The Sweetest Rose-LokixOC

Chapter 12

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Tires squealing the cab tore away from the curb, splashing Loki and Cassandra with muddy water from the gutter. The driver flipped them off as he swerved into traffic narrowly avoiding clipping the bumper of a convertible.

Counting to ten, Cassandra slowly wiped her cheek, her fingers smeared with oil and other unidentifiable liquid. A cursory look confirmed her beautiful sweater was ruined.

This is the last time she ever rode in a cab with Loki. She smacked him hard on the arm. "Do you have to piss off everyone you encounter?"

Unperturbed, Loki vanished the dirt from his clothes with a wave of his hand. He did not do the same for Cassandra. "I simply asked the man why his girlfriend dumped him. He was complaining about her a great deal."

"No, you stupidly suggested the reason his girlfriend left is because he's lousy in bed. The man was venting. He didn't actually want your take on why he was a lousy boyfriend." She informed him, sidestepping a heap of trash on the edge of the sidewalk.

"The man's a total slob. Of course, he's a terrible lover. I noticed you didn't disagree with me." Loki countered, buffing his nails on his sleeve.

Her lips tightened. For Cassandra an amateur performance in bed would be enough of a reason to leave a guy. She kept her thoughts to herself though not wanting to encourage Loki. She was still furious over his earlier rejection.

Loki was utterly clueless when it came to other people's feelings. He went out of his way to tease her, to arouse her and then he did a complete 180, acting the princess when Cassandra tried to put the moves on him. His hot and cold routine was growing old fast.

She fumed silently, taking in her surroundings.

They were in a seedy part of Brooklyn. The driver dumped them off twenty blocks from their actual destination. After their terrible experience, Cassandra was reluctant to call for another cab but what else were they going to do? Walk back to Manhattan?

A group of grizzled bikers exited an Irish pub with bars on the window. The red neon sign dangled precariously above the door by a couple of wires and blinked erratically. O'Malley's.

One of the drunk men wolf-whistled at her.

Rolling her eyes, Cassandra turned away from the bikers. She was tired, hungry, dirty, and stuck with a major pain in the ass. This was all Loki's fault. He did not know when to shut his trap.

Scrolling through her phone for the cab company's number, Cassandra cursed when the screen went blank. She tapped at the screen and sighed. Great, her battery was dead. "Can I see your cell?"

Loki shrugged and pulled out a sleek black device from his pocket. "Fair warning, I don't know the access code."

Cassandra threw up her hands in frustration. Unbelievable. Who carried a phone around without learning the unlocking code? Wasn't the god supposed to be from a highly advanced society?

She tried her phone again with the same result and gave up. "Come on."

It took a moment for Cassandra's eyes to adjust to the dim interior of O'Malley's. The energy saver light bulbs hardly illuminated anything, casting pools of dark shadows around the low-slung room.

A thick haze hung in the air from the cigarettes dangling from patrons' mouths. Peanut shells crunched under her shoes as she wove through the crowded tables to the bar. Another group of bikers who looked fresh out of prison huddled around a pool table. This place wasn't for the faint of heart. Cassandra mused.