The Banished Gods Box Set: Books 1-3

by L. A. McGinnis

  Was she truly meant to die that night in the alley two years ago, along with Ava and her mother?

  And what if destiny meant for her to be here, exactly where she was?

  Mixed up in all of this? With Loki?

  Who had not even once brought up the fact she’d lied to him. Tricked him. Snuck out of this building after making a secret deal with Odin. Gone behind his back and almost gotten herself killed. Yet again. At the thought of what she’d done, her heart ached so badly she thought it might bleed. Loki, who’d taken care of her and Ava, even after she’d betrayed him. And not said a single word about it.

  If their roles were reversed? If he’d lied to her about practically everything?

  Her head roared at the mere thought of it. She’d be so pissed off she wouldn’t be able to see straight. As it was, she was soaking in a hot tub, safe, comfortable, cared for. Because he’d come for her. And gotten them all out alive. God, she sucked.

  Scrubbing the tears off her face, she found Loki leaning in the doorway, watching. For a long moment, all they did was take each other in. “I failed you today,” he said softly. She opened her mouth to deny it, but he cut her off. “I did. I should have gone back for your mother. I should have at least tried.” His voice was barely a sigh. “But in those seconds, I couldn’t think of anything but saving you.” While she had managed to only think of Ava.

  He took a step forward, sat on the edge of the tub, looking down at her with impossible gentleness. “If I could give her back to you, I would. She was your family. She bought us the time we needed to get away. Your mother gave that to us. All of us.” He reached out and wiped a tear off her cheek.

  “There was a time…” His words trailed off as Morgane waited, her arms banded around her knees.

  “There was a time,” Loki said again, his voice stronger this time, “when I had a family. We were family. It’s hard to imagine, I know, seeing us the way we are now. Seeing Odin like this, so jaded and bitter. But he wasn’t always like this. None of us were like this. Ruined.”

  “Your mother, she died for you. She was willing to die for all of us. To give us that chance.” The words sounded like a plea. “I should have stopped her, or I should have found another way to the bridge.”

  “None of this is your fault, Loki.” Her eyes, even while they burned, were clear enough. “It isn’t anyone’s. Mom did the same thing that night in the alley. She yelled for us to run, she bought us time, though she couldn’t even see what was attacking us. She saved us today like she saved me then.”

  “Still. I would have done things differently.” The look on his face sharpened. “But ask me if I could take back the night I picked you up and brought you back here.” Those incredible eyes glinted with steely determination. “I’d make the same decision. Call me selfish but to have you here with me, right now?” His smile turned thoughtful. “Yeah, I’d do it all over again. Call it fate.”

  “I don’t believe in fate.” The water was cooling, and it swirled around her knees as she reached out for a towel. “No more than I believe in coincidence or luck.” Exhausted, she leaned into him gratefully as he wrapped her up, his hands tugging the towel tightly around her waist. “Which is the question I keep asking myself. Why me? Why not some other, random mortal? What do I have that no one else has? And how does Ava fit into all of this?”

  “All valid questions,” he murmured, taking her weight as she swayed against him. “And ones which deserve answers. Right after you sleep.”

  “I can’t sleep. Too much running around in my head.”

  “Then make it stop.”

  She made it two unsteady steps before his hand slid under her other elbow, guiding her toward the bed. “Turn it off, Morgane, if only for a few hours. And sleep.”

  She slipped out of the towel, and he slid a shirt over her, smelling of him. Ran a finger along that scar, seeing it, finally understanding what the words, what the promise of it meant to her. Then without a word, he pushed her against the pillows and covered her up. “Can you stay, just until I fall asleep?”

  He settled in beside her, face to face, searching her eyes as she voiced the other question that had been dogging her for hours. “I don’t understand why I’m here, Loki.”

  Pressing a kiss against her forehead, he answered, “Because I need you to be.” And he hugged her closer as sleep dragged her under.

  22

  Loki waited until Morgane’s breathing steadied before slipping out.

  Of all the things he had seen, in all the realms he had seen them, today had by far been one of the worst. And he had a feeling it was not over yet.

  Watching her mother, her mother for fuck’s sake, throw herself between them and the writhing horde, just to buy them enough time to make it to the bridge…

  Fuck.

  They may have been cursed to spend an eternity here because of him. And yet, nothing had left him feeling as powerless as watching that woman die today.

  Every step he climbed to his son’s room, that helplessness spiraled up, up inside him. He hadn’t been able to save her. He couldn’t get the sight out of his head of her slight, frail body in front of the wave. The stairs in front of him began to eddy, and he slapped a hand against the wall for support.

  A long time ago, only once, he’d felt a similar, frantic feeling. The day he’d allowed Hel to persuade him to kill the serpent that swallowed the world.

  The serpent was supposed to cause the apocalypse, by consuming Asgard and all life within it. At least, that’s what Hel’s constant, incessant whispering had convinced him of. To prevent it, she’d said, all he had to do was destroy it, and he’d cheat destiny itself.

  She plied him with deception disguised as flattery, whispering her wicked lies in his ear, feeding his bottomless ego, his arrogance, his fears.

  In the end, he’d followed through and done it, hacked the creature’s head off, hoping to prevent the ending of their world. Prevent war, bloodshed, death.

  And yes, he’d realized his mistake, once he’d seen the utter delight on his daughter’s face.

  This feeling, this fear, this utter, sinking horror, only happened one other time. And only for one reason. Because he had something to lose. Something he cared about. Last time, it was his entire world, his people, his children, and everything he knew.

  This time? Someone else he cared for deeply.

  Rapping on the door at the top of the steps, he stepped back and waited, his finger tracing the carved wards encircling the stone doorjamb. Mir’s markings, and damn good work.

  “What?” Barked Fen’s rough voice through the door.

  “Let me in, we need to talk.”

  Fenrir’s room was kept Jesuit sparse. Not because he liked it that way, more so because it was a necessity. Wolves and fine furniture did not mix well. Loki skimmed a look over his son, head to toe. “Full moon?”

  “Couple of days yet. But I’m good.”

  Loki’s gaze drifted from the brooding, muscular man before him to the thick, silver chains bolted to the wall, illuminated by a thin square of watery moonlight. “All right, then.” He loosed a breath. “I have news. It appears Hel has been seeking Morgane. For quite a while.”

  “For how long?” Fen cocked his head, lupine, even in his human form. The same dark, wavy hair as Loki, framing a face many would call handsome. Intense, maybe. Predatory, most definitely. Blue eyes, but of a warmer, darker variety, ones reflecting a flash of green by night. But it was the sheer size of him that impressed. Fenrir was a wall of muscle, courtesy of his giantess mother. His looks, however, were Loki’s, albeit a wilder version. His ability to shift, dependent on the moon. And his mood.

  “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. Bracin
g 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.