muscle beneath her hands as she did so. Damn, but the man was beautiful. Way too beautiful, if you asked her, to be roaming around this earth.

  And he had fantastic timing.

  Come to think of it… “What are you doing here, Loki? And don’t say you were in the neighborhood because nobody comes to this shitty neighborhood unless they have a death wish. Did Mir change his mind about letting me go?”

  “I was worried about you. Thought I’d check in on you, find out how you were feeling.”

  A lie. Or rather, the truth disguised as a lie. “Lucky me, you happened by as those things were breaking down my front door.” Her voice sounded way too calm, way too measured, even to her.

  He smiled up at her, his eyes shining. “I do have really good timing. Do you wish I hadn’t come?” He was smiling, his voice teasing, playful.

  “No,” she said, losing steam by the minute as reality kicked in. “No, I’m grateful, I am.” Among other things. “But I need to know, since you’re here…who are you? Who are you and why are you hunting these monsters too?”

  Instantly, the glow dimmed in his eyes. “I can’t give you those answers, Morgane. Actually, I can’t tell you anything.”

  “So you just happen by at the exact right time to save me, you bed me, but you won’t tell me who you really are? Or why we’re out doing the exact same thing, every night?” Whatever light was left in those brilliant blue eyes promptly extinguished.

  “How did you even find me, half dead the other night? Were you following me?” When his face went smooth and blank, that small flicker of trust she’d begun to feel for him faded. It disappeared completely when he met her eyes. And denied her, shaking his head slowly.

  Staring down at him, she knew she’d remember every second of tonight. The way he looked, the way he’d made her feel. All of it. But that’s all they’d ever be, memories. Because feelings this intense were not made to last.

  His deep voice dropped to a hushed whisper. “Morgane, I only came by to get my shirt. To check if you were all right. The rest of it…”

  Her hands shook as she picked up the shirt and tossed it in his face. God, in her history of huge mistakes, this was the hugest. The most huge. “Yeah, I get it. Now you can take this and go.”

  The only upside to this whole debacle was that by tomorrow he’d never find her again. She’d be out of here, disappearing as she always did, and if the demons couldn’t locate her, then Loki wouldn’t either. As if he read her mind, he stared hard at her, his gaze pleading. “I can’t tell you, Morgane, I just fucking can’t. You aren’t even supposed to remember who I am or anything about me….” His mouth snapped shut as if he’d already said too much.

  “You know what, it doesn’t matter. You should go. Make sure you take your damned shirt with you.” She hated the ache in her chest. Hated the fact she’d let someone into her life this easily, after years of being so careful. She’d been a fool tonight. A damn stupid fool. Not to mention she’d slept with a complete stranger, no protection, no condom, no nothing.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  Yet. She couldn’t take her eyes off him until the door closed behind him. As if some force of nature drew her to him, she couldn’t have stopped herself if she tried. From the way his arms flexed when he pulled on his pants, to the way his shirt fit tight over his shoulders and the soft, uncertain way he stared down at her for a long moment before fingering a strand of her hair on his way out. Every moment of tonight would be etched onto her memories. Because tonight was the best of her life. And not because of how she currently spent her time.

  But because of the way he had reached in and pulled something out. Something she’d shoved down so long ago, she didn’t know it was still inside her until he’d found it.

  Morgane made a half-assed attempt to lock the door behind him, fell into the tilted bed with the twisted sheets, and tried to sleep, dreaming of Vikings and demons and whether people like her ever got second chances at anything.

  8

  “Yeah, this’ll work great.” The next afternoon Morgane nodded to her new landlord, trying not to gag from the stench of day old gin emanating from the old man’s pores.

  This fourth shitty apartment, which looked exactly like the first shitty apartment she’d toured today, would do just fine. And as a bonus, it had a commanding view of the whole shitty neighborhood and was directly on the train line to O’Hare. Easy on, easy off. The seventh floor location offered a strategic vantage point, and the rent was cheap enough. As soon as she pressed five hundred dollars cash int
o the fat man’s hand, she pulled out her burner phone and made the call. “Yeah, I need another door, Tim, before nightfall, if possible. Yeah, the same model as before, let me give you my new address.” As she rattled off the number, the fat man planted himself directly in her path.

  “You can’t do nothin’ to my property, bitch. This’s mine, and you can’t—”

  Without breaking stride, Morgane pressed another five hundred into his hand. “What do you say to an extra five as a down payment, and you can go buy yourself something nice?” Morgane winked while she slammed the door shut in his face. The van, rented early this morning from U-Haul, held everything she owned and was barely half full. She’d need a new bed, thanks to last night, but that wasn’t a priority.

  Getting this door installed by nightfall was a priority.

  Going out to hunt tonight was a priority.

  It was funny, she thought, how her priorities had changed so drastically. There had been a time, not so long ago, when her life had been as normal as the next person’s. Just two years. Twenty-four months. Just over seven hundred days.

  And yet, a lifetime ago.

  Back then, she had a father, a mother, a sister. A family. They’d lived in the suburbs, shared a perfectly normal life, one so filled with boredom and routine, each day could have been predicted down to the very last, scheduled moment. Until a car accident tore it all apart. The day her dad was killed by a drunk driver, predictability had gone out the window.

  Her sister, Ava, drove back to Pittsburgh and stayed. Her mother, Gwen, tried to pretend everything would be all right. And had failed miserable. Morgane wanted to stay in college, but suddenly classwork eluded her, so she’d finally given up and moved back home, too.

  Morgane called those months the Dark Times.

  The three of them mashed together, wallowing in grief. Her mother unable to get past it. Her sister, unable to stop being pissed off. Morgane, too numb to help either of them.