Birthright

Mission

She took a long swallow of the whisky. It burned a warm, fiery path down her throat. Opening her eyes again, she she stared down into the glass.  She watched as the ice swirled in the amber liquid, leaving little swirls.

Placing it on the bar, she took a deep breath and let out a huge sigh.  How had she gotten mixed up with all this? Abuse of her position. Abuse of her skills.  Abuse of her loyalty to her boss.  It didn't matter how far back you went; the story was always the same.

"You look like you needed that!" A low, not unfriendly voice behind her gave her a start.  She turned and saw a man behind her, twinkling eyes and a wicked smile.

"Oh, you have no idea!" She smirked, holding up the almost empty glass. She downed the rest and put it on the bar.  "Well, that's my limit." She smiled and went to walk past. He held out a hand, catching her arm.

"You sure? I mean, you look like you need more than just the one." He held her firmly but not dominantly. Just enough. She looked at his hand and then back up to his face.  She licked her lips, her eyes settling on his. 

"Perhaps one more then.... Mr...?"

"Torbroder. Thomas Torbroder. My friends call me Tom."

"Well, Tom.... unusual second name, by the way..." she smiled, "one more couldn't hurt."  He nodded and indicated a nearby table. She nodded and walked over, aware he was watching her as she did so.  She didn't find it unpleasant.

As he stood at the bar, Tom smiled to himself.  She was attractive. Blonde, green eyed, air of confidence. Not beautiful in a plastic, traditional way, but there was something in her eyes and in her smile.  He found himself drawn to her, wanting to know more.  A welcome challenge. A diversion from his pain.

Drinks in hand, he returned to the table.  As he walked across, she watched him. He was tall, very tall, and incredibly handsome with a jawline to die for. He wore black jeans, breathtakingly tight. A grey flannel shirt, open just enough to show a hint of chest hair and a fitted black leather jacket.  His hair was below his shoulder, black as night, and several curls fell over his forehead as he sauntered across.

"Cheers!" He handed her a glass, clinking his against it. He downed his in one, slightly open-mouthed gulp. His eyes never left hers. Licking his lips, he sat back, legs planted firmly astride, dominant. She sipped hers, letting the ice tickle her lips. She let the warm alcohol slide down her throat.

"So, want to talk about it?" He asked in a low sultry voice. "Or...."  he leaned forwards and stroked a lock of her hair behind her ear, his fingers trailing along her jaw.  She held his gaze, challenging the handsome stranger.

"You don't even know my name..." she breathed as his mouth drew ever closer.

"Do I need to?" He said softly, his breath whispering over her lips.

"Not unless you want to..."

"Want to what...?" He placed a hand on her cheek and gently kissed her.

"That." Was all she said, eyes closed.

"Sorry." He smirked and winked. "So what is it?"

"What's what?" She opened her eyes as if coming out of a dream.

"Your name darling." He laughed softly.

"Asa - spelt A.S.A pronounced awwsa - Asa. Just Asa."

"Intriguing. Well, just Asa, what brings you to London and gives you cause to need a drink or three?" He slid a hand over hers and squeezed gently. "Not a man, I hope. He doesn't deserve you if he's causing you THAT much distress."

"You're very presumptive, Tom. What makes you think it's a man?" She raised an eyebrow, looking at him intently. He smiled.

"Because I can see in your eyes, feel in your kiss. You're attracted to me as much as I am to you." Now his fingers played softly with her wrist, and she had to fight to keep control.

"Like I said, presumptive. But not wrong. He's been a pain in my side for many years, I'm here in London to ask him to come home. His family needs him. There's... let's just say there's trouble, and he's needed. My feelings don't really come into it." She sighed. "I'm trying not to have any where he's concerned."

Tom looked at her and was struck by just how serious and genuine she was. She was putting her own pain to one side to do this?  He suddenly felt shallow.  All he'd seen was another notch, another attempt to anaesthetise the void in his life. 

"I'm... I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?" He found himself asking before he realised it.  She looked at him, something fleetingly passing over her face.

"Yes." She nodded."Kiss me again?" She smiled, her eyes glinting wickedly, and he grinned. "Then I'm going home, to bed." Tom raised an eyebrow, and she shook her head "alone."  He visibly sagged, and she smiled, running a scarlet nail along his strong jaw. "But if you give me your phone number, I'll call you?"

Tom smiled. " It will be my pleasure...." he kissed her deeply. 

Later that night, Asa sat in her hotel room and looked out the window.  It was dark, and the night was quiet.  A fox scuttled across the road, catching her eye. Instinctively, she turned, watching it.

"Run little fox, run." She smiled and patted the weapon next to her. In another life, she might have turned it into a fine trophy. The dragon fang sword on the bed glinted in the moonlight.

She turned and looked back into the room. Closing her eyes, she spoke softly. "Heimdal, can you see me? It's Asa."

Her eyes snapped open, their normal green replaced by amber.  "Asa, it's Thor." His voice echoed in her head.

"My Prince. I have made contact. Loki is alive and well.  He still has no idea." She sighed.

"You know your mission, Valkyrie. Bring my brother home. One way or another, we need his help. The fate of Asgard depends on him - and you. Do not let me down."

"No, my Prince."  She closed her eyes and nodded. When she opened them again, her eyes were back to their normal green.

Not let him down? She was having a hard enough time not letting herself down. Loki Laufeyson may be the mission. May be the fallen Prince, but dear Gods In Valhalla, he was attractive.  And he kissed like no man she'd ever kissed before. 

Mind you, as everyone said, there were no men like him.