Chapter 55
It started soft—slow and aching with longing. Then it deepened, all hunger and relief. His arms closed around me, his mouth claiming mine like he’d been starving for it. I gasped against him, my fingers tightening in his shirt as his tongue slid against mine. My knees went weak, and his hands gripped my hips tighter, grounding me.
And then it hit me.
Revulsion. Horror. Ice in my veins.
He wasn’t alone.
There was still a soul in his head. Someone else. Watching.
I broke the kiss and shoved him back—hard.
He stumbled, catching himself with wide eyes. “Aurora?” he asked, breathless. “What—?”
“You can’t,” I said, panic rising in my throat. “You can’t! He’s still there, Loki. He’s in your head. Watching me—watching us—I can’t—I won’t—”
Loki blinked. Then his expression shifted to recognition. Like something had just clicked into place.
“Oh gods,” he breathed. “Is that what you thought?”
I stared at him, heart pounding, chest tight.
He let out a slow breath and stepped closer, his voice low and serious.
“Aurora… I would never have touched you like that if he were still inside me. I would never defile you like that. Never risk it. You mean too much to me.”
I didn’t move.
“I swear to you,” he said. “As part of my agreement to help Angrboda, I told her I would only cooperate if she removed the soul first. Not after. Before. That was my one condition. And she did it. She had no choice.”
My eyes searched his face, desperate for any sign of a lie—but there was none. Just honesty. Steady. Fierce.
“She removed him?” I whispered.
He nodded. “And she cannot put him back. I made that clear.”
Relief slammed into me so fast my knees nearly gave out. I covered my face with both hands and let out a long, broken breath.
“Thank the gods…”
Then I felt him again—closer now. His presence like a pull, warm and electric. The heat of his hunger coiling around me.
“No more monsters in my head,” he said softly. “No more distractions. Just me.”
I looked up.
He was stalking toward me, eyes dark and sure.
“Which means,” he murmured, reaching for me, “you have no reason to stop me now.”
And this time—I didn’t want to.
Loki didn’t hesitate.
His mouth crashed into mine, wild and unrelenting, all teeth and tongue and fire. There was no patience this time, no tenderness—just raw need, bottled fury and fear and longing boiling over in a single kiss that knocked the breath from my lungs. I didn’t care. I clung to him like I’d die without him.
His hands slid up my back, tangled in my hair, pulling hard enough to make me gasp. He took the sound straight from my lips, drinking it in like he’d been starving for me. Maybe he had. Maybe we both had.
He broke the kiss just long enough to speak, his voice low and dangerous against my ear.
With a flick of his fingers, my clothes vanished in a whisper of Seiðr. Cold air kissed my skin as I stood completely bare before him, flushed and breathless. His eyes swept over me like he owned every inch—and gods, I wanted him to.
He stepped back, just enough to vanish his clothes with a wave of his hand. Then he was on me again—slamming me back against the nearest wall, one hand tangled in my hair, the other gripping my thigh and hauling it high around his waist.
His breath dragged across my throat, warm and sharp all at once. I felt caged—and gods, I needed it.
Because my mind wouldn’t stop. Not even now. The baby. The secret. The truth about Loki’s heritage—what Eir had told me. What I wasn’t allowed to share yet.
Even as his body pressed into mine, even as his mouth burned along my neck, I felt it all—clawing inside me, guilt and dread and secrets I couldn’t speak. It made me want to scream. Or sob. Or both.
And of course, he felt it.
His thumb brushed my cheek, slow and careful. The bond between us sparked with rising tension, and I saw it in his eyes—the flicker of concern, the subtle shift in his breath.
“Aurora…?” he asked softly, trying to catch my gaze. “What’s wrong?”
I froze. Gods, no. I couldn’t let him in. Not now. Not with this. If he asked the right questions, if he pressed—he’d feel everything. He’d know.
Before he could say another word, I surged up and kissed him—deep, hard, a full-body distraction. My fingers tangled in his hair as I dragged my nails down the back of his neck, pulling him closer, pressing my body flush to his.
I kissed him like I needed him to forget. Because I did.
I needed my mind to shut up. I needed him to make it go quiet. I needed rough hands and bruising kisses and the kind of ache that would drown out everything else.
But when I pulled back for breath, he still looked too focused. Still reading me too closely.
So I did the only thing I could think of.
I smirked.
Then I dragged my nails up his bare chest—sharper this time, just enough to make him hiss—and tilted my head like I wasn’t the one unraveling inside.
“Something wrong, your highness?” I purred, giving him the most infuriatingly smug look I could muster. “You look like you’re thinking too much.”
His eyes flared. The shift in his stance was immediate. All hesitation gone.
“A brat tonight, are we?” he asked, voice dropping low.
I shrugged, running one hand down between us and brushing boldly over the hard line of him. “Maybe. Unless you’re too tired to handle it.”
That was all it took.
A low growl rumbled from his throat—and then I was back against the wall, his hands pinning mine above my head, his mouth crashing into mine with a bruising force that stole every thought from my mind.
“You think I won’t make you beg?” he growled against my lips. “You think I’ll go easy on you because of everything that’s happened?”
“I think,” I breathed, panting, “you’re still talking.”
He barked a dark laugh, one hand sliding down between us. “Careful,” he murmured, voice thick with warning. “Push me too far and I’ll break you.”
“Promise?” I whispered, eyes flashing.
He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.
His mouth crushed mine, tongue claiming, devouring, until my knees buckled and he caught me effortlessly, backing me toward the bed like a predator herding prey. My body trembled from the sheer force of him—his hunger, his need, his control.
And for a breath, I let him have it.
Until my mouth betrayed me.
“You must be tired,” I muttered between kisses, biting his bottom lip just hard enough to sting. “Should I let you take a nap first?”
He froze. Then he growled—and I felt it in my bones. His grip on my waist tightened.
“You really want to push me tonight?” he said, low and dangerous. His voice was like a storm building behind my spine.
I gave him the smallest, most innocent smile I could manage. “I’m just saying, if you’re too exhausted…”
That was all it took.
He threw me onto the bed with a growl and climbed after me like a predator. I rolled quickly onto my side, facing him as he loomed over me—and smirked.
“Or is this the part where you get all growly and tell me to behave?” I teased.
His hand closed around my ankle and yanked me down the bed in one smooth, brutal pull. I squealed, laughing, even as my heart thundered.
“You think this is funny?” he snapped, voice rasping with arousal.
I lifted my hips, rolled onto my back, and stretched like a cat beneath him. “I think you like it.”
His nostrils flared. “You believe I will not punish you for that mouth?”
“I think you’re my guardian,” I whispered with a mischievous grin. “Punishing me is hardly in your repertoire.”
A pause. His pupils blown wide.
Then he snapped.
He grabbed my wrists and pinned them above my head, straddling my thighs with his full weight. I writhed beneath him, gasping as he leaned down, his breath hot against my cheek.
“I think you’re confused,” I said sweetly, glancing up at him. “You’re supposed to be the clever one. And yet… here you are, still trying to catch up.”
He stilled.
His gaze sharpened in an instant, locking on mine like a predator recognizing the game. I felt it through our bond—the snap of tension, the crackling energy behind his restraint. He saw it. Saw through me. Knew I was pushing him. On purpose.
“You desire this,” he said, voice like dark velvet drawn tight. “You are begging for punishment… but you will not admit it.”
I didn’t flinch. Just tilted my chin, defiant. Let him see the dare in my eyes.
He moved so fast I barely had time to inhale. His legs forced mine apart, hips locking my waist into the mattress—hard and unforgiving. One hand wrapped around my throat, firm but careful—just enough to make me still, to make me feel the edge of danger without ever fearing him.
“You want rough?” he snarled. “You need it, do you not?”
Yes. Gods, yes. I needed to drown everything out—the secrets I couldn’t tell him, the terror curling in my stomach, the ache of what I was hiding.
I needed this to burn loud enough to silence everything else.
I whimpered, “Yes.”
He did not hesitate.
He shoved into me in one savage thrust, forcing a strangled cry from my throat. There was no easing in. No teasing. Just raw possession. His hands braced at my hips, fingers digging in, holding me in place as he began to drive into me—hard and fast, relentless.
“Look at you,” he growled, slamming deeper. “Acting like a brat just to get what you desire.”
“Not acting,” I gasped. “You’re just finally noticing.”
Another thrust—deep, punishing. My legs nearly gave out.
“I shall give you something to notice,” he growled.
Then I was weightless.
He lifted me clean off the bed like I was nothing, his hands gripping my thighs, spreading me around his hips. There was no wall behind me, no bed beneath me—just Loki. His body. His strength. His cock buried deep as he held me suspended in the air and kept fucking me like I was made for it.
My arms flew around his neck, the only anchor I had. I clung to him, nails digging into his back, gasping with every bounce as he used me, moved me, owned me.
I buried my face in his throat and bit down.
He grunted, nearly losing rhythm, and his grip on me tightened like steel.
“You brat,” he growled.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered against his skin as I licked the teeth marks. “Am I too much to handle tonight?”
A low, vicious sound tore from his throat.
“You wish to play it that way?” he hissed. “Then hold on.”
And he started to move faster—lifting and dropping me on his cock with brutal rhythm, his muscles straining, his breath ragged in my ear. My whole body burned, and I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe—only feel.
“Say my name,” he demanded.
“Make me,” I panted.
His hand slipped between my thighs, rough fingers circling my clit while he continued to pound into me, hips snapping with ruthless precision.
My vision blurred. The world disappeared. It was only him—his voice, his hands, his body using mine like it was his. And gods, it was.
We collapsed in a tangled heap as I cried his name, breathless, wrecked—and for one blissful moment, everything was quiet.
And I didn’t have to think.
But then, everything I had been holding in rushed forward, and I couldn’t stop it. The tears came, raw and heavy, spilling down my cheeks. Soft, desperate sobs I couldn’t suppress, even if I tried. It wasn’t loud, but it was real.
Loki froze, his chest still rising and falling with his own shallow breaths. His body went tense for just a moment, then he shifted, pulling me closer into his arms, his grip firm but gentle—like he knew I needed to be held through this.
I felt his lips press softly to the top of my head, his voice low and steady. “Let it out, Aurora.”
His words wrapped around me like a warm blanket, and I let go. The sobs weren’t loud or frantic, just the quiet release of everything I had been holding in—pain, guilt, fear. The weight of it all slowly melting away.
I could feel his thumb brush the back of my neck as his arms held me tighter, grounding me, letting me cry without rushing me, without trying to fix anything. He didn’t try to stop me or ask what was wrong. He just let me cry.
It was as if he knew I needed this. That this was something I had to release, something I had to feel. His presence calmed me, even in the midst of my quiet sobbing.
Eventually, the tears slowed, though the weight in my chest didn’t quite fade. Loki didn’t say anything, but he pulled me even closer, his warmth enveloping me. He stroked my hair softly, gently, as if I were a fragile thing. And I could feel his understanding without needing words.
When I finally stopped crying, I stayed in his arms, breathing shakily, my forehead resting against his chest. His heartbeat was steady, grounding me, reminding me that I wasn’t alone in this.
“I am here,” he murmured again, his voice soft but full of certainty. “Always.”
The soft warmth of his skin against mine was grounding, familiar. I shifted carefully, feeling the ache in my body. The soreness was deep, but it wasn’t just physical. It was as though every part of me had been stretched to its limit, my heart and soul opened wide.
I felt… tender. Vulnerable, so very fragile, but the weight of what I’d been carrying—the fear, the guilt, the pain—was still there, lurking beneath the surface, even as I felt lighter.
I reached out, fingertips brushing over the hard line of his chest, tracing the scar just above his ribs. His breath hitched, a small noise escaping his lips as I moved closer, kissing the warm skin of his neck, the scent of him—of us—still lingering in the air.
My body trembled with a need I hadn’t quite expected. It wasn’t just desire, not like before. It was something deeper. A longing to feel him, to connect with him in a way that went beyond what we’d already shared.
I couldn’t help it. My lips found his, soft and slow, tasting the remnants of our earlier passion. He shifted beneath me, his body responding to mine with the slowest of movements. His hand found its way to my back, pulling me closer.
“You need rest,” he murmured, though his voice was hushed, as if the quiet between us was sacred.
I ignored him, tracing my hands down the ridges of his back, feeling the strength there, the way his body had held mine with such care and ferocity. Every inch of him was familiar, and yet this time, it felt different. This time, I needed him in a way I couldn’t fully express.
“I need you,” I whispered, breathless as I kissed his chest, moving lower.
His cock stirred against my thigh, and I felt it—slow and heavy—brushing against my skin. There was no urgency. No rush. Just an overwhelming need to feel him, deep inside me again, but this time, slower. More tender. To take my time and savor every moment.
“I want to remember this,” I whispered, fingers tracing down his stomach, teasing the edges of his hips. “I want to feel you.”
Loki’s breath caught, his eyes opening to meet mine. The hunger in them was there, but it was tempered with something else. Understanding. Patience. The kind of patience that made me feel like I was the most important thing in the world to him.
He rolled on top of me, moving slowly, deliberately. I winced just slightly at the initial stretch, the soreness still lingering in my body, but it didn’t deter me. I welcomed him—slowly, carefully—moving against me, not with the brutal speed of earlier, but with a depth I had never felt before.
His lips found mine again, gentle and searching. I kissed him back, matching his rhythm, letting every part of me sink into him.
His cock slid inside me with agonizing slowness, the sensation deep and intense. Every inch felt like it was leaving a mark on my soul. I could feel it—everything. The way he was holding back, the way he was touching me as though I was something fragile. His hands were everywhere—my hips, my chest, my hair. He was memorizing me with his touch, as I was doing the same to him.
I could feel the bond between us, like a low hum, a steady rhythm that matched the pulse of our bodies. His heart beating with mine. The way he knew me. Understood me. The weight of his presence anchored me, made me feel like I was floating and grounded at the same time.
His hands gripped my hips gently, pulling me closer, his thrusts slow and deliberate. Each movement seemed to stretch out forever. Every stroke was drawn out, as if he wanted to savor it, to make it last longer than it ever could.
I moved with him, matching his pace, letting my body sink into the rhythm of his. My legs wrapped around him, pulling him deeper, feeling every inch of him as he slid in and out of me, the slow build of pleasure between us like a rising tide.
I gasped as he shifted his angle, hitting me in a way that made my whole body shiver. His lips found mine again, soft and teasing, before trailing down to my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. Every brush of his mouth felt like it was setting me on fire.
“Loki…” I breathed, voice trembling.
He didn’t respond with words. His only answer was a low growl in the back of his throat, his body moving against mine with increasing fervor, but still controlled. Still patient. And I loved him for it. I needed him like this—slow, tender. Taking his time with me.
Every touch, every kiss, felt like it was sealing us together in a way I couldn’t explain. I could feel him inside me—not just physically, but emotionally, the bond between us glowing brighter with every movement.
I could feel the way my body was reacting to him, the slow burn of pleasure building again, tighter this time. But it wasn’t just physical. It was a connection, a link that went deeper than skin, deeper than anything I had ever known.
The pleasure built higher, the tension growing between us, but still, we took our time. Each thrust, each kiss, each whispered word felt like it stretched on forever, as though the world had disappeared around us, leaving only the two of us.
When I finally reached the edge, it was slow. A wave that built steadily, growing until I was trembling beneath him, my body tightening around him as the world fell away. I cried out his name, my fingers digging into his skin as I shattered beneath him.
Loki followed soon after, his grip tightening on me as he buried himself deep, the last of his breath escaping in a broken groan. He held me there, still, locked together, our bodies trembling as the storm of pleasure finally passed.
And in the aftermath, we stayed there, not speaking. Just being. Our bodies intertwined, hearts still beating as one.
For a long time, we didn’t move. We didn’t need to. We had shared something deeper than mere desire. Something that words couldn’t touch.
When he finally pulled me close, his arms wrapped around me, a protective shield. His lips pressed gently to my forehead.
“You are everything,” he whispered again, as if there were no doubt.
And as I lay there, wrapped in his arms, I could only nod. Because he was everything to me too.
As we lay there for a moment. Then I suddenly looked at him.
“So what do we do now?” I asked.
And I could see him shrug.
“We must figure out our next move. Asgard is still in danger, and so are you. We do not have the luxury of waiting,” he said, trying to sound like it was no big deal but failing.
I couldn’t help but grin at his words.
“So we’re not gonna take our time and get too distracted by how good that was?”
I could see his eyes widen.
“Well, when you put it like that,” he said with a mischievous grin of his own. “Suddenly I am very much motivated to do nothing at all and ponder… perhaps see if we could add to it.”
I laughed. If only there were an option to save Asgard by just having ridiculously good sex with Loki. Not only would there never be a problem—we’d have saved the world on a daily basis. But making sure Angrboda was stopped needed to be the first priority. For Asgard. For the people she hurt. For the people she still could hurt.
I opened my mouth to respond when a wave of guilt hit me as I realized I knew nothing about Thor and how he was doing.
“Wait… gods, Thor. I forgot about Thor—how is he?” I asked, my heart lurching up into my throat in fear.
Loki instantly reassured me. “He is alive, my love. Do not worry. I got him back to the camp. It was close, but the healers managed. The army has the best trauma healers in all the Nine Realms. He is still recovering, but he shall be well within a few days. He is Æsir, after all. It takes more than that to bring him down.”
Relieved, I let out a slow breath and nodded. “Good.”
I sat there a moment longer, letting that relief settle in—then exhaled again, this time sharper. “So… back to planning,” I sighed. “How in the world are we going to get out of this giant mess?”
“There are still two problems to solve,” Loki continued. “We must complete the oath you made to Angrboda—complete it in a way that frees you without harm. And we must find and destroy the Skull of Specters.”
I nodded. “So what completes the oath? What ends it without… without anything terrible happening?”
Loki looked at me. “Other than Angrboda releasing you willingly? Or she—or Yrissa—dying at the hands of someone who is not us?” he asked.
I nodded again.
He looked at me after he thought for a while.
“Our best chance is destroying the Skull of Specters. It would release the unwilling souls tied to it—and it will weaken her connection to Yrissa. As soon as Hela takes her back into the underworld, she is once more considered dead. The contract is then complete, because her death is the price she offered if she failed to uphold her end. With her gone, the bargain loses meaning, disrupting the balance and completing the contract. But we still do not know where it is—or what she has done to it using the other magical artifacts.”
I nodded. “Okay, so that’s the first thing we need to look for—the location of the Skull. Seeing as it’s important to her, I doubt she’s got it just lying around unprotected. But now for the second part—my god of mischief… the oath. I know you too well. There’s no way you’re not racking your mind for loopholes as we speak.”
Loki looked at me with a big grin on his face, mischief all over him.
“Yes. She dies if she—or any of her people—do you harm, physically or mentally. That was a weakness on her part. Too many variables. Too many loose ends,” he said, calculating. “While I do not wish to place you in danger, the damage need not be fatal. Someone striking you or cutting you with the intention of doing harm would be enough to trigger her part.”
I scrunched my nose.
“So we destroy the Skull, weaken her hold on Yrissa. Then have Hela take her soul,” I reiterated. “And in the meantime, I’ll piss off every single soul inside this godforsaken rock in the hope they’ll try to hurt me?”
I tried to make fun of it, but I knew Loki could feel how I really felt. I was scared.
“Yes. Just keep in mind—if we manage to destroy the Skull of Specters,” Loki warned, “we—neither you nor I—can be the ones to contact Hela. I fear that would trigger the oath. We swore not to harm Angrboda, and even though Hela would simply take her soul back, it would be viewed as the same as ordering her death. It must be Hela’s choice—or someone else's—not ours. Not by our words or hands,” he said sternly.
I nodded again. I loved him. I loved how his mind worked. The care he took to ensure not just my safety, but ours.
For the first time, I actually felt like there was some hope. And I couldn’t help but pull Loki into a hug to celebrate. I could feel him pull me closer toward him, and I hated the thought of letting go.
“So how do you think we’ll find the location of the Skull?” I asked him as I pulled back from the hug.
Loki seemed to ponder my question for a moment.
“I think it is best for me to investigate and search these caves,” he said resolutely. “I can worm my way into places with my doubles so that I will not be found. Also, if I cannot find it, I believe I might have a good time riling the mercenaries and creating chaos. I can already tell it is difficult for her to keep them all in check. If I cannot find the Skull, then I will make them even more agitated so she is forced to release more souls in order to control them. That would both reduce her army and set them even more on edge, increasing the odds of someone slipping up.”
I nodded.
“Seems like a plan. But what do I do?” I asked.
Loki shook his head. “This part I dread—and keep in mind, I only want you to do this when I am near. When I know you are doing it so I can intervene if it gets out of hand. But I want you to be the biggest possible pain in the ass to any of her people you can be.”
He grinned a sly smile.
“If you had asked me yesterday whether you could pull that off, I would have said it might be a stretch—but after your brat session last night, I believe you will manage.”
I could feel my blush explode across my face, hiding it in my hands in horror.
That made him laugh loudly, and it did my heart good.
““Do not worry, little one,” he said as he pulled me against him again. “While I do not love that your emotions were so heavy, I understand this was your way to vent. I do not mind being challenged like that. If I am honest—it feeds something darker inside me. Keeps it sated. Gives me more room for the lighter emotions.”
He brushed his fingers along my back, letting the quiet linger for a breath.
“But we should eat before your stomach starts a riot,” he said with a crooked smile, just as it growled again.
Then, suddenly, I saw him pause with a thought.
“I do not know what will happen—and I do not want you actively searching for the Skull. But if by any chance you do find it, if you see its location when I am not there… please mark it. I will teach you a magical tracer spell. One that masks itself from others. I am so attuned to your Seiðr that, combined with the tracer spell, I believe I could find it anywhere—even with my eyes closed.”
That made me smile. I hated sitting back and doing nothing, but now we both had a task. Direction. Purpose.
“Sounds like a plan.” I smiled. “Just don’t shut me out again. We do this together.”
He smiled and nodded.
“I have learned my lesson. I shall never shut you out of my plans again,” he grinned. “You seem to get in more trouble if you are left alone. It seems it is better to have you with me doing your own part.”
“Just don’t forget it.” I grinned.
We took a few moments for him to teach me the magical tracer spell. After that, I could hear my stomach growl again, making Loki laugh. This new Seiðr that required more stamina really did wonders for an appetite. Loki decided to scout ahead for a moment to see if he could get us some food.
As he left, I was alone in the bare room, and I couldn’t help but think about this whole situation. We couldn’t directly harm Angrboda, and she couldn’t harm us. Neither of us could leave until the oath was completed. But I knew he would never abandon me, even if he had the chance. Him coming back and surrendering himself was proof of that. I tried to be mad about it, but I couldn’t help but smile. I couldn’t blame him for wanting me safe—because I did exactly the same when he was in danger. If only he would’ve listened to me and not shut me out, we could have created a perfect trap for her. But it was too late for that now.
As my stomach growled again, I couldn’t help but feel a tiny twinge of nausea, and before I knew what I was doing, I was gently stroking my stomach.
Instantly, I was reminded of the little life in my belly and the weight of the information I was keeping from Loki. I let out a big sigh. I knew I had to tell him eventually—but not here. Not now. After this whole mess. And soon. Because I would not go back to Asgard. He needed to be far, far away when he learned. Because I actually feared his reaction. I hoped I’d be enough to keep him together… but I honestly didn’t know.