Gods on Earth: Complete Series (Books 1-3): Paranormal Romances with Norse Gods, Tricksters, and Fated Mates

by Andrijeski, JC

  When Maia gathered up her school books and backpack, dragging them back towards the French doors, Lia smacked Loki on the chest again, even as he grinned at her through the designer sunglasses, his long hair hanging nearly to his shoulders, but shorter than when she’d first met him.

  He looked almost “European” now, versus full-blown barbarian.

  Loki pushed her aside and stood up from the lounger before she could really lay into him. She watched him walk to the French doors and close them, pulling across a set of curtains they’d had installed on the outside.

  Lia watched, eyebrows raised, as he dragged one of the palm tree pots in front of the outward-opening doors, making it so Maia couldn’t surprise them.

  “We could go inside, you know,” Lia remarked, watching him with some amusement. “Rather than giving the neighbors a show.”

  “Oh, I can glamour us for that. Don’t want to traumatize the little tot, though, if she comes up here and finds us missing…”

  Shaking her head bemusedly, Lia watched him walk back to her.

  She couldn’t help noticing, not for the first time, he had the strange, catlike, verging-on-feral step that she’d noticed on his brother, Tyr.

  If anything, Loki moved even more like that.

  It was as if he moved through the edges of life, only visible when he wanted to be.

  “Are you missing your cat-burglar ways, my love?” he asked her, watching her look at him. “Are you tempted to pick my pocket right now?”

  “I’m wondering how long before you get bored, my little love-bunny,” she told him wryly, realizing as she said it that the worry was real.

  It nagged at some part of her, tugging at the back of her mind.

  It had, more or less, since she’d met him.

  “You don’t seem like one for the domestic life…” she added apologetically.

  Loki looked faintly appalled. He threw himself down on the sun lounger next to her, without taking his eyes off her face.

  “Are you disappointed in my parenting skills, love?” he said. “For real? I thought this tug of war of ours was all in good fun.”

  “No.” Lia shook her head, sighing. “That’s not it. Not at all.”

  She met his gaze when he lifted his sunglasses to his forehead, watching her worriedly.

  “Maia adores you,” Lia added. “She positively adores you. I think that’s what worries me. If you couldn’t do this anymore, she would be devastated.”

  “She would be devastated?” He frowned, looking even more worried.

  “I would be devastated,” Lia corrected. “We would be devastated.”

  Loki blinked, staring at her.

  “Is this a regular worry of yours?” he said. “My leaving you?”

  Lia tilted her head, sliding back onto his chest, caressing the parts of it exposed by the open shirt. “It’s crossed my mind,” she admitted.

  Wrapping his arm around her, he tugged her higher up his body, sliding a hand around her face, and into her hair. He kissed her mouth, pulling on her with his tongue and lips, coaxing her into him as he deepened the kiss.

  By the end of it, by the time he pulled away, Lia’s skin felt hot all over. She was out of breath, her eyes half-lidded as she looked at him.

  “That’s not helping,” she told him, smiling.

  “Isn’t it?”

  “Giving me more things to miss if you left?” she said. “No.”

  He smiled at her wanly.

  Then his eyes, mouth and voice abruptly grew stern, uncompromising. He gripped her hair in his fingers, staring up at her eyes.

  “I love you, little elf,” he told her, shaking her hair and head lightly in his fingers. “I love you very, very much. Do you love me?”

  Lia swallowed, looking into those leaf-green eyes.

  “You’ve never said that to me before,” she said. “I mean, jokingly, sure, to Maia––”

  “You think I am joking when I tell Maia I love you? Or when I tell her that I love her?”

  Lia frowned. “You tell Maia that?”

  “Of course I tell Maia that! What kind of terrible parent do you think I am?”

  Lia blinked at him. “It’s just… you never really said it to me. Not like this, I mean. Not when we’re alone, and you’re being remotely serious.”

  “Which, clearly, was an egregious error… one that’s caused you to entirely misunderstand my purpose in being here, on this world. Apparently you humans need everything spelled out in neon lights. I may have a parade for you, Lia Winchester… right down the Avenue des Champs-Élysées, with elephants, and jugglers, and dancing bears. A mariachi band and several French crooners singing my undying love. At least one rap band detailing how I would love to defile you for the rest of my days…”

  When Lia burst out in a laugh, smacking his chest, he smiled.

  “Did you really not understand the deal I made with my brothers? Or why?” he said, watching her eyes. “Come now, dearest. I thought it was clear to you, just how momentous that decision was for me.”

  Lia sighed a bit.

  “Your decision not to take over the world, you mean?” she said.

  “Precisely.”

  When she snorted a laugh, Loki shook her again lightly, bringing her eyes back to his.

  “Lover,” he said, soft, kissing her mouth. “You laugh, but I really did feel my father had made a tremendous mistake with your world and your species.”

  Pausing as he studied her eyes, he added,

  “YOU, Lia Winchester, made me actually believe in my father’s experiment. For the first time, I saw the benefits of this free will of yours, despite the chaos and war, the horrid things done to your oceans and rivers, the disgusting smoke in most of your air. Despite the rank stupidity of many in your race. Despite the destruction they cause when they operate unchecked. Despite the dangers to our little rabbit downstairs because of it…”

  Lia smiled, brushing the hair off his neck, massaging the top of his chest.

  “You really are okay, being with us for a while?” she said, soft.

  “I love you,” he repeated.

  Looking around them in exasperation, he threw up his hands.

  “I’m definitely having the parade. Maybe a forty-gun salute. With pirate ships. And fireworks at the end of the night… with cannons firing their weapons into the sea.”

  Laughing, Lia smacked him, but he caught ahold of her face, pulling her closer.

  They kissed for longer that time, and Lia found herself flushing for real, her hands exploring Loki where he lay under her, until he was groaning against her mouth, pressing against her urgently as he began to undress her.

  He had the halter-top off, the bra on the cement balcony floor, not far from the white stone pillars with vines wrapped around them. He unfastened her pants next, and she sat up to help him get them off, even as she tugged his shirt off his muscular shoulders, making him gasp when he pulled her up against him.

  Her heart was beating so hard now, she could almost hear it.

  When she glanced up, he was looking at her, his green eyes serious, stripped of any of that wry humor she usually saw there, or the more mischievous look he often wore.

  His fingers rose to her face.

  He used the back of them to trace her cheek and jaw, caressing her softly.

  That more serious look burned hotter as he looked at her.

  “I adore you,” he told her, studying her eyes. “I absolutely adore you, little elf… and I would be devastated if we were ever separated. I’m already hatching schemes whereby I might extend your life to that of a god’s. Or perhaps find some way to have you reincarnate into Asgard, as my brother wishes with his human wife.”

  Lia swallowed, studying his face.

  She saw no lie there.

  Nothing in that radar of hers told her he was lying, or that anything was wrong.

  As she watched him look at her, a smile broke out over her face.

  That part of her that normally
sat coiled, waiting for some kind of disaster to strike, for some person she loved to leave her––like her father had, then her mother, then everyone else she’d let herself trust––wound around Loki like a cat, purring contently.

  “I belong to you, little elf,” he told her, kissing her tenderly on the mouth. “I belong to you as long as you’ll have me. Perhaps longer than you would wish.”

  Kissing her again, he withdrew his head so he could look at her.

  His eyes remained faintly worried, she noticed.

  As if he read her thoughts, the God of Mischief added,

  “Now stop worrying me! Stop making me paranoid I’m a bad mate, and a worse husband and father, or I’ll throw a parade for you every day for the next ten years, trying to prove it to you… which will cut into our sex time horribly, and likely Maia’s education fund, despite my ample money-making talents…”

  Lia burst out in a laugh, wrapping her arms around his neck, and Loki kissed her again.

  That time, he didn’t stop for quite a long time.

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  Copyright © 2021 by JC Andrijeski

  Published by White Sun Press

  Cover Art & Design by Sylvia Frost of The Book Brander (2020)

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  1

  The Meeting

  T yr sat at a human bar, in a human drinking establishment, in a human city.

  Which meant, naturally, he was on the human world.

  The brother he hadn’t expected to see, at least not anytime soon, and certainly not in any kind of work capacity, called to him the day before.

  He proposed he and Tyr meet.

  Tyr looked around at the location Loki had given him, and frowned.

  The location itself wasn’t the problem.

  A hole-in-the-wall pub, in Paris’ University District, the bar presented as comfortable and private enough. It wasn’t Loki’s usual sort of place, but that certainly didn’t bother Tyr.

  The God of Mischief tended to gravitate towards flashier, more expensive, and frankly gaudier places, from Tyr’s remembrances. Loki also generally preferred sitting outside, in the sun, or at least under excellent lighting; he put a fair bit of thought into entrances and presentation in general, which required the right clothing and illumination.

  Thor used to mutter that the God of Mischief could easily have been named God of the Sun, if he wasn’t such an annoying and unapologetically irredeemable wanker.

  Of course, Thor muttered such things less, these days.

  Tyr himself had no quarrel with a neighborhood bar, filled with guests who mostly kept to themselves, who weren’t there to be seen.

  No, it was Loki himself who caused Tyr to frown.

  His brother, his normally cheerful, happy-go-lucky, give-no-shits brother––maddeningly so, from some in the family’s perspective––had sounded uncharacteristically serious, even somber, when Tyr finally reached him over an Earth telephone.

  Tyr wasn’t sure he wanted to know what brought that urgency to Loki’s voice, or the worry he’d felt in his brother’s heart in the short time they spoke.

  Whatever was on Loki’s mind, it concerned him enough that he’d felt the need to meet with Tyr in person. Granted, Loki asked Tyr to come to Paris––where Loki currently lived––versus offering to go to Tyr himself, but still, even with that exceedingly Loki-like detail, it was strange.

  Loki had changed though, in the last few months.

  The God of Mischief had a new life, with a brand-new human wife, and even a sort of daughter, in the form of his new wife’s young sister and ward.

  Tyr wondered if Loki’s new family might be the real reason for his brother’s worry.

  Clearly, the stakes had changed for the God of Mischief when it came to Earth. The stakes had changed even more dramatically regarding the fate of the human race.

  The fact that Loki called Tyr suggested a few things in Tyr’s mind already.

  Loki likely feared some conflict was afoot, and wanted Tyr to put a stop to it.

  It wasn’t an outrageous request. Being the God of War, most assumed Tyr’s job was to foster conflict.

  In fact, Tyr’s primary job was to avoid it.

  It seemed a never-ending task, like rolling a boulder up a steep mountain, as Sisyphus did in that myth of the Greeks… or doing the dishes, or laundry, or simply keeping oneself fed on a world such as this one, where food was required.

  Of course, Loki knew Tyr’s true role.

  If Loki was bringing something to Tyr, it likely meant Loki found something he felt could be problematic to the relative stability of Earth’s human world.

  Perhaps even catastrophic.

  Tyr checked his human watch, which was expensive, silver, and went with the tailored human suit he wore to blend in on Earth.

  Loki was late.

  Tyr was about to call out to his brother, to see if he was within psychic earshot, when the door to the drinking establishment opened with a bang, and a tall man with black and auburn streaked hair walked in, wearing a long coat, dark green pants and a matching jacket, a black dress shirt, black tie, Italian boots, a gold watch and cufflinks.

  Loki’s haircut alone looked like it cost an indecent amount, possibly even several hundred Euros.

  As per usual, the God of Mischief managed to both blend in and dramatically stick out.

  He had the human schtick down perfectly, perhaps a little too well.

  Loki also drew eyes as a matter of course, for all kinds of reasons. Some element of Loki’s make-up drank that attention in, which only encouraged it more.

  His pale green eyes scanned the inside of the human establishment, then lit upon Tyr.

  A smile curved that full mouth, one that didn’t reach his leaf-green eyes.

  He walked briskly in Tyr’s direction.

  Reaching him in seconds, the God of Mischief folded himself elegantly onto the barstool next to his brother, resting his arms on the wooden bar. Invisible under the long-sleeved coat, Tyr happened to know those forearms, along with the god’s chest, were decorated with black and gold Asgardian runes.

  Knowing Loki, they were also likely tanned from the sun, and adorned with significantly more expensive jewelry than Tyr’s.

  “Thank you for meeting me, brother,” Loki said.

  Something about the way Loki spoke always verged on dry humor, even sarcasm.

  Tyr honestly couldn’t always tell if his brother was being sincere. Rather than attempt to puzzle out the difference, he generally took Loki’s words at face value.

  “Of course,” he said politely. “You said you have something for me, brother? Something important you wished to share?”

  “Ah. Yes. All business, Brother Tyr.”

  The God of Mischief dug his hand into the long coat he wore, and produced a small, black object with a silver connector.

  “It is my wife’s,” Loki explained, placing it carefully down on the counter. “The last job she did for that horrible human who was blackmailing her. In Los Angeles.”

  Tyr nodded, frowning down at the object on the bar.

  It was a human memory stick.

  For a computer.

  “What is on it?” Tyr said. “Can you tell me?”

  Loki frowned, his hand and wrist rotating in a kind of vague shrug.

  “She showed me,” he said. “Lia. My wife. On one o
f her human machines. I didn’t think to bring that device with me… but there were moving pictures.” He made another flurry of gestures. “There was sound. It all comes from surveillance she did. In Nepal. Not long before we ran into one another.”

  It might have amused Tyr, in other times, that Loki himself was so clueless about the human technology he’d just handed him. Apparently, without his wife present, Loki had no idea how to show Tyr what was on the flash drive himself.

  “My wife knows. If you require help––” Loki offered.

  “I think I can manage, brother,” Tyr said diplomatically. “But thank you. And thank your wife for me. I will call her, using a human telephone, if I require her help.”

  “You have our numbers?” Loki said. “Both of them? Here in Paris?”

  “Yes.”

  “Ah. Good.” Loki exhaled.

  The God of Mischief combed his fingers through his longish, half-auburn hair, and Tyr again marveled at how perfect it looked.

  Loki never did anything cheaply if he could pay top dollar.

  “My wife was worried,” the other god admitted. “I know you hardly owe me anything, brother. Quite the opposite. But she was very worried, and given her condition, I thought of you. She seemed to think this could cause… problems. As in, your kind of problems.”

  Tyr nodded, frowning faintly.

  “Tell your wife, she has my sincere thanks,” Tyr said politely. “I appreciate you both including me. Particularly if you think it an area that might fall under my… jurisdiction.”

  Tyr paused, quirking an eyebrow.

  “Condition?” he queried politely. “Then you and she––”

  “Ah. Yes.” Loki gave him a sideways look.

  “Her idea? Or yours?”

  “Mine, if you must know,” Loki said, a little loftily. “But she was entirely onboard. So was our little ward.” Loki’s smile grew warmer, filled with obvious pride. “Our Maia is very much looking forward to a little sister or brother to boss around.”

  Seeing the heat rise to the other’s eyes, Tyr smiled.

  He patted his brother on the shoulder.

  “I am very happy for you,” he said sincerely. “It warms me greatly to see you so contented, Loki. More than I can say.”