Loki's Game

by Siobhan Kinkade

  Odin.

  “Yes, child,” he confirmed. “I am afraid you have found me out.” A coy smile danced around his lips, and he leaned heavily on the stick he carried. Rowan watched the exchange with great humor—he had tried to warn her about the existence of these beings, but she seemed to resolutely ignore everything he had to tell her…until now. She struggled to sit up as she listened. “I only ask that you do not hold poor Loki’s greed against me. Sadly, this mess is all my doing. I thought him quite amusing at the time, but never did I imagine so many innocents would die for his selfish pride.”

  Rowan looked over at Lily again, and noticed that her skin was a bit paler than before, and a thin sheen of sweat had broken out across her forehead. “Are you all right?” he asked, and knelt to slip an arm around her shoulders. She turned to rubber in his grasp, but when he moved to pull her into his arms, she cried out in pain and collapsed back to the ground. He started to reach for her again, but a heavy hand came down on his wrist, stopping him.

  “Let me.” He hesitated, and turned his face toward the old man. “She is hurt far worse than you think.”

  * * * * *

  Lily scarcely registered the exchange outside the crackling, electric pain in her side. When she tried to sit up something popped, and took the very breath out of her lungs. Her insides felt heavy and liquid, and it was all she could do to draw in each shallow breath around the pain. Even her heartbeat turned sluggish.

  Heavy hands came down on her arm and her side and above her muffled voices argued. Lily couldn’t understand them. She couldn’t really understand anything but the pain, and even that was fading with every labored breath.

  A slow, lingering warmth spread from those hands, reaching deep into muscle and bone. Lily was vaguely aware of shifting inside, and the recession of the heaviness, and then blissful dark. Voices were soft and distant, and though she was aware they were speaking of her, it didn’t matter.

  Loki was dead. Rowan was free. And Odin himself had just performed some sort of miracle on her. That was enough for one day.

  * * * * *

  Rowan had no idea what to do. All he could see was that Lily was hurt, dying even. In a moment of panic, he turned toward the old god before him and went down on his knees.

  “Please, All-Father, what can I do to help her?”

  The old man brushed his hands together and stood, leaning heavy on his staff. “She has three broken ribs. Her lung was punctured by one when she sat up, but that damage has been repaired. It could happen again.” He fixed Rowan with a pointed stare. “She needs a healer. A mortal hospital.”

  His jaw worked like a broken hinge for a moment. “I cannot get her back on my own. My power is not that great.”

  “Take her up. We must make haste to Heimdall. He will send you home.”

  “That is all well and good, but…how do I explain the injuries?” Rowan asked as he lifted her limp body. Odin smiled down at him, his old eyes twinkling.

  “Explain it for what it was. A panther attack.”

  “But I should not move her.” He glanced around and cringed at the destruction. “How do I explain what happened?” Then it hit him. Just because he and Lily knew Loki was the same panther people had reported didn’t mean everyone else in Savannah did. Odin chuckled.

  “Glad to see that brain of yours still works, boy.”

  “But…there is no panther on the other side.”

  Odin glanced around as if confused, frowned, and lay his chin atop his hands, balanced on the staff. “So I see. Well, perhaps it is time to admit that Loki is not the only one prone to a bit of trickery.” Again, his one visible eye sparkled with mischief. “I will not divulge all my secrets, but suffice it to say your panther problem will be quite solved by the time you get her into the hands of medical professionals.”

  Rowan did as he was told and stood, cradling the battered, whimpering girl to his chest. The old man started forward, pausing long enough to stand over Loki’s dead form, sadness curling his lips down.

  “My poor, foolish brother. Loki, you should have known better than to take that which was not yours.” Then, chuckling as if proud of himself, Odin closed the distance between them and laid two fingers against Lily’s forehead.

  “Whatever you tell the human police, so will be her story too.” He knelt and picked up the ring from the grass at Rowan’s feet and, with it clasped in his hand stood and turned. “It is long past time for this to return to its rightful owner, don’t you think?” Rowan nodded, a small bubble of panic rising at the sight of his ward in the hands of someone else. Odin laughed. “You worry too much, boy. Andvari and his children are long gone.” He turned Rowan’s palm up and laid the ring in it. “This little trinket has caused your family much trouble, and I am sorry to say it was my doing. The treasure and this ring were part of a payment made by Loki and me to your great-great grandfather for the death of his son.” He closed Rowan’s fingers around the cold, metal band. Bringing one hand down on his shoulder, Odin squeezed gently. “Keep this safe, and keep it in the family. You are free to live your life as you see fit now. I have done my part; the rest is up to you, my son. You have come this far…do not let me down now.” Rowan felt something stir in his chest as Odin limped away, looking older and much more frail than he did when he entered the glade. There was only one thing left he wanted—no, needed—to do.

  “All-Father, I have one more question.”

  He stopped and smiled. “The answer to that question has been right in front of you all along. You will find proof when you return to your world. Now turn north and make haste. Heimdall waits for you.” And in a flash of light, Odin was gone. Rowan opened his hand and looked down at the gold band in his palm. So much trouble over such a little thing…so many years, and so many lives. He slipped it over the tip of his little finger—it was much too small to fit his hands properly—and limped forward, his right leg tender after his scuffle with Loki.

  He broke through the tree line as Lily’s whimpers and cries turned to low, gurgling groans. A thin line of blood trickled from her lips toward her shoulder. Frightened by the sight, Rowan picked up his pace, running toward the white marble pedestal where the bifrost stood, a gleaming gold-and-stone portal guarded by the tall man with the ivory horn. Heimdall nodded and lifted the horn to his lips as Rowan approached, and as the low, melancholy sound echoed around them the portal opened, allowing access back to Midgard, and more specifically, Savannah, Georgia.

  “Thank you,” Rowan said as he darted into the swirling vortex. His grip on Lily tightened as his sense of balance pitched forward and spit him into the center of the ruined art gallery. He laid Lily carefully on the ground and pulled back the shredded scraps of her dress, but before he could properly assess her injuries paramedics pushed him to the side. He stepped back, glancing sidelong at the dead panther lying inside the foyer, then turned and paced in circles. At some point, Odin had seen fit to give him clothes—he did not remember putting them on and suspected he hadn’t. As the emergency team loaded Lily onto a stretcher, he paced over to the one remaining upright case. Lying atop a stand, untouched except for the litter of glass fragments in its spine, was his father’s book. Scrawled in his father’s hand across the tattered old page were the three words he’d hoped to find all along.

  The Mating Ritual

  Rowan breathed a sigh of relief and glanced over at Lily injured and being wheeled toward the waiting ambulance, but alive and free. The police officer with the notebook approached, prepared to ask questions of Rowan, but he didn’t mind. All he cared about was that Lily was going to be all right.

  And when she was well again, he would make her his.

  Epilogue

  Eight weeks later…

  Lily glanced down at the cold, golden band around her left ring finger. She’d nearly died trying to protect the damn thing, so it seemed a fitting way to end its journey, but still…why the hell was she so nervous? She’d already slept with Rowan a dozen or more times. Sh
e’d been attacked by a god, saved by another, and grilled by the police about some wild panther attack that she knew wasn’t the truth, yet had no problem at all lying about. True, she still had moments of panic when she thought Loki would come back to get her—after all, he’d escaped death so many times before. So why exactly was her stomach in knots over this one little ceremony?

  Because her life was changing.

  Lily’s mother fussed over her, twirling her curls just so, fluffing the hem of her gown in preparation for the pictures that she so dreaded. When she’d called her mother to tell her the happy news (“Mom, I’m getting married!”), she hadn’t expected quite this reaction. Donna Redway had jumped on the first plane back to Savannah, practically levitated as she welcomed Rowan into the family, and then spent the next three weeks shamelessly spending Rowan’s money on the wedding of the century.

  “Mom, that’s enough,” Lily ordered, to no avail. Her mother snorted and continued her duties.

  “Mrs. Redway,” Rowan cooed, “Lily is beautiful no matter how you organize her hair. She is your masterpiece, and she is perfect just the way she is.” The older woman visibly swooned, and Lily rolled her eyes. She’d heard the ancient and sometimes archaic flattery so much that she had grown immune to it. Her mother, however was still prone to his genteel, masculine wiles. With a groan, Lily elbowed Rowan in the ribs, and was rewarded with a muffled oof for her trouble.

  “Suck-up,” she whispered as the photographer herded them into place. He smiled and kissed her forehead.

  * * * * *

  With the wedding and reception done, Rowan swept her up and all but ran up the stairs in his house, his lips dancing along her jaw and throat with each step. A deep rumble echoed out of his chest, and Lily’s heart beat out a hard, unsteady rhythm.

  She’d married him. What was the big deal?

  The big deal was the raw power coursing through and around him. The air shimmered just as it had when she watched him shift. A small kernel of terror rose in her throat at the thought of his beastly nature, but it was a little late for that.

  No, what frightened her more than anything was the way that power reached out for her, called to her, pulled her in. It wanted her because he wanted her. Because she had agreed to marry him, to be his mate. To be bound to him forever.

  “You realize you got off way too easy, right?” Lily asked as he ascended the stairs. Rowan’s chest rumbled with laughter.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You tricked me.”

  He stopped. His face turned serious, and his arms started to shiver. Lily feared for a moment he might drop her. “How so?”

  “Well,” she said, her voice thin and reedy, “you promised me a job, instead you almost got me killed.”

  Rowan roared with laughter and pushed into the bedroom. Gently, he placed her on the bed, careful of both her still tender ribs and her dress—all of it, she thought with a groan—and tipped her face up to his.

  “I did not almost get you killed. Your stubborn pride did that.”

  “But you could have been honest.”

  “I tried, but you refused to let me, remember?” He smiled at her. “If you really feel that way…” He stood and moved like he would leave the room. Lily grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

  “No,” she said a little too fast, “but I am going to hold it against you for a long time.”

  “Oh, I hope you do. I hope you hold everything against me.” Lily snorted and swatted at him.

  “You’re such a goofball. That’s not what I mean.”

  “Oh, then by all means, please elaborate.”

  “You owe me, big boy.”

  “So you want me to grovel?” he asked, going down on one knee with a wicked smile.

  “For starters.”

  “And beg your forgiveness?”

  Lily chewed the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. She looked away, hoping he took it as frustration and not a means of keeping her humor at bay. “That’s more like it,” she said, forcing her voice to stay even.

  “Then let me try this,” he said, and turned her face back to his. His demeanor was still and serious, and his pale eyes shone with love. “Lily Keir,” he said, voice no louder than a whisper. She shivered at her new name. “You have agreed to become my mate. Do you understand the responsibility that comes with such an agreement?”

  She had the momentary thought that she should tell him this was silly, but she couldn’t. This was serious, the way of his people. She could give him everything he wanted, and exactly the way it needed to happen. She let her smile unfurl as she met his steady gaze.

  “I do.”

  “Do you give yourself willingly to me, mind, body, and soul?” he asked.

  “I do.” Again she felt the brush of power along her skin, a crackling, electric current that tugged at her senses.

  “I give to you of myself everything I have. Mind, body, and soul. Do you accept me?”

  “I do.” The swirl of energy grew stronger around her. The hairs on her arms and across the back of her neck stood on end. He took hold of her, his big hands clasped around her wrists. Instinct took over. She turned her hands and held his arms in the same fashion. “Do you accept me?”

  He smiled. “I do.”

  “Then make me your mate.”

  A thin, weak groan issued from his throat as he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. Lily slid her arms around his neck and pulled him to her, lying backwards. His weight came down on her, and whatever this power was surrounding them closed in, enveloping them in each other. With each touch of his hand or brush of his lips, the bond between them grew stronger, turned into something tangible. And as he entered her, their souls bonded, twining together into one being. For a moment time stretched out before her, and she knew, as she did the moment she laid eyes on him, that he was the one. His fingers threaded through hers and clasped her hand, using it as leverage when he moved over her. She cried out in pleasure and the fear of this commitment dissipated, leaving only glowing warmth in her chest and a feeling of euphoria coursing through her body.

  Together they cried out, a single voice of release, and as he rolled to his side and gathered her into his arms, she could feel him nestled safely in her heart. Her husband. Her mate.

  “Lily?”

  “Yes, Rowan?”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  “Forever?”

  Lily sighed and curled into his side. She lay her cheek against his chest and listened to the strong sound of his heartbeat. She could never remember being happier. “Forever.”

  About the Author

  Siobhan Kinkade originally started out as a Dungeons & Dragons character.

  True story.

  She was an obnoxious little blonde-haired, violet-eyed half-elf rogue who had a bad habit of screaming at random and stealing things from her fellow travelers. She was chaotic neutral, so it pretty much meant she never had to say she was sorry.

  She made the transition from fantasy RPG character to fantasy literary character in 2011. Speculative fiction author S.H. Roddey wrote a story out of her usual genre, and she decided she needed a pen name rather than confuse her audience. Naturally, Siobhan stepped up and said she’d take the blame. Since then, Siobhan has learned to be a little less of a kamikaze even if she never grew out of being a walking calamity.

  The romance is strong with this one. Some is sweet and some is spicy. It’s about half and half on the paranormal and contemporary fields, and all of it is quite good. Of course, if you were to ask Siobhan, she’d likely tell you that her creator didn’t have a thing to do with it.

  Oh, and for those who aren’t sure, it’s pronounced Shi-von.

  Blog: siobhankinkade.wordpress.com

  Twitter: @siobhankinkade

  Facebook: www.facebook.com/AuthorSiobhanKinkade

  Other Titles

  by Siobhan Kinkade

  It is almost the full moon, and werewolf Mira Winte
rborn is feeling restless. Research has failed her, and she is convinced that no matter what happens, there is no way to stop the change. But when her best friend invites her out for a late night on the town, she finds herself drawn to the bad-boy in the corner as a likely candidate for a final experiment. Unfortunately, he’s there to kill her.

  Rune Morwyn is a hunter, working to repay a blood debt. Mira is to be his last mark, but she makes him a bizarre offer that seems too good to be true. Is the wild attraction between them enough to upset her curse, and what will happen if he lets his normally guarded heart go?

  Available now from Purple Sword Publications.

  Public relations specialist Anna Scott has been sent on an assignment from Hell. As punishment for a previously botched job, she is sent from Raleigh, North Carolina to Clemson, South Carolina in the middle of the summer to photograph an agricultural fair. During her stay she hooks up with a sexy cowboy on the rebound for one night of passion. Two weeks later she is contracted for a job in rural Georgia that will change her life.

  Wesley Hall, Jr. is still reeling from the recent split from his fiancée, Deb, after catching her in bed with another man. When his father hires the sexy photographer from The New Reporter in Raleigh to launch a PR campaign for the Homegrown Ranch, he can’t decide if it’s his lucky day or his worst nightmare. When Anna arrives at the Homegrown, they pick up right where they left off, caught in the throes of a passionate and intense affair. Deb still works for Wes’ father, and she can’t let go of her power or her old flame. When the rumors start flying, all eyes immediately point to Anna.

  She has two options: to leave it alone and go home, or fight for her love.

  Available now from Purple Sword Publications.