Obsession (Loki Fanfiction)

Chapter Six:

Isobel...

I sit upright in bed, my heart slamming against my ribcage in protest. My skin, covered by a thin sheen of sweat prickles with fear. His voice hadn't spoken into my mind. This time it had spoken from outside of it. The realisation trickles slowly and incolterantly into my veins.
He was here.
I climb out of bed, draping a dressing gown over myself. I had not been expecting company. I walk out of the room, closing the door quietly behind me. I blindly grope the wall, passing my fingers over the switch before flicking it on. My eyes instantly widen.
He was here.
Loki, known for Mischief and Deception and Lies, having led an alien invasion a year before, murdering innocent civilians before being captured and returned to Asgard, was standing in the middle of my living room. Loki, the one to have been causing my dreams and taking over my mind.
He stood on the centre of the floor, his arms folded over the expanse of his chest. He wore what he had been wearing inside my dream: a simple green shirt, leather trousers and leather overalls. His hair was tousled like he had recently been running his hands through it and he was grinning an inexplicable tooth - filled smile. His eyes were dark and dilated.
"Isobel," he says.
The mention of my name causes a shiver to crawl unexpectedly down my spine.
"What are you doing here Loki?" I demand. Silver. My eyes pass over an abandoned knife. I press my back against the kitchen counter. He chuckles darkly and steps towards me.
"If I could have you kneel, I would," Loki sighs almost out of disappointment. My fingers brush the metal of the knife.
"Don't come any closer," I threaten, despite the bitter metallic taste against my tongue and increasing heart rate. Ignoring me, Loki takes another step.
"Your bravery really is quite astonishing Isobel," he says.
He stands to a stop, close enough for me to look at him clearly. Chiselled and sculptured cheekbones. Thin white lips. Immaculate flawless skin. Eyes the colour of emeralds. A beauty that was only skin deep.
"I am certain you have questions for me?" he inquires amusingly.
"Oh, I have questions." I take a step towards him. "Why me?"
Loki's expression changes.
"Why me?" he repeats.
"Yes," I answer firmly. "Why me? Why appear inside my dreams? Why speak inside my mind? What have I done to deserve this from you?"
Although his features soften, there is a undermining cold and ruthless hunger inside his eyes.
"Nothing," he answers simply. "You have done nothing. But, Isobel Jones, it is you I need, more than anyone."
"By almost killing me?" I growl. "Convincing me that I was half - mad? By - by calling me a mewling quim!"
"You did defy me," Loki says calmly. "You shouldn't have told that mortal woman. It is fortunate for you that she didn't believe you."
I blink.
"Excuse me?"
"She has never believed you," Loki sneers. "I have looked into her mind. She thinks that you are a hopeless case and cannot be helped."
I glare at him.
"You're lying."
"Oh no." He shakes his head. "Not this time."
My fingers clutch the knife. Without consulting my mind first, I jerk my arm upwards before plunging the knife into his side. Loki staggers backwards, groaning as his hands fumble for the blade. He bends forward, grasping its handle. I expect blood, but there isn't any, if none at all. Loki's body shakes. That's when I realise he is shaking uncontrollably of laughter.
"Not bad," Loki grins, effortlessly removing the blade from out of him without pain or blood. He hands it back to me.
"Alas, I'm afraid you cannot kill me Isobel, for I am only a hologram."
It was true; slightly transparent, his skin was pale with unrefined edges. I slam the knife down onto the counter, scowling.
"Since I can't kill you, what do you want?"
"You."
I hadn't been expecting that for an answer.
"Okay," I say slowly. "What for?"
Loki turns, guesting a translucent hand towards the weapon.
"As you may be aware, I am imprisoned. I have had the opportunity of apologising for what I did, but I will not. I will never apologise to that old fool." He enunciates the last word with absolute revulsion. "So I cannot be freed. But you Isobel Jones, you can help me with this weapon of yours."
"How -"
"I have known for a while," Loki says quietly. We face one another, although Loki's height looms over me like a shadow. "I had my suspicions throughout my rein on Midgard. It wasn't until Stark mentioned it mistakenly in front of myself that I realised that this weapon was in existence."
I mentally restrain myself from screaming. Stark! When would he ever learn to keep his mouth shut? I roll my eyes inwardly.
"I see the weapon. Do not deny that I am mistaken. Your intention is to finish it."
Loki had clearly been doing his research. I draw back a sigh.
"Yes," I feel defeated. "I do, but I am doing this for SHIELD. If you believe that I will just hand over a piece of weaponry as powerful as this -"
"No," Loki's response is swift. "I don't believe you would hand it over to me so easily."
"Then...why exactly are you here?" I have never been more confused, talking to a hologram of a criminal Norse God gone three in the morning. It was certainly something impressive to tell on a drunken night out.
"Because I can convince you."
Without warning Loki trails long callused fingers down the length of my bare arm. I flinch at the immediate contact.
"I have two objectives. I either convince you to hand it to me through violence and pain, or you can decide to give it to me, and I will return you my affection."
"Affection?" My mind instantly recalls the first dream I had received.
"I will be the first man to kiss you..." I whisper.
Loki nods, his eyes bright.
"Yes," he breathes. "I will love you. I will openly give you a direct insight into my soul. You can possess me, obsess me, love me at you own desire and I in return."
Loki had just given me permission to see into his soul. Was this even possible?
"How do I know that you aren't just using me to get to the weapon?" I ask."What are you planning to do with it if I decide to give it you?"
Loki's green eyes glimmered. He leans towards me, his mouth hovering beside my ear.
"Many great, glorious things," he whispers. I feel his cold breath, enticing and seductive against my naked throat. This shouldn't feel right - but it does.
"No matter what decision you make Isobel, I will have this weapon. You are mine."
On 'mine', he gently tilts my head back, his fingers cupping my face as he brushes his mouth over the skin of my throat. His touch causes me to move beneath him, moaning quietly in pleasure.

You will be mine, and mine alone...

A moment he is there, kissing my skin. The next he is gone, nothing more than laughter or a smile left inside his presence.