Chapter 46
Again, my week was dull and uneventful, but I didn’t feel quite as down as before. Loki had sent a few messages through our bond for me to relay to his father, and even a handful of letters through the ravens. They were simple—sweet words about how he missed me—but I loved that he took the time to write them anyway. Even if they were carefully worded and a little superficial in case they fell into the wrong hands, I still looked forward to them more than anything else.
I’d written back often, and nearly a week had passed since his last visit. I was hoping I might see him again soon.
It was dinner time, and I was sitting with Odin and Frigga when I felt a sudden tingle at the back of my neck.
“Did you miss me?”
I nearly jumped in my seat. Frigga looked over at me curiously, and I couldn’t help but smile.
“I’m sorry,” I said, setting down my fork. “If you don’t mind, I just remembered something I need to take care of. Urgently.”
Frigga raised a brow, but before she could ask anything, I added with a warm smile, “I’ll stop by your chambers later tonight and tell you all about it.”
Both she and Odin smiled knowingly.
“That is quite alright, my dear,” Frigga said. “Go tend to your business. We shall see you later.”
I nodded gratefully and left the dining room at a normal pace—until I slipped into the servants’ corridor and all but ran.
I’m on my way. Nearly there, I sent through the bond, focusing on where I could feel him.
He was there—close—but the bond felt quieter than usual. Muted. That was strange. Normally, even without words, I could feel more from him.
But when I burst into our chambers and scanned the room, I didn’t see him.
I could feel him more clearly the closer I got—his presence, his emotions. Faint, but familiar.
I moved quickly to the bedroom door and stopped cold when I saw him.
He was sprawled on the bed, still in full armor, dark circles bruised beneath his eyes. Exhaustion clung to him so thickly I could feel it in my chest like a weight.
“Loki?” I whispered, hurrying over and kneeling beside him. I reached out and nudged his shoulder gently. Nothing. My heartbeat picked up.
“Loki,” I said again, shaking him harder.
Still nothing.
Panic flared. I climbed onto the bed and pulled his head and shoulders into my lap, cradling him as I reached for our bond. His presence was there—faint, but steady. Not broken. Not gone.
I focused, careful and slow, and began to transfer the tiniest amount of Seiðr into him. I didn’t know how much he needed. I couldn’t risk giving him too much. To much to fast could hurt him. So I did what I could—bit by bit—watching his face for any change.
Minutes passed. My heart kept racing. His skin was cold against mine, but slowly—so slowly—I saw a shift. The lines of exhaustion on his face softened. I felt something stir through the bond. A flicker. A shift.
He moved slightly, and I felt it—the first real change. He was waking.
“Loki?” I whispered. “Can you hear me? I’m transferring Seiðr to you, but I need you to wake up and tell me if I’m doing it right.”
His eyes fluttered. Blinked. Then slowly focused on me.
Relief hit so hard I nearly started crying. But I kept it together.
“Can you concentrate on the transfer?” I asked softly, brushing his hair back from his face. “You should be able to take control now. I’m still channeling it—slow and steady. Can you handle it from your side?”
He blinked once, then again—and I felt it. The shift. The moment he reached through and took over the flow. It increased quickly, but it wasn’t chaotic. It was controlled, stable. He knew exactly how much to draw and how fast.
Within seconds, the color returned to his face. The tension eased out of his body. He sat up straighter, his breathing steadied. The worst of the exhaustion was gone. A moment later, he closed the bond between us, sealing the connection.
“What happened?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm even though I was still shaking.
He sat up and pulled me into his arms without hesitation. “I am sorry I scared you,” he said quietly. “But I needed to see Father right away. I was low on Seiðr, but I could not risk waiting. I figured if I sent the message first, you would come quickly... and when you felt me, you would know what to do.”
I pulled back just enough to glare at him—and then smacked him lightly on the arm.
“You idiot,” I snapped. “You scared the life out of me!”
He opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off.
“I know. I know it was necessary. But that doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to be mad about it.”
I climbed off the bed, still fuming, but not really. I just needed to move. To do something.
“Where are you going?” he asked, reaching for my hand.
“I’m going to send a message to your parents. They should be done with dinner, and I want them to come here. You can rest in bed while you talk to them. I don’t want anyone else—especially Yara—seeing you right now.”
He exhaled, visibly relieved, and dropped back onto the mattress.
I went to the sitting room and called Yara.
She entered within moments, looking concerned.
“Yara,” I said quietly, taking her hand, “I need you to deliver a message to Odin and Frigga. In person. No one else—not even the other handmaidens—can know.”
She blinked in surprise, but nodded. “Of course.”
“When you reach them, tell them I need to speak with them in my chambers. Urgently, but in private. After that, I want you and the rest of the staff to stay out of these rooms until I say otherwise. Can you do that?”
“I can. I will go now.” And just like that, she turned and hurried away.
When I returned to the bedroom, Loki was lying back, more awake but clearly still recovering.
“Will you be able to sense your parents entering the room?” I asked.
He nodded. “Yes.”
He reached out, and I crawled up onto the bed beside him. As soon as I settled, he winced.
“What’s wrong?” I asked quickly, already reaching for his armor.
He caught my hands and held them still. “I am bruised. Some cuts. Nothing serious. I had just enough Seiðr to close the worst of it. The rest I spent getting back to you.”
My heart skipped a beat—and before he could stop me, I used a flick of magic to remove his clothes.
The sight of him knocked the breath from my lungs.
Bruises. Deep, dark ones blooming across his ribs, his stomach, his sides. Small cuts scattered across his skin. I stared, and tears sprang to my eyes before I could blink them back.
I placed both hands on his chest and whispered the words of a healing spell under my breath, letting my Seiðr rise.
“Aurora,” he said softly, “it will heal in a few hours. You do not have to—”
I shot him a look. Firm. No room for argument.
He shut his mouth and laid back again, quiet.
I focused, guiding the magic into him slowly, evenly. The warmth of the spell sank into his skin as the bruises began to fade, the broken vessels knitting beneath my hands. The cuts sealed over, one by one. I worked my way across his chest, his shoulders, down his arms, until there was nothing left but clean, unbroken skin.
When I was done, he exhaled quietly and reached for me, pulling me back against his chest.
He pressed a soft kiss to my hair. “Thank you,” he whispered.
Suddenly, he looked toward the bedroom door, and I could feel it—someone had entered our chambers. His parents, most likely.
Without needing to say anything, I moved closer, and with a quick flick of my hand, I dressed him in the soft, dark clothes I knew he liked. The comfortable ones he always reached for when he wanted to relax.
He raised a brow at me, amused. “It seems you are getting the hang of things,” he said with a grin. “That is the first time you used that spell on another person instead of yourself.”
I just shrugged. “I already knew the spell. Also I’ve been practicing. And right now, I think you should preserve your strength.” I didn’t finish the sentence—I didn’t need to. We both knew how tired he was.
I’d come a long way these past weeks. I had been training, quietly, daily. Not learning new spells, I wouldn’t do that without Loki not yet. But practicing the ones I already knew. Repeating them. Refining them. I’d done it without even really thinking about it at first, just something to keep myself busy while Loki was gone.
And now… it felt different. The magic didn’t feel foreign anymore. It was a part of me. Familiar. Natural. Not something strange or new. Just mine.
I climbed off the bed, and he followed. His movements were a bit stiff, but I could feel it—his muscles were no longer tight with pain. The healing had helped.
I left the bedroom and padded down the little hallway. When I stepped into the main room, I saw them both—Frigga and Odin—already seated. I smiled at Frigga and gave a subtle wave toward the ceiling. Her gaze flicked up for half a second in recognition, and a moment later, I felt the ripple of her magic settle over the room. The familiar tingle of a ward expanding around us. Loki’s chambers already had a lot of protection, It wasn’t just about privacy—it would keep anyone from entering entirely. “Loki, you can come out now,” I called softly.
Within moments, he emerged, calm and composed. I walked over and took my seat beside Frigga while Loki moved to the opposite sofa.
Her eyes met mine, full of concern. I knew I must have looked a bit worn out—my emotions had always been easy to read.
“I found him passed out on our bed,” I explained. “I gave him Seiðr to wake him and maintained the link until he could take over himself. Then I healed him. He was covered in cuts and bruises. He knew he would exhaust himself teleporting here, so he only closed the worst wounds.”
Frigga looked at her son, worry etched into every line of her face, but she let him speak first.
“Father, I have grave news,” Loki began, sitting down. “For days, we have been fighting as planned. It worked well at first—we liberated the initial cities. But we quickly realized that only women and children were left behind. The men had all joined the enemy. When we reached the cities near the Niflheim border, we found legions of soldiers… all of them from those towns. Ordinary citizens, now turned fighters.”
He paused briefly. “We captured a few of them. Interrogated them. Nothing. Pain meant nothing to them. Their words were filled with rage and hate toward Asgard. Even when their families were brought in, they did not recognize their own wives or children. The women said it was like another person had taken their place. I used several spells. I believe they are right.”
We all looked to Odin. He rubbed his face, as if trying to clear it of what he’d just heard.
“Do you have any idea what could cause this?” he asked.
Loki nodded. “Only speculation, but If the person behind this is the same one as the imposter, and he has the Skull of Specters, then it fits. These towns near Niflheim never made strategic sense. They are difficult to hold. But with that artifact… it could allow someone to transfer Niflheim souls into the living. The townsfolk had no history of rebellion. Their families were loyal. Until they changed.”
His voice dropped slightly. “The only way we can confirm this is to ask Hela. She alone would know if souls have gone missing.”
Odin stiffened immediately, tension rising like a wall around him.
“My son, do you swear this is the only reason? You know what this means. I cannot summon her to court just so you might see her.”
I felt Loki’s temper rising, and so did Frigga. I reached for him through the bond and spoke gently. “Loki, don’t. Keep quiet.”
His eyes flicked to mine, sharp but grateful, even as his jaw clenched.
Frigga stood. “Odin, you forget—she is Queen of her own realm. She does not answer to you. She made that clear long ago. She may respect your title, but that is where it ends. And let us not pretend Loki would use something this grave as a trick just to see his daughter again. He has abided by your wishes for years. He has never once asked to summon her, never even spoken her name in your presence unless necessary.” Her tone was cool and firm, cutting through the rising tension like a blade.Even Odin seemed taken aback. He eased back into his seat with a slow breath.
“You are right,” he said finally, the fight slipping from his voice.
He looked to Loki again. “What will Thor do now?”
“We have decided to stand our ground and surround the remaining villages,” Loki said. “As long as they do not attack, Thor will await any information I send back. He is aware of my suspicions and agrees we need more answers before we push forward. We do not want to slaughter innocent men just to regain control of the towns.”
Odin nodded. “I will summon Hela to court. Tomorrow I shall meet with her privately and get to the bottom of this. The meeting will take place behind closed doors—I do not want word of this spreading among the nobles. If they learn of this latest development, it could incite panic and paranoia.” His gaze shifted to Loki. “I shall have Aurora relay any findings through the bond.”
Loki’s jaw clenched, his anger flaring under the surface.
Frigga stepped in before he could speak. “I am sorry, but I do not think that is wise husband,” she said, turning to Odin. “We both know that your relationship with Hela is strained at best. If you attempt to demand answers from her, she will shut you out entirely.”
Odin narrowed his eyes but said nothing, listening.
Frigga continued, calm but firm. “We should approach her as a family. Loki and Aurora should be present. We shall tell her what is happening, explain what we suspect, and ask for her help. Nothing more, nothing less.”
Odin opened his mouth to object, but Frigga cut him off before he could speak.
“She is royalty, Odin. As much as any other ruler in the Nine Realms. And if she refuses to help—then you may exercise your authority as Allfather. But at least you will have extended her the courtesy she is due.”
There was a long pause, but finally Odin gave a reluctant nod.
Frigga turned to Loki. “My son, tomorrow morning you must make it appear as though you have just arrived at court. We shall send word when Hela’s arrival is confirmed. The meeting will be arranged accordingly. With luck, she will give us the answers we need. Then we can decide what action to take next.”
Loki gave a sharp nod in response, still clearly too angry to speak.
Frigga stood. “Then we shall leave you for now and welcome our son’s return in the morning.”
She hugged me and Loki, and with a final glance, she and Odin exited the room.
The moment the doors shut, I saw Loki’s control slip.
He turned and grabbed a vase from the side table, hurling it into the wall with a loud crash. Shards exploded everywhere, the impact shaking the quiet of the room.
I didn’t flinch—and I wasn’t scared. I could feel it in him. Rage. Frustration. That deep ache of helplessness he almost never let show. And it wasn’t just about Odin. It was everything. Not being allowed to be a father to his children. Being questioned. Restrained. Shut out again and again.
I walked to him slowly, placing my hands over his. Wordlessly, I guided him to the sofa and sat in his lap, wrapping my arms around him. I tucked my head into the crook of his neck and gently ran my fingers over the back of it, kneading the tension there.
I didn’t speak. He just needed to breathe.
Gradually, the storm inside him quieted. He was still furious—I could feel that—but it had dulled from sharp to bearable. When I felt the tension ease, I pulled back slightly and looked up at him. He leaned in, resting his forehead against mine.
“Thank you for doing that,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I think I might have torn through this entire room before I calmed down on my own.”
“It’s okay,” I whispered. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. Even though things are better between me and your father now… he’s still a massive asshole sometimes.”
Loki let out a bark of laughter, full and unexpected. His arms tightened around me.
“I love the way your Midgardian heritage shines through when you curse, my love. It seems in your time, people are quite colorful with their words.” He grinned. “But in this case… I could not have said it better myself.”
I couldn’t help but laugh too. It was true. I’d been trying to adapt to Asgardian customs, but there were still moments—especially with Loki—where the habits I grew up with broke through. Thankfully, they mostly happened around the people I trusted.
“So,” I said, brushing his hair back from his face, “how are you holding up? Between the camp… and Hela coming tomorrow?”
"The part back at camp—fine. The wounds you saw were from battle, and not life-threatening, just the result of days and days of fighting. But seeing Hela tomorrow... I don’t know. I know she resents me for not seeing her all this time. But I secretly hope I at least get some time to talk to her. Not about all of this—just about how she's doing."
He sighed.
"But I am glad you are going to be there. Just like you did for me now—I need someone to pull me back a bit without my pride getting in the way."
He pulled me against his chest, and I cuddled into him.
"My mother used to be able to calm me when I was younger. But she always had to wait until we were in private. Otherwise, I would only escalate, because I felt she made me look like a fool before Thor or Father. More than once, it caused me to say things in anger and make it worse. She made me reflect and look back, but by then... all I could do was wish I could take it back."
He was tracing small circles on my arm.
"Let us just say that you—and our bond—are one of the best things to happen to me in a long while." He grinned.
I smiled at him. "It was pretty funny to see your mother going all stern on Odin." I grinned.
That made him smile too.
"Yes, that was fun. How did you know she would do that?"
I shook my head. "To be honest, I didn’t. But I could feel her anger flare at the same time as yours. I just knew she wouldn’t keep silent."
Loki looked at me with wide eyes. "She was angry?"
I nodded. "Yes, very. I’m amazed how she managed to rein in her anger and still sound so reasonable and stern at the same time."
Loki nodded. "Yes, indeed. But she has had thousands of years of practice dealing with my father. She would never object or disagree with him in public. Even like she did tonight, in front of family—she usually does not do that."
I smiled. "But I can imagine the things she says behind the privacy of their own doors. I don’t think she’ll hold her tongue if she’s got something on her mind."
"Nor do I." He grinned.
It felt so good to be in Loki’s arms, to have him here with me—even if I could still feel the tension in his body..
"Come," was all I said as I pulled him up from the sofa and led him to our bathroom. I filled the large tub—there was no way I could wash him in the pool, it was way too deep.
Once the bath was ready and I’d poured in his favorite mix of oils, I used a quick spell to vanish his clothes and coaxed him into the tub. Normally, I would sit in front of him, but this time, I settled behind him, letting his head rest against my chest.
As we sat there, I couldn’t help but slowly massage the muscles in his chest and arms. It made him melt against me. After about ten minutes, he was completely relaxed—and I was loving it. I almost thought he’d fallen asleep, but then I felt a wave of lust washing over me, strong and sudden.
I knew it was coming from him.
He gently lifted himself off me and turned, shifting in the water until he was facing me. Then he leaned in, kissing me—and gods, the man could kiss like a god. His hands slowly cradled my waist, pulling me closer. I could feel how aroused he was, and I smiled into his kiss.
I wiggled against him, and he growled low in his throat.
Without a word, he rose from the water, muscles flexing with every smooth, deliberate movement, and lifted me effortlessly into his arms. My wet skin clung to his, and I shivered as the cooler air hit us.
He carried me out of the tub with quiet command, setting me down at the edge of the bed before reaching for one of the thick towels. Then he began to dry me.
Not with magic. With his hands.
He started at my shoulders, the towel warm and textured against my damp skin. He dragged it across my collarbone, down my arms, pausing to squeeze gently around each wrist before moving lower. His gaze stayed locked on mine, intense and focused.
Then he dropped to his knees.
The towel moved down my torso, lingering over my breasts just long enough to make me suck in a breath, before he slid it slowly down to my hips. I could barely breathe. Every motion was deliberate. Worshipful. Torturous.
His knuckles grazed my thighs as he dried them, and I had to grip the edge of the bed just to keep from trembling. When he finally moved to my calves and feet, his touch light and teasing, he looked up at me through his lashes—smirking like he knew exactly what he was doing.
He stood slowly, water still glistening on his skin in places where it hadn’t fully dried. His muscles shifting with every controlled movement. His hair—damp and tousled—framed his face in dark waves. He reached for another towel but didn’t rush.
He made a show of it.
First his chest, dragging the towel over each shoulder, across his collarbone, and slowly down over his abs. I swallowed hard, cheeks burning. His eyes never left mine, and that only made it worse.
Then his arms. Every pass of the towel felt like something far too intimate to be watching, but I couldn’t look away—even if I wanted to. My face was on fire, and my heart was pounding, but he was just so beautiful. So confident.
When he finally dried his hips, I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from making some kind of sound. By the time he was done, I was already half undone.
And he knew it.
He stepped closer and pushed me gently on my back onto the bed..
"You have no idea how I have fantasized about you these last weeks," Loki said huskily into my ear. "About all the things I wanted to do to you when I would see you again."
I could feel him grin against my skin as he slowly kissed my neck. He shifted slightly to give his hand more room, and it slid lower.
I gasped as his fingers entered me, slow and deliberate. He began to pump them in and out, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, wanting to kiss him—but there was a mischievous glint in his eyes. A flash of magic, and I felt something fasten around my wrists.
He took my hands in his and gently pulled them over my head, somehow locking them to the headboard. There was nothing visible to hold me, but I couldn’t move. My arms were trapped above my head, held by an invisible force.
Whatever spell he’d used, it was clever—anchored to a point that seemed to adjust with my position. I could still shift slightly, but not escape. I was completely at his mercy.
His fingers pulled back a bit to spread my slickness, and I couldn’t help but stare up at him. He looked as hungry and lustful as I could feel he was. He seemed very pleased with his work, especially when I moaned as his thumb began to gently circle my clit.
He wrapped one arm around my waist and pulled me down a bit, making my arms strain slightly against the restraints. Then he slowly lowered his mouth to my breasts and began to suck them, causing me to arch into him.
After a moment, he stopped. I peeked through heavy eyelids and saw him looking at me again.
"I felt like a young boy again," he said as he moved to my side, and I whimpered when his hand slipped away from my folds. "Lying alone at night and waking to find myself hard and horny because I dreamt of you."
With a fluid motion, he gently rolled me onto my side, my back pressed to his chest. His hands guided my leg back until it was resting over his, and he pulled me flat against him. Then he shifted me just enough to ease the strain on my arms. His head was next to mine now, lips close to my ear—and I could feel his hand return to my core.
But it was hard to focus. His erection was pressed firmly against me. I wanted him so badly—but I could tell he was enjoying this dominating streak he was on.
He moved his hips, teasing my entrance with his tip, and my head dropped back against him. He immediately claimed my mouth, kissing me until I was breathless.
"In my mind, I fucked you so hard," he whispered in my ear—and with one swift motion, he thrust into me completely, making me cry out.
His left arm slipped beneath me and curled around my torso as he began to play with my breast. His right hand was still circling my clit, soft and steady. He was fully inside me now—but he didn’t move.
"Tell me, my love. How do you want it tonight? Slow?" He moved his hips in a slow, torturous rhythm.
"Or fast?"
Suddenly, he was slamming into me like there was no tomorrow. I rolled my eyes back and gasped, unable to speak.
Then he stopped again.
"You have to tell me," he whispered mischievously, kissing my neck again.
"Please... fast," I moaned, unable to say more. Having him inside me like this, not moving, was absolute torture.
"I love it when you beg for my cock," he said, voice low and rough, like he was barely holding himself back.
Then he started moving—hard, fast, deliberate.
I cried out, pushing my leg further over his to give him more room. The angle was devastating. Each thrust hit deep, and I could feel him everywhere—stretching me, claiming me, filling me like he’d been starving for this. For me.
His body pressed tight behind mine, his hips slamming into me with every motion. I could hear him breathing hard against my neck, each exhale hot and uneven.
"You feel it too," he growled softly. "This… need. You ache for me."
I couldn’t even speak. I just nodded, my head dropping back against his shoulder.
"You should see yourself," he whispered. "Writhing beneath me. Arms bound. Legs spread. So wet and desperate for my cock you can barely think."
His hand slid from my hip, bracing me as he thrust harder, and I moaned, high and broken. The sounds were escaping me before I could catch them. I was too far gone to feel embarrassed.
"You love giving up control, do you not?" he murmured, his voice like velvet wrapping around my spine. "You love knowing you cannot stop me. That I can do whatever I want to you. That you trust me enough to let me."
I moaned again, arching helplessly against him, and that made him smile. I could feel it against my throat.
"You do not even need to say it," he went on. "I feel you—every flutter, every tremble. Your whole body is begging for it."
I could barely take a breath, let alone form words. My arms strained at the restraints, but they held firm, forcing me to stay open to him. Exposed. His.
He slid his hand back down between my legs, and I gasped as he brushed my clit—once, twice—just enough to send sparks through me. Then he pulled away again, letting me drop back from the edge with a whimper.
"Not yet," he whispered. "You are not ready."
He kissed my neck, slow and teasing, before trailing his tongue along the line of my jaw. I could feel his cock pulsing inside me, thick and hard and completely unrelenting, moving at just the pace to undo me inch by inch.
"You will not come until I say," he breathed. "Not until I feel you fall apart beneath me. Not until you scream for it."
His hips rolled deeper, grinding against me in a way that made my vision go white for a second.
"Please, Loki," I choked out. "Please, I—"
"That is not begging, love," he cut in, almost amused. "That is barely even trying."
He slipped out just enough to make me whine—and then slammed back into me hard enough to make the headboard jolt.
"You will beg properly," he growled. Your wrists tied. With your voice shaking and your body begging to come. That is what I want."
I whimpered, the edge pulling me closer again—tight, unbearable, too much.
His Seiðr surged over me again, brushing my clit in steady circles, replacing his hand with perfect, torturous pressure. My whole body tensed, my legs shaking.
"You want to come so badly, do you not?" he whispered. "You are soaked for me. You are trembling."
His voice dropped to a low, brutal murmur right at my ear.
"You are mine," he growled, voice thick with possession. "Ask me. Beg me to come on my cock."
"Please—Loki—please let me come. I can’t—I need to—"
"Say it," he snarled.
"I want to come for you," I gasped, shaking. "Please—let me—let me come on your cock—"
"Now," he snapped.
He pounded into me, relentless, and the magic on my clit pushed me over the edge so violently I screamed. My orgasm hit like a lightning strike—blinding, overwhelming, a full-body surrender. My back arched, my arms pulled tight against the restraints as I cried out his name, everything else forgotten.
He came a heartbeat later, with a growl so deep it rattled against my back. His body tensed as he spilled inside me, one final thrust burying him to the hilt—and then came the bite. Sharp and claiming, right at the curve of my neck.
It hurt just enough to anchor me in the flood of everything else. But not enough to diminish the pleasure coursing through me—instead, it added to it. And I craved it.
For a few long moments, we didn’t move. Just breathing. Panting. Letting it wash over us.
Then I felt the soft tingle at my wrists, and the restraints vanished. My arms fell free—limp and trembling.
I turned into him, more out of instinct than choice. Shaky and boneless, I let myself collapse into his warmth. He caught me without hesitation, pulling me close, tucking me tightly against his chest.
His hand began stroking slow circles down my spine, but I couldn’t relax. I felt shaky, tears stinging behind my eyes, and I had to fight not to start crying for no reason.
It didn’t make sense.
The sex had been incredible—the best. He’d made me feel everything, and I’d loved it. Every second. Every sensation. But now… now I felt unsteady. My chest was tight. My hands were cold. I was shaking, and those damn tears were impossible to stop.
Then something shifted in Loki.
His attention snapped to me—sharp and focused. He felt it the moment it began. My confusion. My body’s betrayal. The way something inside me dipped, hard and fast.
He said nothing.
Didn’t ask.
He just acted.
His arms tightened around me, not possessive—grounding, anchoring. He pressed a soft kiss to my temple. Then another to my shoulder. He pulled the blanket up around me with a sweep of magic, wrapping us in warmth. His body curved around mine, his chest solid against my back, one hand covering my heart like he was trying to steady its rhythm with his own.
And then—his voice.
A low murmur, right at my ear. Calm. Steady. Gentle.
"You're alright, my love. I've got you."
"I’m here. Just breathe."
His fingers drifted through my hair, smoothing it gently. He touched my cheek, my jaw, my arm—small, slow movements. Loving. Tender. No pressure. No questions.
"You’re safe with me. Nothing’s wrong."
"You don’t have to think. Just stay with me."
His voice stayed low, rhythm like a lullaby. I let myself listen, let the sound of him become everything. That voice—so familiar, so grounding—it filled in the empty spaces that had started to open up inside me.
"And you were so perfect. So good for me. So beautiful when you let go."
"You are mine, and I am yours. I will always take care of you."
And somehow… it worked.
My breathing evened out first. Then the trembling slowed. The pressure in my chest began to lift.
He didn’t let go.
His presence was like a steady pull, guiding me back down from the edge I hadn’t even realized I was standing on. The softness of his voice, the warmth of his body, the slow circles his thumb traced against my skin—it all blended into something that wrapped around me completely.
Only once I felt grounded again—only once I stopped shaking and my thoughts returned to something close to normal—did I finally speak.
"I love you," I whispered. "I’m sorry about that… I really don’t know what happened." My voice was raw and quiet, but steady.
I felt Loki smile against my skin, his breath warm against my cheek.
"I love you too, little one," he said softly. "I am here. Do not worry. This happens sometimes when things get too intense."
There was a pause. Then he pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes, his hand cupping my cheek, his thumb brushing gently across the skin beneath my eye.
"You started to dip," he said gently—just explaining, inadvertently answering the question I’d asked myself moments before.
I blinked, still feeling the edge of that strange weight I hadn’t been able to name.
"It happens when the gap between the ecstasy I gave you and your normal emotional state is so great, your body misinterprets the ecstasy as your new normal. And then, when you return to your baseline, it cannot handle the drop. Compared to the high you felt only moments before, your normal state suddenly feels wrong—too low, too sharp a difference. You become overwhelmed. Confused. Cold. And deeply sad—for no reason at all."
His voice stayed low and soothing, like he was still afraid to jolt me too hard.
"It is like a miswiring of emotion. Instead of feeling full and sated, you feel empty. Wrong."
I swallowed and nodded faintly.
He leaned in and pressed a kiss to my forehead.
"That is why I held you. Why I kept speaking. Why I tried to ground you with my voice and touch. My job is not just to bring you pleasure. It is to care for you after. To make sure you feel safe and steady again."
"And Aurora…" His voice warmed. "No, I do not mind, and I do not find it strange. While I do not like that it makes you feel bad, I know it only happens because I did something very good just moments before. And I also know you could not prevent it, even if you tried. It just happens sometimes."
I smiled, feeling the sincerity behind his words, and I appreciated it more than I could say. I’d been feeling kind of silly, on the verge of apologizing for everything he’d just reassured me about.
"Thank you for that. The kind words. And for taking care of me. Knowing what I need before I even tell you."
I loved this man so much. But every time he did something thoughtful, something quiet and steady like this, it filled me with such a deep sense of safety. I would honestly let him do anything to my body—because I knew how much he loved me, how much he put my well-being before his own.
Just to be sure he knew, I added, "But just so you know, I do like being dominated by you in the bedroom."
Of course, that stupid blush came over me in seconds. And, of course, I was rewarded with one of his most mischievous smiles yet.
"I believe it is quite dangerous to say something like that to the God of Mischief," he said in that devastatingly sexy voice of his.
I just smiled back. "There’s nothing dangerous about saying it to the man I love and trust with my life. And so far, it’s led to some very amazing things." I grinned.
That made him laugh—low and delighted. "We shall keep that in mind when I amaze you next time. Because I must say, I quite liked you all tied up and defenseless. Completely at my mercy."
I didn’t know it was possible to be this aroused by words alone—and still be this tired.
I couldn’t stop a yawn from slipping out.
Loki rolled onto his back so I could settle into my usual spot curled against his side.
"Then it seems only fair that this mattress makes sure you get some sleep," he said, his voice full of love.
I stretched up to kiss his cheek, but he turned at the last second and gave me a proper kiss instead.
"Goodnight, my love," I said softly as we settled down.
"Goodnight," came his warm reply—and within moments, we both drifted off.