I had been home for hours. I had been to my bedroom. It had, of course, been empty.
I heard a sound. Someone was in my flat. Someone was in my bedroom. I stood, uncertain whether to investigate or run. I had heard that Prince Loki could travel through mirrors, but I hadn't known whether to believe it.
Agent Barton had warned me that I had caught Loki's eye. However, I hadn't covered or thrown away all my mirrors, like others had. I had told Barton that I hoped that keeping my head down, keeping to my normal little life, I would fade from Loki's mind.
However, some perverse part of me craved the attention of such a powerful being. He was cruel, but he was more attractive than any man I'd ever seen. There was something intriguing about him, almost hypnotic. Once Barton had told me that Loki had noticed me, I couldn't get the idea of submitting to him out of my head. And so I had kept my mirrors.
He strode out of my bedroom.
I was in the presence of Loki, the God of Mischief.
A cruel smile played at the corners of his mouth as he stared me down. The horns of his helmet almost brushed the ceiling. Except for his face, his throat, and his hands, he was covered in leather and metal. A green cape hung from his shoulders. His snug trousers showed me in no uncertain terms what was on his mind.
I dropped to my knees on the carpet, my eyes on his boots. "Prince Loki, have mercy on me, I beg you."
"Mercy? You beg me for mercy?" He laughed, and it made me shiver. "You will get no mercy from me, Daughter of Midgard. Though, please, keep begging for it."
He moved much more quickly than I expected, his hands under my arms, lifting me off the floor to dangle in front of him as I scrabbled impotently at his armoured forearms. "Where shall I take you first, mortal? The bed? The floor? That table?" He nodded toward the kitchen.
My mouth went dry. I had two parallel sets of thoughts: I was amazingly turned on by his intensity and his nearness, but at the same time, I was scared out of my mind. This was Loki; he was a god, or as close to it as to make no difference. I sensed that this would be like a roller coaster ride: there would be no stopping him before it was over. I wondered whether I would live through what was to come.
The evil smirk became a vicious grin as he placed me back on my feet. "Take off your clothes." When I hesitated, he reached out and yanked on my blouse, sending buttons flying. "Now!"
I hurried to strip off my clothes before he decided to destroy them. He surveyed my body, taking his time about it. Moving with that startling swiftness again, he grabbed me and threw me over his shoulder. I screamed.
"Your protests only inflame me more, human," he told me as he carried me into the kitchen. Brushing the post and placemats to the floor, he dumped me unceremoniously on the table, pinning me down with one long-fingered hand on my thigh. The other cupped my breast, tweaking the nipple so that I cried out again. "You were made to be ruled," he snarled. He kissed me, a crushing invasion of my mouth that was all about conquest rather than love. Buckles and armour edges cut into my flesh as he pressed his weight onto me. I made a strangled sound, pain and arousal and fear all mixed together.
Loki laughed in my face as he reached to unfasten a flap at the front of his trousers, revealing that he wore nothing beneath them. His erection sprang free of the confining cloth, even larger than I would have expected a man his size to be, but then again, he was a god.
"I am your god. Worship me," he ordered.
"Prince Loki, my lord, have mercy—" my stammering words turned into a cry of surprise as he thrust himself inside me without warning.
