Loki's Game

by Siobhan Kinkade

  But Lily’s…that was too easy. He would recognize that strawberry-and-summer scent across dimensions. Certain now that he’d been spotted, Loki would likely hang close to her, and Rowan knew he could use her scent to find him.

  * * * * *

  The crowd had come, eaten, and observed. Now it was down to the last few stragglers, the true history buffs that wanted to either argue the mythological origins, or the new-age nuts that whole-heartedly believed. Lily banished the train of thought before she could bash either side. She wasn’t part of either crowd, yet she still wanted to dispute what she believed.

  And Rowan…his presence in the room was both a blessing and a burden. With him there she felt safe, but she was drawn to him like a moth to the proverbial flame. Her gaze shifted to him over and over, but Loren’s arm around her waist or his hand on her shoulder kept her rooted to the spot and his side.

  Careful of your actions, he’d warned early in the night, and so far she had heeded that warning well. But Rowan slipped from view, and her heart fell. It was over. Rowan had failed. Loren still walked free, and with every second that passed, Lily grew closer to losing everything.

  She had to get away from him, and had no idea how to do so. The safest bet was the storage room—claiming she needed cleaning supplies. Surely he wouldn’t follow her there, and if he did, she would still have a valid reason for taking so long.

  “I need to get ready for close-down,” she whispered to Loki.

  “I’ll come with you.”

  Damn. “Don’t be silly,” she sighed, trying to keep her voice light. “There are still patrons. One of us needs to be out here and I’m the one that’s at work.” Lily paused, then looked up at him, determined to play every card in her hand to get out if need be. “Besides, the storage room is nowhere near the door he just went out of.”

  Loki didn’t appear convinced, but he released his hold on her. Relief swept through her, and she pushed up on her toes to kiss his lips. The action surprised him; his eyebrows rose to his hairline.

  “I’ll be back in a minute,” she promised, and swept from the room before he could respond. She breathed a rattling sigh of reprieve as the storage doors closed behind her. The cleaner and rags sat on one of the boxes, but she stuffed them under a series of discarded table covers to buy some time. If he did come looking for her, she could claim what she needed had been misplaced.

  As expected, the door opened several moments later. Afraid to turn around, Lily busied herself by making a production of rifling through cabinets in search of her supplies.

  “Are we alone in here?”

  Lily froze, let that thick, rich voice pour over her. But…how had she not sensed him before? Simple. She was worrying, and trying not to pay attention to her surroundings.

  “Lily, look at me.” She paused, and slowly turned to face him. The sight of him was a welcome relief, and tears rushed to her eyes.

  “Rowan…thank God,” she breathed, and raced into his arms. The feel of his strong body against her broke open the flood gates. With tears streaming down her face, Lily dragged his face down and kissed him. In a moment of perfect happiness, their mouths met but it was…off. He tasted wrong. Maybe it was just stress, but it dawned on her as well that he wasn’t as warm as usual. It was cold outside, she knew, but that had never seemed to matter before.

  As the kiss drew to a close, she looked up at him. He was the same, except his eyes. Where she usually found passion and adoration, she found an odd lack of any emotion at all. The discovery tickled some buried thought that she couldn’t quite recall. Then his gaze swept over her, and her heart kicked up a beat. “I’ve missed you,” he said, voice low. He raised a hand to her face and drew his fingertips over her cheekbone. “I need you, Lily.”

  He lifted her from her feet and raised her to sit on a clear expanse of counter, stepping between her knees. His body pressed flush against hers, pushing her legs apart, and the slit in the side of her dress ripped almost to the hip. He didn’t seem to notice.

  “Rowan, this isn’t safe,” she protested as his lips descended on hers once more, silencing her argument. As his tongue swept over her bottom lip, though, she stopped caring. His mouth moved over hers, then to her cheek. He nipped at her ear, and licked a trail down her throat. When his fingers passed over the ring at her throat, it shivered.

  She and Rowan both froze. He looked at it, then passed his finger over it again. The band shivered again, vibrating against her skin. She lifted it to her gaze, turning it over in her fingers. It was as if his touch had triggered some hidden catch; small runes danced along the inside of the band. She glanced up at him, and as recognition dawned in his features, realization sprouted in her mind. The speech pattern was wrong…the roughness of his touch… Oh, God…

  This was not Rowan.

  This was Loki.

  He’d found the ring.

  Lily pushed him backwards and shimmied off the counter. “I need to get back out there,” she said, and went toward the spot where she’d stashed the cleaner.

  “Maybe I should hold on to the ring…in case he sees it.”

  She hedged. “I’m okay.”

  “Lily,” his voice held a warning. She could hear that now—the ice buried in his tone. The timbre was all wrong. She shivered.

  “I promise, Rowan. Let me close up, okay?”

  “Give me the ring.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you told me not to.”

  He hesitated. “Mistake,” he said. “It’s safer with me.” Again, a manner of speaking that was wholly unlike Rowan. Lily quickly uncovered the cleaner and shifted toward the door, but her path was blocked.

  Loki. As himself.

  “Give me the ring, Lily.”

  She couldn’t run. With no other option, as Loki advanced on her, she raised the bottle and sprayed the cleaner into his face. Even he was not fast enough to dodge the aerosol discharge completely. He shifted to one side, and clutched at his face, giving her the space she needed to throw open the door and run.

  Lily made it as far as the gallery before the heel on her right shoe snapped and pitched her into the floor. She scrambled, tangled in her torn dress. She couldn’t find her footing.

  A feline snarl broke the silence, and looming over her as she looked up was a huge, jet-black panther. Lily took a deep breath, and praying Rowan was close enough to hear as Loki’s four large paws stepped over her, pinning her to the floor, she screamed.

  * * * * *

  Bracing himself against the pain, Rowan pulled his power around himself like a cloak. Slivers of pain raced through his veins, twisting along muscle and bone as his body contorted and fur started to grow. Biting hard on his bottom lip to stifle the cry of agony associated with the shift, Rowan crouched toward the ground and let it take him.

  When he stood again, he stood on four strong, solid paws. The cold no longer registered against his skin, and the draft caught his fur in a soft rustle. The animal instinct rose in the center of his brain.

  Hunt.

  Kill.

  Protect his mate.

  Rowan growled, a low snarl that echoed up the stairwell, and nosed open the door. On the other side of the wall, soft music still played. Somewhere near the back of the building, Lily screamed, but the sound came to an abrupt halt.

  He sat back on his haunches, tipped his head to the ceiling, and howled. She was gone.

  * * * * *

  Lily closed her eyes and turned her face away. She knew her life was over, and yet her mind was strangely blank. Ignoring the wet puffs of breath on her cheek, she closed her hand around the ring and held tightly to it.

  The low growl in his throat intensified, and a sickening sense of vertigo slipped over her. The world felt as if it were toppling over and over itself, loosening her hold on reality. The air shifted and the musty scent of the gallery was replaced with the clean, fresh scent of forest and water. Lily’s eyes flew open, her heart racing, and in a
rush of fur the panther’s body flew across the room. His claws left a deep gouge in her shoulder, and the pain brought with it a wave of nausea that she fought hard to beat back.

  The first thing she discovered was blistering pain. The second thing was the bright light of day. Clutching her torn shoulder she struggled into a sitting position as Loki, nude and in human form, came toward her from the edge of the tree line with the stained broadsword in his hand. They were outside. During the day. But this outside was nothing like she had ever seen before. The bright light around her carried a fine, blue-green hue. Everything seemed larger here, including Loki.

  “W-where are we?” she asked, certain she didn’t want to know the answer.

  “Asgard,” Loki replied. “Away from that meddling wolf.”

  “Why have you brought me here?”

  “You have something I want.”

  “You aren’t getting the ring.”

  “We are in my land, sweetheart,” Loki said with a cruel laugh and stalked toward her. “There is little you can do to stop me here.” Letting go of her shoulder, Lily closed her hand around the ring. Loki, unfazed, stabbed the sword into the ground and knelt before her, his hand extended.

  “Give it to me.”

  “You’re going to have to kill me,” she said, sounding much braver than she felt.

  “That can be arranged,” he sneered and took hold of her wrist. Lily winced as he squeezed, popping the delicate bones with sudden, sharp pressure. She bit down hard on her lip to stifle her cry of pain, but she refused to let go of the small, gold band.

  As her resolve started to crumble, Lily closed her eyes and took a shallow, shuddering breath. Her hold faltered, the band slipping between her fingers. The sharp jerk of the chain stung her skin but Loki dropped her arm, having gained his bounty.

  A loud, banging crash echoed across the clearing, and Loki grunted. She lay there in the soft, dewy grass, cradling her ruined hand to her chest and listened to the sounds of battle. Someone yelped. And several heavy grunts issued forth. Lily turned toward the sound of the scuffle and forced her eyes open. A blur of tumbling fur and gnashing teeth greeted her. She could only discern the two by the colors of their pelts until Rowan caught Loki by the throat and flung him to the ground, bringing one large paw down against his head.

  The wolf flew backwards, and Lily lost the fight again. Over and over Rowan was beaten back, bitten, raked. His strength was failing; she had to do something. Lily glanced around terrified. The sword stood in the ground next to her but she couldn’t wield it one-handed. It was too big.

  The exhausted yelp from Rowan kicked her into motion. He was pinned.

  Fighting her own pain, Lily jerked the blade from the ground and dragged it toward the fight. She tried to raise it, but she was too weak.

  And Loki saw her. He lunged for her and she rolled away, dropping the weapon. Screaming, she tried to flee, but his teeth sank into her already damaged shoulder. A weak gurgle echoed up her throat as he released her and swatted her.

  She rolled away, the world a blur. Her side hit a stone buried in the grass, and shards of pain shot up and down her body. Then the pain stopped, replaced by a strange numbness and the floating feeling of timelessness. The world around her seemed to slow down into minute-long seconds. Everything appeared suspended in clear gel, taking effort to keep moving forward.

  “Loki.” The authoritative tone in Rowan’s voice cut through the haze and she turned her head. Everything sped up again, the sudden burst of energy making her head spin. The panther poised above her, set to strike, turned its head toward him. She looked past Loki to Rowan standing across the clearing, human, naked, and holding Gram. The panther turned and lunged and the blade came down, severing its head from its shoulders with one clean sweep.

  With that, the world went dark.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Lily woke some time later to near silence. Her head ached, and for a moment she could not remember where she was. Recognition was slow as it returned. She remembered a fight. The panther. Rowan’s voice. Then…nothing.

  “Lily?”

  Her eyes rolled around in her head, searching through the bright light until she found the source of the voice. Rowan floated above her, a disembodied face in the haze. She clung to his image; used it to pull herself back to reality. His arm was under her neck; his hand cradled her head. Every line of his face held worry.

  “There you are,” he said, relief flooding his voice.

  “What’s going on?” Her voice sounded ruined and rusty.

  “I thought I had lost you.” Lily tried to sit up as he spoke, but pain ripped through her side from her spine to her chest. Her mouth opened in a silent scream as the breath rushed from her lungs. “Hey, easy,” he chided, and guided her curling body back to rest. “You were banged up pretty bad when he threw you. You might have broken a rib or two.”

  “Huh?” she gasped, still trying to both catch her breath and catch up.

  “When Loki—” he started, and it all came rushing back. Despite the screaming agony throughout her body, she bolted upright, looking around.

  “Oh, God,” she whined as her eyes found the body across the glen, “he’s…”

  “Dead.” After everything he’d said and done—all the lies, the threats, and the cruelty—Lily still felt tears puddle in the corners of her eyes. They threatened to spill down her cheeks as Rowan’s arm closed around her, careful of her side. “I do not believe it,” he said wondrously, tipping her face up. “After all the things he has done to you, you still want to weep for him.”

  “He wasn’t all bad, Rowan…just selfish.” She wiped a tear away before it had time to properly escape and blinked the rest away. “He was also attentive and generous.”

  “And a thief, Lily.” Rowan’s voice had gone cold and hard. Jealous.

  “So are others, but we don’t go around cutting their heads off.”

  He smiled, and traced her jaw with a fingertip. “You are so tenderhearted.” He pulled her close and kissed her forehead. He smelled of sweat. Tiny drops of blood littered his skin, and that was when she realized he was still very much naked. She didn’t have time to dwell on it though, because the sound of approaching footsteps echoed around them. She whimpered and fought against Rowan to get to her feet. He kept her down and still, and she quickly gave up the fight in favor of not moving to ease the pain.

  She took a breath and clutched at her side as pain tore through it again. Pants of air came in short gasps as Rowan balanced her against his chest, and she whined as the sound of a cane thumping across the ground moved close and closer. She opened her mouth to speak, only to let loose a fountain of blood from her lips. Lily cast her horrified stare up at Rowan. “You’re naked,” she whispered, her strength failing. Hysteria rose as she once again located Loki’s body, lying in a heap in the grass. Blood smeared the grass, the rocks, the sword, and their bodies. Her favorite dress was ruined.

  “We need help,” Rowan bellowed, rattling her eardrum and making her wince. She would have shied away from the sound, but a new, stabbing agony started in her side and nearly took her breath away.

  “I am not here as a spectator,” an old voice answered. Beside her, Rowan tensed as a man that very much matched the voice hobbled into view. His wild, white hair and beard drew her eyes, and in a moment of madness, she giggled and thought he looks like Santa Claus! The hysterical laughter quickly died as she took in the stark, black patch over one eye and the sad set to his grizzled, old jaw. He moved like a man exhausted with life, but not quite able to die. Something told her she should know who he was, but she couldn’t quite place him. Then Rowan dropped to one knee, bowing his head as he pressed his right fist to his heart in salute, and Lily’s breath caught in her throat.

  “All-Father,” Rowan said, his voice calm and reverent, confirming her sudden fear. The Old God. The old man responded in a language Lily did not understand. A niggling voice at the back of her mind told her she should fear this ma
n for what power he did not show, but the exhaustion from the day’s events was enough to wipe any sense of self-preservation from her mind.

  When Rowan responded in the same foreign tongue, Lily gave up trying to understand anything at all and laid her head back against the ground with a thump.

  * * * * *

  “So it is done,” Odin said. Rowan noted the hint of sadness in his voice, and could not stop the pang of guilt that ripped through him.

  “Yes. The monster is slain.” For one short moment, Rowan questioned his actions; wondered if the decision was just.

  “I am sorry to hear of my brother’s death,” the old man replied, and Rowan cringed. “However, his actions were rash and your decision was justified.” Rowan released a pent-up breath, and with it, centuries of frustration, determination, and agony. It was finally over. “To make an attempt on the life of one’s mate is the worst crime. Worse even, I believe, than thievery, trickery, and the list of other crimes of which the old fool was guilty.” A deep sigh rumbled from Odin. “I dare say this is my fault,” he continued, and the admission surprised Rowan. “Had I not bade him make an excuse for the death of that boy, he would not have felt the need to steal the treasure. Granted,” he chuckled softly, “Loki likely would have found a reason to go after it on his own, so I suppose my guilt is a bit silly.” The old man thumped forward on his cane and laid a hand on top of Rowan’s head. Rowan wasn’t sure what he expected from the oldest of the gods, but a cold, human touch was not it. “Rise, my son.”

  Pride rippled through his chest as he stood. To have knelt in the presence of Odin the All-Father, to have been absolved of the death of an Old God, and to have risen as a son of Asgard…the burn of tears threatened his eyes.

  “I must say,” Odin said, and Rowan saw Lily’s eyes widen—he realized that Odin had spoken in English, “your assessment of my dear brother is quite wrong, Rowan.”

  “Brother?” Lily squeaked, and the absolute truth that she wanted to avoid slammed into her. “You’re…”