Queen of Swords: The Banished Gods: Book One (The Banished Gods Series 1)

by L. A. McGinnis

  A better world.

  Loki just wasn’t sure Odin would see it that way.

  45

  For Morgane, time became a blur.

  Healing was faster and easier with Mir’s magical help.

  It was also incredibly tiring.

  “Sleep, love. You need it,” Loki murmured, his hand stroking her hair, his voice grave and quiet, for what seemed like the thousandth time in her ear as she drifted off. Warm blankets snugged around her, safe and sound and warm and comfortable in a bed smelling of love, in a tower of stone rising above a city of light.

  But memories of Hel snuck in, here and there. The dungeon brought its cold, dripping presence into her dreams, and there were times she jerked awake, cringing from the sound of claws on stone, her legs and arms twisted in the blankets, dreaming they were bound in chains of iron.

  Loki was always there.

  Her tether, her anchor. Dragging her back, running his hands across her, chasing the Underworld, the darkness, even the demons away. Pulling her back from the shadows threatening to swallow her up.

  She hadn’t yet told him about the thing locked in the dark with her. The infinite cruelty of it. The sense that something was coming for them, and whatever it was, there were no bargains they could make, no compromises, no postponements. Nor about what Hel had done to her mother. But she would have to, soon enough. Once she was better. Once she threw off this crushing exhaustion.

  Not now.

  Now she needed to sleep. To heal.

  There would be time enough later to talk about shadows.

  The sound of the door woke her, and Loki stepped in, utter joy dancing in those eyes. But then his face went carefully blank as he strode forward, a strange, secret smile on his face. “One of these days, I’m going to come in and find you gone.”

  “Not today. But maybe tomorrow, I might get up if I feel…” Morgane let her words trail off, afraid to put too much hope into that thought. “Anyway, I feel better. Where have you been?” she asked, trying to avoid any subject more taxing.

  The bed dipped below his weight, his blue eyes warming. “I moved your sister to the top floor. Secured her some furniture. And clothes. She was pissing Mir off something terrible, and I was trying to avoid a bloodbath. So she’s finally settled in, as comfortable as I could make her.”

  Morgane pulled back so she could see him. “Thank you,” she said. “I know how difficult she is.”

  “Do you really?”

  “Oh trust me, I do. Which is why…” His hair was so long it curled at the ends, she realized, running her fingers through it, feeling the texture of rich, thick silk. “I think… I think I’m done sleeping. For a while.”

  Winding the ends of his hair between her fingers, she pulled him to her, eyes locked, as the first brush of his lips on hers had her opening, opening for him before she closed down on his bottom lip, snugged it in between her teeth so he couldn’t move. Releasing him, she pulled back and breathed into his mouth, “I love you so damn much.”

  Loki pushed her hand over her head as he rolled onto her. The wonderful weight of him pinning her as she yielded, his tongue working lazy circles inside her mouth, over her teeth, against the top of her mouth. His other hand working its way down her stomach, and then lower, until he paused at the juncture of her thighs.

  He groaned, pressing hard, and she pushed up against his hand, against that deliberate, rhythmic pleasure from his thumb, rotating, slow, so slow, echoed by the deliberate brushes of his tongue against hers. She couldn’t breathe. All of her narrowed down to the feel of his tongue inside of her mouth, his thumb pressing, moving, before he plunged two fingers into her.

  “Jesus, Morgane…” Loki groaned again, finding her wet and liquid and hot. He pressed another finger into her, and dipping his head, closed his mouth over her throat, the hard press of his teeth against her flesh the turn of a key in a lock.

  Release roared through her, stiffening her spine, arching her up from the bed beneath him, her cry echoing around the room. Shuddering, she rode it out, his fingers stroking her the whole time, his mouth working a lazy, tantalizing track back up, capturing her mouth.

  “I’ve been waiting forever for this.” He growled into her ear, as he flipped her over. “And I’ve been thinking about this…” Pulling her up to her knees, hands feather-light on her hips, he spread her wide with his knees before running his hand down her spine, over the scars, pressing a light kiss at the base. In a single stroke, he filled her, inch by glorious inch, until he was fully seated. Then pulled out. Slowly. Pushed back in, a long, deep, wet slide, her moans muffled in the pillow. Wrapping an arm around her chest, Loki pulled her up against him, his question feathering her ear, “What do you want, Morgane?”

  “You. Only you.” She breathed, the words barely audible.

  He pulled out slowly. Thrust in again, harder this time, and she moaned, setting him on fire, so deep he felt it to his core. With each stroke of him, every thrust, the bond between them grew stronger, deeper, twining and echoing, tighter and tighter. Until it seemed they were one as he pounded into her, as she clung to him, as he pressed them closer, never slipping apart. She groaned out his name, pleasure pushing her along a sharp edge, so achingly close, then he roared hers, and she combusted, as they tumbled over the edge together.

  46

  Loki strode into the Throne Room, just in time to watch both ravens spiral away, their hollow cawing fading to a dull echo.

  Morgane was fast asleep again, and Odin…

  Odin had pulled a disappearing act. Except Loki knew he wasn’t really gone.

  “Get your ass out here and face me. Man up, you son of a bitch. Don’t make me come and hunt you down.” His words, like the crow’s calls, reverberated then died, the great hall absorbing every syllable until the silence was deafening. Yet, the room wasn’t empty.

  “I’ll burn this place to the ground, melt the girders and even the stone if I have to.” He went on, calmly enough, “Show yourself and let’s get this over with.”

  Odin exploded out of nowhere, a cloud of muscle and fists and steel, the edge of his blade barely missing Loki’s throat. He dodged easily to the side and spun away, throwing a lash of his blue-gold flame at Odin, knocking the knife from his hand, sending it skittering across the floor Odin landed on his feet, set back on his haunches, pulling a short sword out, looking as though he meant to use it. Loki lazily spun an orb of fire in one hand and waited. “You’re out of practice, my friend. Spending too much time sitting on your ass. Things didn’t turn out exactly the way you planned, did they?”

  “Depends on what you mean.”

  A slightly evil smile tugged at Loki’s mouth. “By that I mean you lost. Hel lost. I won. And since I did, I’m going to lay out my terms for you.”

  Dry, scoffing laughter was cut short as Loki flung Odin across the room and held him against the wall with a long, blue crackling flame. “One. Don’t fuck around with Morgane. Or her sister. Two. Don’t fuck with our alliance with the Dagda, it might come in handy down the road.”

  “Sounds simple enough. Anything else?”

  “Three. Stay away from Hel and the Underworld… Shit, stay away from everybody, you sociopathic bastard.” He stopped a minute before adding, for good measure, “Prick.”

  “Why the sister?” Odin’s question seemed genuinely curious.

  “Because I said so.”

  “If that’s not a bullshit answer, I don’t know what is.”

  “Because they’re my family now. Which means they’re moving in here, and you’re going to figure out how to stay out of their way. I find out different?” The flame around Odin’s neck turned white-hot. “You burn.” Loki dropped him to the floor.

  “Duly noted.”

  Loki was nearly to the door when Odin’s parting shot stopped him dead. “There will come a day when that girl will be the death of us all.”

  Loki found his bed empty and Morgane upstairs in Ava’s room. Both of them had tears
running down their faces. Both of them looking devastated. Speaking in such hushed whispers he almost turned around and left them alone. Almost.

  “Hope I’m not interrupting.” In truth, he wasn’t leaving this room empty handed. He was sick and tired of waiting to spend time with the woman in front of him. Awake and alive, fresh out of the bath and smelling glorious, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

  “We’re done here, anyway.” Ava’s clipped tone clearly told him they weren’t, adding he was, quite possibly an asshole.

  Morgane wiped her face, unfolded her feet from underneath her, and sent him an apologetic smile. “Ava. He’s spent every minute of the past few days taking care of me,” she gently scolded, begging him with her eyes for patience.

  “Good,” he shot back, offering Morgane his hand, “then you won’t mind if I steal her back for a couple of hours?”

  Something glinted in those navy eyes as Ava stared at their joined hands. She did nothing to mask the lazy, wicked smile that curled her lips as she flicked her velvet blue gaze up at him. Did nothing to hide the coiling blackness of pure, raw power in those cobalt depths as her smile grew wider. Even with the purple bruises beneath those eyes, even with her terrible thinness, Loki realized Ava hadn’t been stripped of her power at all.

  And suddenly, Loki knew exactly which sister Odin spoke of.

  47

  His heart in his throat, Loki watched his words take effect.

  “You’re asking me to live here? In the Tower, with you?”

  “Yeah. And Ava too. Both of you. I love you, I want you here with me. Besides, this is the safest place for you and your sister. If you want us to be official first, I’ll marry you whenever you wish. Any kind of service, you just tell me when and where, I’ll be there. But I want you here, with me. I’m not naive enough to expect my daughter to remain quiet for long. Retaliation is in her blood.”

  Morgane chewed her lip. “And then what?”

  “And then…?”

  “What am I supposed to do? Living here? Knit? Bake cookies?”

  He could think of a few things. “Sure, I like cookies. Chocolate chip, no nuts. But seriously, you can do whatever you want to do.”

  “How about I fight? With you?”

  That brought him up short.

  “You never know, maybe I can teach you guys a few things.” Her eyes turned mischievous. “Besides, we’ve got Mir to patch us up with his magic and anti-venom serum. What could go possibly wrong?”

  The mere thought of her out on the streets, fighting side by side with him and his brothers, face to face with the demons turned Loki’s stomach to lead. Forcing his heart to calm, a smile on his face, he agreed with an easy smile. “Sure. Sounds like a plan.”

  Besides, he had plenty of time.

  Weeks, he hoped, as he pulled the clip out of her hair and the damp curls fell around her expectant face, before he had to face that question. The demons were gone at the moment. Hel would behave for a while. Yeah, it would be weeks before this fighting thing became an issue. If not months, before they’d navigate that minefield.

  “Right now, though, fighting on the streets of Chicago is the very last thing I have on my mind. All I want is…” He spanned his hand across the nape of her neck and tipped back her head, running a thumb lazily along her jaw. “Is a few hours alone with you. Just you and me.” He walked her backward until the backs of her thighs hit the bed. “Say yes, Morgane. Say you’ll stay. Be with me. Marry me. Live with me.” He ran his lips up along her neck, grazing the skin until he reached the soft spot behind her ear.

  “Say I can fight,” she shot back, a stubborn set to her jaw. “Say that you won’t try to stop me.”

  So much for weeks.

  He didn’t let her go, kept her face turned toward his, searching her eyes before he answered. “We hunt in pairs, and since it wouldn’t be a good idea for the two of us to fight together—”

  “Damn it, Loki…”

  “…only because I would, most likely, do something incredibly stupid if we were out fighting together.” Kind of like he was about to do right now. “The problem is, it’s not up to me, it’s up to Tyr. When it comes to this war, what he says goes.” A moment’s pause. “But I’ll make sure he says yes. And Mir will partner with you.” His tone turned hard, unbendable. “But you will swear to me, right now, this very minute, to be careful. Vendetta time is over.

  “This is a war, and we are a team. No playing hero. No unnecessary risks. No defying orders. Those are my conditions. And that’s final.”

  “Agreed.” She rose to her toes and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “This was so much easier than I anticipated.” And with a squeal, she pulled him backward onto the bed and kissed him again, wild and hard and fast.

  Epilogue

  The stench of burnt skin still lingering, Hel padded naked down the steps to the deepest bowels of the Underworld. Back in the good old days, when she’d had time on her hands and liked to experiment occasionally with DNA, magic, and chance, this place had become a depository of sorts for her more exotic creations.

  Just because she’d been banished from the Earth, didn’t mean she couldn’t have a bit of fun. And the terms of the deal only stipulated her demons couldn’t roam the Earth. Didn’t say a thing about anything else. Her charred claw of a hand resting on the handle of the chosen door, she paused.

  Something else was down here.

  Which was crazy because nothing would be stupid enough to come down here.

  The air shifted, the shadows seemed to expand, and she breathed out a sigh. “Oh, it’s you.”

  Her hand resumed turning the knob, a deep growling emanating from the widening crack.

  Their whole, shitty deal should have ended with her being the queen of the universe but instead had left her burned to a crisp, and right back to where she’d started in the first place. Her voice rang hollow against the dripping walls as she pushed the door inward with a grinding squeal. Breathed in the stench of thousands of years of captivity, along with another low, hungry growl. “You know, you suck. You can crawl right back to whatever hole you came out of because I ended up with nothing.”

  She spat out, “And it cost me everything.”

  The god’s primordial essence encased her in smothering blackness. But then, something ran a sharp, pointed talon along her, curious, sensual, and questing. She began to thrash, even as his hold tightened. In the chamber, deep and resonant, as if the ancient being were trying its voice out for the very first time, a word formed, hung in the air between them.

  “Queen?”

  Yes, yes, that was the bargain. I’m to be your queen. Remember?

  Hel thought it, screamed it, maybe, battering against the grip that was crushing the life out of her. The door ground shut, and as the growling sound was cut off, Hel crumbled to the ground, alone, the darkness vanishing almost as fast as it had appeared.

  She held her shaking hand out in front of her.

  Gleaming, fresh skin cloaked her arm. She looked down at her body, reached up and touched her face. All of her, restored to exactly what she had been. Maybe even a bit improved. A slow smile curved her lips. “I don’t generally partner up with just anyone. But you seem to know exactly how to win a girl’s heart.”

  Thank you so much for reading!

  If you enjoyed Queen of Swords, please consider leaving a short review!!

  I would thank you from the bottom of my heart! L.A.

  The Banished Gods Series

  continues with The Moon.

  Keep reading to find out what happens next:

  The Moon

  Chapter 1/The Wolf

  Rain beat a steady cadence against the windows, the spring storm driven in by the wind off Lake Michigan. Flashes of lightening illuminated the room all around Fenrir in stark, ugly glory. It was sparse enough to be a monk’s room, but it belonged to Fen, and had, for over two hundred years. And would, for a hundred more, if his luck held out.

  Except lu
ck was something he never counted on.

  He’d been laying here for hours, waiting for the clouds to thin, waiting for the moon to show her face so he could shift into his wolf form and get off this mortal plane. Find some peace. The next flash of lightening blinded him, but even the white glare couldn’t stretch the full length of his lair. His rooms consisted of the south end of the seventh floor of the Phoenix Building, forty by a hundred feet of prime Chicago real estate. The arched, beamed ceiling soared a good thirty feet overhead. But it wasn’t vanity or arrogance that secured him this choice spot, it was simply safety. All this space bought him sanity. And the runes carved into the stone doorway and every single window frame bought the other immortal gods around him a good night’s sleep.

  Straightening up, Fen paced back and forth impatiently before sliding down the wall to stare out at the roiling sky. Just a flicker of moonlight was all he needed, was that too much to ask, really?

  When he woke the next morning with a hell of a headache and his back a mass of aching stiffness, the sky remained a sheet of Midwestern grey. Beneath it, the lake stretched out flat and unbroken, except for the jetty that cut across it like a knife, the inlet completely empty this time of year, none of the pretty white sailboats that the humans liked so much in sight.

  Not that he’d ever been sailing.

  Given that he’d been barricaded up here for weeks, he shouldn’t have been surprised when the pounding started up again. What surprised him was who. “Open the fucking door, wolf.” Tyr was the absolute last person he expected to come looking for him. The very last. After that whole debacle when he’d bitten the guy’s hand off three thousand years ago, Tyr steered clear of him. Fen leaned his forehead against the wall, praying that the gods would give him strength. Not so much for his sake, but for Tyr’s.