by C. R. Jane
Bev grinned and pointed the pencil at me. “Two hours.”
I shook my head and grimaced. “No way. I’ll want to be curled up in bed and dead to the world before midnight. Thank you very much.”
My roommate let out a dramatic sigh, and then uncurled her legs from under her as she stood. “Fine. You win. One hour. But you have to take a damn shower.” She leaned in and sniffed me before pinching her nose. “Because you are getting ripe, bitch.”
I opened my mouth, but she cut me off. “And no dry shampoo. An actual shower. With water and everything.” I clamped my mouth shut and grumbled under my breath. What could I say? I liked my dry shampoo. It kept my color brighter longer, and it was just so much easier. A few spritzes and you’re ready to go!
“Alright, I guess.”
Bev helped me pack up my stuff, and we headed back to our dorm. Boston University was a pretty good-sized campus with large, red brick buildings mixed with a few modern pieces. But most importantly, it had one of the best photography journalism programs in the country. It was my lifelong dream to travel around the world and take shots of all the historical events as they happened.
What better way to record history than to be there? Right in the muck of things. One of my favorite photographs was one from 1940, where a little girl clutched her doll close to her while sitting in the remnants that had once been her home. The raw emotion there, which the photographer captured during that perilous time, really touched me. I wanted to cause that same reaction in someone else someday.
“Okay.” Bev stopped us in front of our hallway. “You go shower, and I’ll pick out something for you to wear.”
“Uh, I don’t know about that.” I arched a brow at her. “Last time I let you dress me, I looked like a runner-up at RuPaul’s Drag Show.”
“Hey, I still stand behind that sequined dress. It was hot.” She pointed a finger at me with a wink.
I rolled my eyes. “Hot or not, I couldn’t stand in one place too long without a frat boy wanting to motorboat my boobs.”
Bev made a honking motion at my chest. “Well, they are fabulous. If my honkers were that big, then I would be flaunting them every night.” She frowned down at her own A-cup boobs and tried to push them together to make some semblance of cleavage before sighing. “Oh well, I just have to live vicariously through you.”
“What about Miranda?” I cocked my head to the side. “She’s got boobs too.”
“But those are her boobs. It’s not the same.” Bev shook her head as I laughed. “Now go shower, you’re starting to smell like the potheads up on the fourth floor.”
“I’m going. I’m going.” I waved her off, and she popped me on the ass as I walked away. Giggling, I waved a finger at her. “Hey, hands off the merchandise or I’ll tell Miranda.”
“Oooh, please do! Jealousy sex is so much better than regular, old lesbian sex.” Bev waggled her brows at me.
“Isn’t it always lesbian sex?” I asked, walking backward down the hallway.
Bev shrugged. “Yeah, but this way she does all the work.”
I shook my head and laughed at her. “That sounds like true love to me.”
Chapter 2
The volume of the music in the frat house was record level high tonight. The floor vibrated with every beat of the song blasting through the speakers. How anyone could hear themselves think, let alone talk to their friends, was beyond me. Honestly, I was surprised that the cops hadn’t been called already.
“Isn’t this great?” Miranda yelled at me with a big grin, as she handed me a red solo cup.
I took it graciously and sniffed it. Beer. Gross. Pretending to drink from it, I nodded my head at the perky brunette.
Miranda didn’t really notice my lack of enthusiasm. She was too focused on making sure Bev paid attention to her and her tiny pink dress, which barely covered her ass. She was one step away from flashing the whole room, and I think she half wished it’d happen.
Thankfully, tonight Bev had taken mercy on me and picked out a pair of tight jeans and a lacy camisole that, while wasn’t as slutty on most people, looked obscene with my double D’s. Most of the time guys at least pretended to be checking out your whole package, but tonight, in this top, they were zeroing in on my cleavage like they were Winnie the Pooh and my chest was the pot of honey. I didn’t want to even know what they had running through their mind.
“Come on.” Miranda grabbed Bev’s arm and dragged her to the dance floor. Bev gave me an apologetic look before letting her girlfriend take her away.
I sighed. Fuck. My eyes scanned the room, either looking for an escape plan or someone I knew. It was really up in the air right now. I’d promised Bev one hour, but I’d only been here for five minutes, and I was ready to leave.
After a few moments, I decided to at least see if there was something other than beer around here. If I was going to drink, I’d at least like to drink something that didn’t taste like goat piss.
I pushed through the crowd and almost had a drink thrown on my shirt on my way, but I dodged it at the last second. Grumbling and developing a headache, I made it to the kitchen in one piece. Unfortunately, the person who was in the kitchen made me want to turn right around and leave it.
“Ash!” Christopher Turner called out, before I could duck out unseen. “Hey, wait up. You’re not leaving, are you?”
I paused mid-turn and spun back around with a weak smile. “Uh, yeah. This isn’t really my scene, you know.” I shrugged and held up my cup with a wrinkle of my nose.
Christopher Turner, Chris for short, was my ex-boyfriend from high school. He had dirty blond hair, baby blue eyes, and a panty-melting smile. We dated all four years and then when we got to the end of high school, he wanted to take it to the next level. You know, get married and have kids, the whole nine yards. He was ready to start forever.
Except, I wasn’t.
I wanted to see the world, have a career, enjoy being independent and away from my controlling family for a while before I settled down. Kids and marriage were not in the ten-year plan. It tore me apart to break up with him, but we just wanted different things.
Before we broke up, we had planned on going to Boston University together, which made it even harder for us to split. We still saw each other around campus and occasionally, like now, at parties. It was usually awkward and so full of tension that I would leave with some kind of excuse, but lately, Chris had been seeking me out more.
I’d see him in the library. At the mess hall. And every single party I happen to actually go to. It made me wonder if he was getting inside information from Bev. I wouldn’t put it past that busybody to try and push us back together. She’d been there all those months I cried over him. Four years later, and we were still roommates and on the verge of graduating. Bev means well, but she just didn’t understand why I wouldn’t want what Chris was offering.
“Here.” Chris hurried to take my cup, and then replaced it with another one. “You shouldn’t have to drink that shit.”
I sniffed the contents of the cup he gave me and then took a tentative sip. Peach schnapps. “Thanks.” I gave him a suspicious look. Did he bring a bottle of my favorite drink to a rager? I glanced around, trying to see the bottle, but couldn’t make it out amongst the others.
“You’re welcome.” Chris beamed down at me with those pretty blue eyes. They shot straight into my soul and made my heart, as well as other parts, ache for him. Chris had been my first and last boyfriend, which meant I’d only ever been with him.
I know, I know. I was in college. I was supposed to experiment. Play the field. But I couldn’t bring myself to get involved with someone else when I was so career-focused right now. Even if it was for one night. I had always believed sex had to mean something and drunken one-night stands had never been my idea of a good time.
I’ll keep my batteries and my pride, thank you very much.
“So...” Chris drew out, taking a drink of his own cup. His hand was shoved in the pocket
of his jeans that I knew would hug his gorgeous ass like a glove if he turned around. The t-shirt he was wearing had the frat house’s symbols on it and barely fit his muscular form.
While I had gone to Boston University for photojournalism, Chris came on a football scholarship. He wasn’t an idiot by any means—his business tycoon dad wouldn’t allow it—but he did care a lot about fitness. And I, and the rest of the student body, thanked him for it.
“So,” I sipped from my cup and avoided his gaze, “how are your finals?”
“Good. Good.” He bobbed his head and then sighed. “This is hard isn’t it?”
I grimaced. “Yeah.”
He dragged a hand through his hair and lifted his shoulder. “It didn’t use to be. In high school we were—”
I cut him off. “Please don’t. We’re not in high school anymore. And we’re not those same kids either.”
“Yeah but,” he tried again, but I knew where he was going and I just didn’t want to hear it. My heart couldn’t take it.
“No buts.” I shook my head. “We can’t rehash this again, it won’t change. My answer hasn’t changed.”
“But I have,” Chris cried out, drawing the attention of a few partygoers who came to get a refill. He lowered his voice and stepped in close to me. “I mean, I understand what you want now. I didn’t before and I thought we only had one option, but we have so many options right now.” He grabbed my free hand and held it tight. “We can go see the world together. We don’t have to get married. Not right now, or ever. Not if you don’t want to.”
There was so much hopefulness in his voice that I wanted to say yes. I wanted to tell him to let’s give it another shot, just so I didn’t have to disappoint him and break his heart all over again. But I couldn’t, because I wasn’t sure he actually meant it and I couldn’t do it again.
I swallowed back the words and withdrew my hand from his. Ducking my head down, I stepped backward and mumbled, “Bathroom.”
Chris called after me as I rushed through the throng of people and hunted down the bathroom. I should have just left the party, but I wasn’t really thinking that clearly. I could hear Chris following me, but I ignored him.
Unfortunately, everyone knew that if you needed to go to the bathroom at something like this then you better learn to hold it. The line wrapped around the hallway and didn’t look like it was moving at all. Chris was closing in on me so I turned right and pounded up the stairs rather than waiting in line where he could corner me.
I shoved past couples making out and darted into the game room. There were a few people here playing pool, but not as many as downstairs. A guy at the pool table was lining up his shot, and I glanced back to see if Chris had followed me. The next thing I heard was someone shouting, “Watch out!” And then I felt a sharp pain before everything went black.
Chapter 3
Cold. My body ached. I couldn’t feel my toes. I felt like I’d gone up against the Boston U’s football team and lost. Badly.
Groaning, I rolled over onto my side and pushed up. The ground was freezing beneath my fingers, and I quickly snatched my hand back as my eyes creaked open. When they came in contact with a dimly lit cavern, my eyelids shot up.
Where the hell was I?
My head swiveled around, searching back and forth, as I tried to recall how I’d gotten here. I’d been at the frat party, right? I certainly hadn’t been in a cave.
As I inched to my feet, I wrapped my arms around my bare shoulders and shivered. I remembered running from Chris and his never-ending puppy dog eyes, and then the guys playing pool. Someone shouted at me. Pain.
I winced. My hand went up to the side of my head, where a phantom pain still lingered, but I didn’t feel a wound and no blood came away on my fingers. My hand. I flipped it over and back again. My nails had been painted bright green before, and now they’re not.
My eyes glanced down at my body, and I let out a little shocked, “Eep.” The jeans and camisole I’d worn before were gone, and in their place was a white gown made of some thick, coarse material. It clung to my curves, and my breasts, which had no bra, were even more obscenely displayed than before. However, the worst of it all was my midnight, red hair. The hair I’d spent months on trying to keep its bright and vibrant color, had transformed back into the drab blonde I’d been born with.
“No,” I groaned, lifting the blonde strands up. “No. No. No!”
“Yes, yes. You’re dead. It’s quite horrible, isn’t it?” a mocking voice called from somewhere in the cave.
My head jerked up, and I searched for the owner of the voice, but didn’t see anyone. “Who’s there?” I asked, thankful my voice didn’t shake. “What do you mean I’m dead?”
“Oh, yes. Quite dead. But I thought you knew that?” The decidedly male voice paused. “Or isn’t that why you were freaking out?”
I narrowed my gaze at the spot in the cave where I had deciphered the voice was coming from. I couldn’t see anyone, although I’d tried my best. I knew something was there. “I wasn’t freaking out about dying, but we’ll get back to that later. I was freaking out cause my hair—the hair I’d spent months getting the perfect shade of red—is ruined.”
The male hummed with interest. “Well, that is easily remedied.”
My head tingled, and then the blonde hair in my hands began to bleed. Or rather change into the red I’d once had before. I gaped at it as the color slid up my head, until I could only assume my hair was now the color it was before.
“Huh, you’re right. It does look better that way.” The voice was closer now, and I glanced up from my newly colored hair to the man who had stepped out of the shadows. Ebony hair swept the shoulders of the handsome man, who had a sharp nose and an even sharper chin. His wiry frame was covered in green and black robes with a gold lining. He wore black pants and a greyish, green armor beneath. What really stood out, besides his jet-black eyes, was the golden, horned helmet on his head.
My mouth fell open. Bev hadn’t been joking when she said I knew the myths backward and forward. Most of all, I knew Norse mythology or, more specifically, the gods. And if I was actually dead and not dreaming, Loki, the God of Mischief, was standing right in front of me. And if that was the case, then I wasn’t in the frat house anymore. I wasn’t even on earth anymore. I was in Valhalla. Land of the Gods.
“You don’t look surprised.” Loki approached me with steady steps. His black boots made no sound on the cavern floor, nor did his long, golden staff. He circled around me with surveying eyes, making me feel like he was undressing me as he moved.
I lifted and dropped a shoulder. “I don’t surprise easily. Besides, I know you.”
“You do?” Loki seemed taken aback with a grin that made dimples show in his cheeks. Swoon.
“You’re Loki.” I lifted my chin and met his laughing gaze with my blue-green eyes.
“Well, my fair maiden. If you know me, then perhaps you will do me the good honor of knowing you.” He gave me a mocking bow, holding a hand out toward me. I wasn’t sure if he expected me to take it or if he was just being dramatic. He was the God of Mischief for a reason.
“Uh, Ashleigh Hartsock.” I placed my hand in his, and he wrapped his long, slender fingers around it and pulled me toward him with a surprised, “Eek.”
Pressing his lips to the top of my knuckles, Loki peered deep into my eyes. “Well, Ashleigh Hartsock, I am beyond honored and surprised to find someone as lovely as you in my cavern.”
My eyes widened. “Your cavern? I thought I was in Valhalla?”
“You are,” Loki started and then rolled his eyes, “technically, but it’s the outskirts.” His brows furrowed as he tried to figure something out. “Usually, you would have appeared at the gates, and Odin himself would have welcomed you into your new life. I’m not sure why you are here instead.”
I tried not to show him how freaked out I was as he contemplated what to do with me. Not only was I dead, but I also ended up in the wrong place. Story o
f my life.
“Well, maybe I’m not dead. Perhaps I’m dreaming. Or having one of those...” I struggled for the word as Loki locked those dazzling eyes on me again. “Near death experiences.”
“Hmm, perhaps. However, until such a time that you, fair maiden, awakens, you’re my guest.” He wrapped his arm around my waist and urged me forward. “Come, let’s leave this dreary place.”
Chapter 4
I should have been petrified. Scared out of my fucking mind. However, for some reason with Loki’s arm around me, and his cultured voice chitchatting away in my ear as we moved through the cavern and out into a large lasciviously furnished room, I didn’t have a single reason to panic.
“Is this where you live?” I asked, stopping to stare in awe. The walls and ceiling were covered in gold and stag horns. The furniture was full of fluffy pillows of greens and blacks, while the floor had marble tiles. It had a few animal fur carpets tactfully laid out beneath tables and sitting areas.
“Yes,” Loki drawled with a sort of bored look. “It’s not the palace, by any means, but it suits my needs just fine.”
We stopped at a couch, and I sat down, angling my head toward him. “And what are those needs?”
Loki twisted his wrist in the air and his staff disappeared, and in its place was a tray of cheeses, bread, and grapes. “Why, entertaining beautiful women, such as yourself of course.” I flushed at the way his eye roamed over me, a bit flattered that a god would be interested in me. I’d never been overly confident, but I wasn’t a seething ball of self-loathing either. In high school I had a hard time eating in front of guys. Even when I was with Chris, I kept my munching to a minimum. However, now that I was in college, I really didn’t give a flying fuck what anyone thought. A plate of ribs? Hell, yes. Chug an energy drink in one breath? Bring it on!
