Chapter 40
I actually did manage to sleep.
When I woke, the room was dark—deep and quiet, the kind of stillness that only came well after midnight.
I sat upright instantly, my heart thudding, and reached out through the bond. I was surprised to find nothing.
“Loki? Are you there?”
I waited. Nothing.
“Loki, please—are you there? I’m so sorry I was afraid of you. I know now that you were trying to help me. I’m sorry.”
Still nothing.
The messages were going through—I could feel that much. They weren’t bouncing back like they would if he’d locked me out in return. But there was no response. No emotion. No trace of him. Just an empty, echoing silence.
Panic crept in. What if something had happened to him?
I had to see for myself. I didn’t know if the passage from my room would still work—if Odin’s wards would block me—but I had to try.
“Loki, I’m sorry. You’re scaring me. I’m going to use the bookcase to try and get to you. If you don’t want me to come, just say so. Please.”
Nothing.
I slipped out of bed, crossed the room, and pulled the book marked Loki from the shelf. The secret door slid open with a whisper. I stepped through, bracing for impact or resistance—but none came.
When I opened my eyes, I was standing in his receiving room. The space was dim, lit only by a low fire in the hearth.
And there he was. Loki sat in an armchair beside the flames, wearing a long robe, a book resting in his hands. He looked relaxed. Calm. Completely at ease.
Too at ease.
“Loki?” I called cautiously as I stepped closer.
He looked up and closed the book slowly, almost too slowly. He didn’t stand.
“Aurora,” he said with a casual smile. “I’m glad you’re feeling better. I’m not really in a good mood though… maybe come back tomorrow?”
His tone was calm. Measured. Polite, even.
And completely wrong.
I froze mid-step. My heart slammed against my ribs as I reached out through the bond again. Still nothing. No warmth, no emotion. Just a void where Loki should’ve been.
The hairs on the back of my neck lifted.
Something was wrong. Deeply, horribly wrong.
The air in the room was thick with magic. Not the soft pulse of Loki’s wards, or the harsh rigid snap of Odin’s. This was… different. Twisting. Buzzing at the edge of my senses like static. It crawled along my skin, too saturated, too much.
My pulse spiked.
“Loki?” I said again, warier now.
He stood—too smooth, too graceful—and tilted his head, voice light with amusement.
“What’s wrong?”
I took a slow step back.
“Stop. Stay right there.”
To my surprise, he did.
But I studied him closely—and what I felt made my stomach twist. He was too still. Too collected. The way he moved, the way he looked at me—there was no chaos behind his eyes. No turbulence. No flicker of the pain or fear or anger I knew Loki had been drowning in.
None of his magic. None of him.
Just a perfectly crafted shell.
My Seiðr sparked to life at my fingertips.
“I don’t know who you are,” I said, my voice low and cold, “and I really don’t care. But you are not my Loki. What did you do with him?”
He opened his mouth to speak, but I raised a hand, letting the crackle of my magic roar into a visible arc of energy.
“Let me be perfectly clear,” I hissed. “If you lie to me—if you twitch wrong—I will end you. And it will not be quick.”
His eyes widened, just slightly. He felt my power—and he knew I wasn’t bluffing.
“Your Loki is here in this room,” he said, too smoothly. “But he does not wish to show himself.”
My rage flared.
“Then you’re in more danger than you realize,” I snapped, fury tightening my chest. “Because if I don’t see him in the next ten seconds, I will tear this room to pieces. And if he’s not here, I swear I’ll drag your soul from your body and burn it.”
He turned his head slowly, gaze flicking to an empty patch of wall.
I followed his eyes.
Nothing. Just stone and flickering shadows.
My hand pulsed with magic. I felt it building, rising through my chest, demanding release.
And then—
The world shimmered.
Like glass breaking.
The cozy sitting room vanished. In its place—chaos.
Furniture overturned. Glass shattered. Shelves splintered. Books torn and flung like debris. Magic scorched the air.
And across the room—
There.
Curled near the wall, shirtless and wild-haired, sat Loki. His knees were drawn up tight, his back slumped against the cold stone. His hands hung limply in his lap, blood smeared across his knuckles like he’d punched every surface in the room—again and again, until nothing was left but pain.
He didn’t even look up.
But it was him.
My Loki.
I could feel it, deep in my chest, in the pulse of my magic, in the raw ache of his emotions bleeding into me like an open wound.
I ran. I dropped to my knees beside him, my heart pounding in my throat, and wrapped my arms around him without a second’s hesitation.
“Fuck, Loki,” I breathed, pulling him into me, crushing him to my chest like I could hold the pieces of him together by force alone.
He let me—but he didn’t move. Didn’t hug me back. He just trembled, hollow and motionless, and it wrecked me.
The grief, the fury, the guilt—it poured off him like a storm, and none of it was aimed at me. It was all self-inflicted.
So I just held on.
I buried my face in his hair, my arms tight around him as if letting go might shatter us both. I whispered useless things—soft nonsense meant to comfort, to ground. I wasn’t even sure what I said. I only knew that I couldn’t leave him like this.
Minutes passed. Maybe more. His breathing slowed little by little. The sharp edge of rage dulled. But the pain—that stayed.
It didn’t ease. It didn’t fade. It just was.
“Loki,” I whispered, brushing my fingers through his hair. “Please… can you say something?”
He shook his head.
I waited, tears stinging behind my eyes.
Then, at last, he lifted his head. His eyes met mine—wide, red-rimmed, and full of so much shattered sorrow that I could barely stand it.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, my voice trembling. “I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to shut you out. I know you were trying to protect me. I know.”
He stared at me, unmoving. Then, without a word, he pulled away.
He stood—abrupt, unsteady—and backed toward the far side of the room like he couldn’t bear to be near me.
I got up slowly, unsure if I should follow.
“Loki?”
He turned.
And the look on his face hit me like a blade to the chest.
“It is all I ever seem to do,” he said, voice raw and ragged. “I hurt you. I forced myself on you, I put you in danger. I fail you every time!”
He dragged a shaking hand through his hair, grief etched into every movement.
“I raped you.” The words came out like a curse—harsh, guttural, and wrong. Not because they were true, but because he believed them. Twisted by guilt and grief, his mind had turned that night into something unforgivable again.
“And after everything—everything—you come here and apologize?” His voice cracked, disbelief and anguish bleeding through. “As though you’re the one to blame?”
My throat tightened.
“I think we should break the bond.” His words dropped like stones. “We should go our separate ways. That way, I cannot hurt you again.”
He looked away, jaw clenched. “And if it becomes necessary… leave Asgard. Merinor will take you in. He will protect you. He is better for you than I am. Anyone is better.”
I stood frozen. The air left my lungs. I felt like the floor had vanished beneath my feet.
The words were ripping through me, one by one, peeling me open.
He didn’t mean that. He couldn’t mean that.
But all I could do was stare. My voice caught in my throat. My limbs wouldn’t move.
Everything in me screamed to fight. To shout. To run to him.
But instead, what came out was a whisper.
“If that’s what you want…”
The moment the words left my lips, I broke.
The world blurred. My heart split in two, slow and agonizing, and I crumbled.
Tears spilled over, hot and silent, falling fast as my breath hitched and my chest seized.
He was still watching me—his face stricken, his mouth parted like he hadn’t expected me to say it.
But I couldn’t take it back.
And I couldn’t stop crying.
I could see anger flash over Loki’s face.
“Do you really think that is what I want?” he shouted.
“If it’s not what you want, then why say it?” I shouted back, heat rising to my face.
He crossed the room in two strides and stood right in front of me, voice raw. “Because it is what is best for you!”
“Why do you get to decide what’s best for me?” I yelled, barely keeping my voice from breaking. “You don’t get to veto my life just because you think it’s noble!”
“Because I’m your guardian!” he roared, more upset than angry now, his voice cracking under the weight of it.
I shoved him hard. “Being my guardian means protecting me when I can’t protect myself. It doesn’t give you the right to make my choices for me. It sure as hell doesn’t give you the right to break my heart just because you think it would keep me safe!”
He blinked at that—stunned. “It would break your heart?” he asked, voice suddenly uncertain, like the thought had never occurred to him.
I stared at him, furious tears rising. “What do you think?” I said, voice trembling. “Please, by all means—sever the bond, tear up our friendship, push me out of the life I’ve built, the people I love. That won’t hurt at all, right?”
I watched the words land. I saw them sink in, saw them tear straight through him. He looked like he wanted to reach for me—like he needed to—but he hesitated, afraid.
So I made the choice for both of us.
I threw myself into his arms.
He caught me instantly, clutching me like I was the last solid thing in the world. And then it happened. The bond reconnected.
It was like the sun breaking through after days of darkness. A flood of emotion slammed into me—his pain, shame, guilt. He was shaking.
“Aurora…” His voice cracked in my mind. “I did not know. I could not feel you. I was to afraid to contact you and hurt or scare you even further. I thought—gods, I thought I had lost you. I thought you were afraid of me. That you hated me.”
He buried his face against my neck, his grip tightening like he thought I might vanish if he let go.
“But now—now I can feel you,” his voice echoed through the bond, reverent and disbelieving. “You’re hurt, angry, still healing… but you’re here. And you still… you still want me.”
“I do,” I whispered aloud, my voice trembling. “I never—never—want to lose you.”
He pulled back just enough to look at me, eyes brimming with unshed tears, and gently cradled my face in his hands.
“I am so sorry,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “For pushing you away. For thinking I could protect you by walking out of your life. I was terrified—terrified of the way you looked at me in the healing ward, of what I’d become in your eyes. And still… I could not stay away. I kept selfishly forcing myself close, clinging to the idea that if I remained near, I would not feel like such a failure as your guardian—even when I knew my presence was hurting you.”
He swallowed hard, his voice cracking. “When I realized what I was doing, I told myself I had to end our bond. That if being your guardian meant causing you pain, then I would rather lose you than be the reason you suffered. But somewhere along the way… I forgot that losing you would break us both.”
“You didn’t lose me,” I whispered. “I’m right here.”
I rested my hand over his heart. “But next time, don’t shut me out. Let me fight with you. Let me stay with you.”
He nodded, as if the weight of the guilt was still there—but finally, finally, he let me help carry it.
And for the first time in days, I felt like we might just make it through this. Together.
We stood there for a while, wrapped in silence and each other, until Loki gently pulled back.
“You’re getting cold,” he murmured.
He was right—I hadn’t noticed until he said it, but a chill had crept over me.
He crossed the room and righted the toppled sofa, then motioned for me to sit. I curled into it wordlessly, still wrapped in the weight of everything. Loki disappeared into his bedroom and returned a moment later with a thick green plaid. He draped it over me carefully, then nudged the sofa closer to the fire before settling down beside me.
The warmth of the flames, the weight of the blanket, the soft hush between us—it was all incredibly grounding.
After a few minutes, Loki glanced over at me. “Did someone tell you I let the murderer get away?”
I shook my head. “Loki, please stop,” I said firmly, trying my best to channel Frigga. “I was the one who attacked you. Thor had to let go of the imposter to protect me. Don’t start with the ‘this is all my fault’ routine. I’m way too tired for that.”
He blinked, his mouth falling open a little—then slowly, a grin pulled at his lips. “Did you just scold me? Like my mother?”
I grinned back. “Yes. Yes, I did. I’ve had practice—she gave me the same lecture earlier. I wasn’t supposed to leave my room. Definitely wasn’t supposed to come looking for you. She even locked me in to make sure I didn’t sneak out.”
Loki let out a full laugh—an actual laugh—and the sound made something inside me loosen. The tension between us eased.
“You are going to be in so much trouble if she finds out,” he said through a chuckle.
I leaned my head against the back of the sofa and sighed. “Then we better make sure she doesn’t.”
The warmth lasted only a moment before his expression turned more serious again.
“Can you tell me what happened? With the imposter?” he asked quietly.
I hesitated. The last thing I wanted was to relive that moment—but I also knew I couldn’t lie to him. He deserved the truth. At least most of it.
“You came into the ballroom,” I said slowly. “You offered to walk me back to my room. I was tired, but I was happy to see you again. We talked, and I noticed we were taking a different hallway. You pointed out the tapestries. Said you had an ulterior motive for showing them to me. Then… you pulled me behind one.”
My hands fidgeted with the edge of the plaid.
“That’s when I started to feel something was wrong. I reached out through the bond and realized it wasn’t you.”
I paused.
“The rest you know.”
He didn’t speak right away. I could feel his gaze on me, heavy and searching.
“Is that all that happened?” he asked finally.
“It’s all that’s relevant,” I said, lifting my chin slightly as I met his eyes. Daring him to push for more.
“Is there a reason you are lying?” he asked, too calmly.
“I’m not lying,” I muttered, avoiding his eyes. “I just don’t want to get into every single detail. It won’t do you any good, and it doesn’t change the outcome.”
He sat there, silent for a long moment, his gaze fixed on me like he was trying to read every twitch in my face. I could feel his worry brewing—anxiety laced with something sharper.
“Loki, please,” I said gently. “There’s no need to worry.”
But it didn’t calm him.
In fact, I felt the opposite. Anger, slow and cold, stirred under the surface.
“How would I know?” he said clearly irritated. “You will not tell me. You have never kept things from me before—not even when they were embarrassing or painful. So what could possibly be so bad now that you feel you must hide it from me?”
His voice wasn’t raised, but the weight in it cut deep.
I looked away, heart pounding. “I swear to you—it’s just something you don’t need to know. I don’t want to talk about it because… it could jeopardize our friendship.”
I met his eyes then, pleading with every part of me for him to just let it go.
He didn’t.
“Aurora,” he said softly, “you need to tell me. There is nothing—nothing—that could make me turn from you. I do not believe anything could damage what we have.”
I groaned and rolled my eyes, already feeling the burn of tears threatening. My hands were shaking. I stood, wrapped the plaid tighter around my shoulders, and started pacing. My thoughts were a storm, and my mouth felt too dry to speak.
Loki just sat there, watching, waiting.
“When the imposter took me into the hallway with the tapestries… he said he had something to show me. I didn’t think much of it. We went behind one of the drapes. I thought maybe you just wanted a quiet moment or something…” My voice started to shake. I didn’t want to keep going, but I did.
“He kissed me.”
The words hung there like they’d been pulled from my lungs.
“I—I didn’t stop him right away. I didn’t know it wasn’t you. My mind was foggy, I was exhausted, and I was still so off from the days before. I—” I broke off, rubbing a hand over my face. “I was confused. I was trying to feel what you were feeling, but it was… muted. Strange. I couldn’t figure it out. So I used the bond.”
I stopped pacing. My back was to him now.
“And that’s when I realized the real you was still with your father and Thor. That’s when I started to fight. The rest… you know.”
I turned, slowly. My face burned with a furious blush. He was staring at me—mouth parted, brows drawn together in disbelief.
“You only started to fight him after you realized it was not me who was kissing you?” he asked, like he didn’t believe the words even as he said them.
“Yes,” I groaned, burying my face in my hands for a moment. “Gods, please stop staring.”
He didn’t. Of course he didn’t. I could feel his stunned confusion through the bond like a wave.
And then—the question I’d been dreading.
“But why did you not stop him sooner?”
His voice was barely more than a breath.
I stood there frozen. Everything inside me twisted. I wanted to lie. I wanted to change the subject. I wanted to laugh it off.
But I couldn’t.
Because this was it. This was the moment. I had to tell the truth and let it fall where it would.
Even if it shattered everything.
“Because I thought he was really you.”
The words tumbled out, and as soon as they did, I slapped both hands over my face in horror.
I cracked my fingers just enough to peek through them—and regretted it instantly.
Loki was staring in the distance, eyes wide, mouth slightly open like he’d just been struck. He didn’t speak at first. Just swallowed hard.
“So let me get this clear,” he said slowly, his eyes finally locking onto mine. “You didn’t push him away when he kissed you… because you thought I was kissing you?”
I wanted the floor to swallow me whole.
“See?” I choked. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you.”
My hands dropped from my face, and I took a trembling step back, tears already slipping down my cheeks.
“Loki, I can feel your emotions. You know that—I feel everything. I know you don’t love me the way I…” My voice caught, my heart hammering wildly. “The way I love you.”
Saying it broke something loose in my chest.
“I’ve known for a long time that you don’t feel that way about me. Not once—not ever—have I ever felt that from you. No flutter of desire, no trace of longing. Not even when we’re wrapped up in each other in the quietest moments. I feel your care, your protectiveness, your trust—but never romantic love.”
I wiped at my face, breath hitching. “And that’s fine. Truly. I never wanted to make you uncomfortable. I never wanted you to know how I felt. I certainly never wanted to force this on you like this.”
My hands balled at my sides. “I’ve been hiding it—pushing it down—because your friendship means everything to me. You’re my home, Loki. The one person I trust more than anyone else. I would rather die than lose that.”
I looked away, ashamed. “So yes. I didn’t stop him right away because for one fleeting second, I thought it was you. And I—I wanted it to be you. That makes me a fool. But I didn’t want to be a fool in your eyes, too.”
I scanned the room, desperate to look anywhere but at him. My eyes landed on the bookcase—on the book with my name etched across the spine. All I had to do was reach out, pull it, and I’d be back in my room. Safe. Alone.
There was movement behind me. I turned—
Loki was walking around the sofa, eyes locked on mine. There was something in his expression—something wild and fierce—that rooted me to the floor.
He lifted one hand, fingers flicking through the air. A shimmer of magic rippled around us. Before I could speak, he crossed the last of the distance and crushed his mouth to mine.
His kiss was demanding and soft at the same time, filled with emotion I couldn’t comprehend. He pulled me into him, his arms wrapping around me like he was afraid I might disappear.
I brought my hands up to his chest, intent on pushing him away. But then it hit me. A flood of emotion surged through the bond.
Love.
Not a flicker. Not a flick. Blazing. Consuming. Warm and aching and so deep it buckled my knees.
Passion. Desire. The kind of yearning that made my breath catch in my throat.
All of it, crashing through me like a storm.
And all of it—for me.
I had been kissing him this whole time, but only now did I truly feel it. The truth behind it. The power of what it meant.
I broke the kiss, staggering back half a step as I stared at him, breathless.
His pupils were wide, his chest rising and falling as if he’d run a marathon.
“How?” I asked, my voice barely audible. “How long have you—”
Words failed me. I couldn’t finish the sentence.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered as he closed the space between us again, as if even inches were unbearable. He rested his forehead against mine, still breathless from the kiss.
“It’s a defense mechanism,” he said quietly. “Something I created a long time ago—magically. Do you remember the empath we had at court when I was young?”
I nodded, too stunned to form words.
“He was a cruel man. Took real pleasure in mocking people with the things they tried hardest to hide. I… I had a crush on Sif back then. Stupid, childish, but he found out. And he used it to blackmail me. Humiliated me.”
He drew in a breath, his eyes locked on mine.
“So I found a way to hide certain emotions. Not all of them—just the ones I couldn’t risk him seeing. If I blocked everything, he’d have known something was wrong. But this way… he felt almost everything. Enough to keep him fooled. Everything but my love, my lust, my desire. Those, I kept hidden. They were mine. Mine alone. Even after he left, I never undid it. I needed those things to be mine—safe.”
His voice softened. “Then you came along. And especially with our bond—gods, I couldn’t risk it. You’ve been my first true friend in longer than I can say, and I did not want to lose that. I was terrified It would ruin everything if you ever found out.”
I blinked at him, heart pounding. “But…?”
“Aurora,” he breathed, “I’ve loved you since almost the first moment—since that day I found you with Fenrir. I did not understand it then, but once I did… I tried to convince myself it was just friendship. I clung to that idea, because it was safe. Because if I let myself want more—if I reached for it—and lost you…”
His voice trailed off. I didn’t need him to finish. I felt it all. Every raw, beautiful thread of truth he’d hidden from me.
And I couldn’t hold back anymore.
I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him—hard and unhesitating.
He responded instantly, pulling me close, his hands fisting in the back of my nightgown. His lips on mine were fire and heaven at once, and through it all, his emotions poured through me—love, so deep and overwhelming it made my knees weak.
But he couldn’t feel mine. Not yet.
I opened the bond. Fully.
He drew back with a gasp, his eyes wide as my feelings hit him—undeniable, unhidden.
Love.
Fierce and full and real.
I felt his joy surge like sunlight in my veins, and then he kissed me again, harder. His arms wrapped around me like he was afraid I’d vanish. I let my head fall back as his lips trailed down the line of my jaw, over the curve of my neck.
I wanted more. I wanted everything. I wanted to melt into him and never come apart again.
I gasped, giggling as he suddenly lifted me into his arms.
He looked up at me with the brightest, most boyish smile I’d ever seen on him. I cupped his face and kissed it.
Then I tangled my fingers into his hair and kissed him again, because I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to.
Not ever.
I vaguely realized he was walking, but I didn’t want to break the kiss to see where he was going. A few seconds later, he gently laid me down in the center of his bed. I looked up at him just as he began pressing soft kisses to my stomach—over the thin fabric of my nightgown—slowly working his way upward. My body was on fire. Every kiss sent shivers through me as he moved higher, until his mouth finally met mine again. His lips moved with mine in perfect rhythm, unhurried and deep. He hovered above me, somehow close without putting any weight on me, and it was driving me insane. I shifted, trying to make space—my nightgown clinging too tightly around my legs. Finally, I managed to free them, wrapping them around his waist and pulling him flush against me.
I heard a low growl escape his lips as he ground against me, his hips pressing flush to mine. I could feel him growing hard—his body aligned perfectly with mine, the pressure building in all the right places. A soft moan slipped from me before I could stop it.
He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching mine. I felt the unspoken question hang in the air—did I want this? Was I ready?
He wouldn’t push. I knew he wouldn’t. But the way I loved him made it hard to breathe, and I couldn’t find the words.
So I opened the bond.
There were no more barriers. No defenses, no walls. I let everything pour through the bond—need, trust, devotion… love so fierce it trembled in my chest.
A silent, undeniable yes.
His eyes widened. I felt his breath catch, his entire body going still as the full weight of my feelings slammed into him—unfiltered, raw, real.
A flicker of something primal stirred in his gaze—deep, aching need. With a wave of his hand and a pulse of magic that tingled through the air, a cool breeze swept over my skin.
I gasped as I realized—I was bare. Exposed.
He inhaled sharply, like the sight of me struck him physically. His expression shifted, wonder and hunger crashing together in a look so fierce it made my pulse stutter.
Like he was seeing me—truly seeing me—for the first time.
And it undid him. Undid us both.
“My gods, Aurora… you are beautiful.” His voice was barely a breath as he lowered himself over me, his lips finding my breast.
His mouth closed around my left nipple while his hands caressed both, warm and sure. I arched into him with a soft gasp—he knew exactly what he was doing. When he shifted to the other side, the ache between my legs deepened. I could feel him hard and eager, pressed against me.
I tangled my fingers in his hair and gently pulled him up toward my mouth. Between breathless kisses, I finally managed to mutter with a grin, “This is getting unfair—you’re still dressed.”
A second tingle of magic stirred the air. Then I felt him—warm, bare skin against mine. I hummed softly as I ran my hands down his back, greedy to touch every inch of him.
I felt Loki shift his hips, gently nudging my legs farther apart. His mouth brushed along my neck, sending shivers down my spine. As I arched toward him, I felt him press against me—hesitating.
But I slid my hands down his back and gave the slightest pressure. He understood. Slowly, carefully, he entered me.
It was exactly like in the dream—he was big, nearly too much. But with the bond between us wide open, he could feel everything I did. Every twinge, every gasp, every ripple of sensation. He moved with exquisite care, never going to fast, just on the a perfect edge of being stretched beyond I had ever felt and pure ecstasy. Before I knew it he was fully inside me and I exhaled a shaky breath, feeling so full and whole in a way I never had before.
He kissed me deeply, then pulled back just enough to meet my eyes—and in that moment, I saw everything. His soul laid bare. Love. Awe. Reverence.
He began to move, slow and steady, each motion precise and deliberate. And then, the mark at the back of my neck sparked to life—a warm, tingle that spread through me like fire.
Our Seiðr responded, intertwining, rising. I could no longer tell where I ended and he began. It was like falling into the stars.
He moved inside me again, and the friction sent a wave of pleasure crashing through my body. I could feel his desire, his restraint, his pleasure mingled with mine. My arms glided along the muscles of his back, feeling every flex and tremble beneath my fingertips.
When he dipped his head beside mine, I pressed soft kisses along his neck. He groaned against my skin, and I smiled as goosebumps rose along his back.
The way he moved inside me—slow, reverent—felt like worship. Every motion was deliberate, like he was learning my body by heart, memorizing every breath, every tremble. My name fell from his lips, whispered like a sacred thing.
“Aurora,” he said softly, eyes locked on mine. “I love you.”
I gasped, overwhelmed—not just by the words, but the depth of emotion behind them. “Loki, I love you too,” I whispered.
We felt each other’s love through the bond, raw and real, so potent it shimmered between us like light.
His pace never faltered. Each measured thrust sent waves of pleasure rolling through me, building slowly but surely. I could feel his rising need, tightly reined in by his restraint, by his desire to savor every second. He could have claimed more—faster, harder—but he didn’t. He stayed in that rhythm of slow-burning intensity, dragging out the exquisite tension until I was nearly trembling.
We were breathless, tangled together, our hands roaming freely—mine across the sculpted planes of his back, his gripping my hips and shoulders like he never wanted to let go. It was too much. Too good. A tear slipped from the corner of my eye.
Loki kissed it away, brushing his nose against mine in a tender, almost boyish gesture that made my heart ache.
I was spiraling, our magic fused and flowing through us in perfect sync. It amplified everything—every touch, every heartbeat, every pulse of pleasure. I was so close, the edge right there—
Then he shifted his hips, just slightly, adding a slow, deliberate roll that sent a jolt of sensation tearing through me. The stars behind my eyes exploded.
“Fuck, Loki!” I cried out as the orgasm tore through me, hard and unrelenting. My body clenched around him, almost painfully tight.
He groaned—my name falling from his lips again and again as he thrust into me, losing control. The sound of his pleasure, the feel of his now rougher pace deep inside me, tipped me right over the edge again. Another wave surged through me—blinding, consuming. I couldn’t even think, couldn’t breathe, only feel.
It was the longest, most intense release I’d ever experienced.
Eventually, the storm began to fade. Slowly, gently, we came back to ourselves. Our Seiðr, still mingled slowly unraveled—returning to its rightful place inside us both. The warmth at the back of my neck lingered, soft and steady.
Loki’s arms trembled as he braced himself above me, trying not to collapse. He was still panting, his face buried in the crook of my neck. I could feel how carefully he held his weight off me, even as exhaustion pulled at both of us.
With a soft, careful motion, he withdrew. I couldn’t help but wince—the stretch of him still echoed through my body, making me ache in the best, most satisfying way.
He froze. I felt a flicker of concern—followed quickly by a wave of smug, masculine satisfaction.
I gave him a dry look. “Really?”
He grinned, utterly unrepentant.
“I’m doing wonders for your ego, aren’t I?” I grinned.
He gave me that mischievous look I knew so well but didn’t reply. I could feel his chest shake with held-back laughter as he slowly pulled me against him. We rolled together into a familiar position—me cradled in his arms, curled tightly to his chest. I couldn’t help but wrap my leg over his, needing to keep as much of our bodies touching as possible.
A shiver ran down my spine as the cool air kissed my skin, and Loki wordlessly summoned a blanket over us with a pulse of magic. Warmth settled around us, from the fire, the plaid, and most of all, from him.
I didn’t think I’d ever felt this happy. This complete. Loki loved me—and I loved him. We’d just made love, and I’d never felt closer to him, in body or soul.
I tilted my head up to look at him. The contentment on his face mirrored exactly what I felt through the bond. I kissed his cheek, unable to resist. He turned and caught my lips instead, kissing me softly, his hand stroking gently through my hair. When I pulled back, I couldn’t help but smile.
“This is not what I thought would happen when I walked into your room tonight,” I said with a smirk.
Loki smiled, his voice low. “If I’d known you felt the same all this time, I would’ve stopped blocking my emotions ages ago.”
I felt the truth of it in his words, and in the guilt that followed.
“It was… hard,” he admitted. “Watching you with Muriel. I kept telling myself you just wanted me as a friend. After the dreams, and everything in Alfheim, it only got harder.”
He sighed and looked away. “I can’t tell you how many nights I lay awake, haunted by what happened between us at the Sun and Moon festival. It was the best and the worst night of my life. I truly thought I’d violated you. I was terrified. And when I found out I hadn’t, I was so relieved… but the memory stayed with me. How amazing it felt—how much I wanted it again. But I was convinced you didn’t feel the same.”
I looked at him, heart aching. “Me too,” I said softly. “Though I think I had it a little easier—I didn’t remember the feelings. Just the fact that it had been… incredible. I kept trying to shut those thoughts down, afraid they’d ruin everything between us.”
I grinned. “The last few times we shared a bed to sleep, it was heaven, but every morning I had to practically throw myself into a cold shower just to keep my feelings under control. I was so scared you’d feel it through the bond. I didn’t want to lose you.”
Loki studied me, something unreadable in his eyes. “Did you… already have feelings for me? Before you started seeing Muriel?”
I nodded. “Yes. Though I was very much in denial. I think I tried so hard not to feel anything, I ended up looking for it in the wrong person. Not that it helped. I still fell in love with you anyway.”
He turned, almost like he was studying me. “Are you still focusing on the bond right now?”
I paused, then shook my head. “No.”
He smiled. “I can still feel you.”
Then he tickled me.
I shrieked and tried to squirm away. “Loki!” I laughed.
“Yep. Definitely still feel you,” he grinned.
As I caught my breath, I remembered the warm tingle at the back of my neck.
“Did your mark feel warm too?” I asked.
He nodded, then rolled me gently onto my stomach, lifting my hair. He took in a slow breath—and I felt something shift in him.
“What is it?” I asked, turning.
He held out a mirror, revealing the new rune glowing just above the guardian mark on the back of my neck. A soft light shimmered around it, unmistakable.
“It’s the rune for love,” he said quietly. His voice cracked. “I guess… our love changed the bond. That’s why I can still feel you. We are not just connected by duty anymore. We are bound by love.”
He pulled me against him again, his emotions overflowing with warmth and relief.
“I really hope you won’t get tired of my feelings after a while,” I teased softly.
“You are the one person in the realms I don’t mind feeling all the time,” he said. “Honestly, I am relieved. This way, I will always know you are safe or not. It might actually make my life easier.”
I could sense the exhaustion radiating off him, a weight he’d been carrying for days.
“Loki… how much have you slept recently?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.
His guilt hit me instantly.
“You promised me you would d take care of yourself,” I scolded gently.
He rolled so we were face to face. “I’m horrible at taking care of my own needs,” he admitted. “So how about this—you take care of me, and I’ll take care of you?”
My heart melted.
“You’ve got yourself a deal.” I kissed his nose. “Now go to sleep. That’s an order.”
He laughed and flopped onto his back, pulling me close again.
Within moments, his breathing slowed, his body relaxed—and I felt his mind begin to drift. Peaceful. Safe. Loved.
I smiled as I rested my head on his chest.
I’d never felt better in my life.
And with that thought, I drifted off to sleep too.