The Rise of Hel {Loki Laufeyson} Book Two

Chapter Nine

"Tea?" I stop screaming and hesitantly open my eyes. Loki sits across from me, holding out a cup to me. A mahogany table separates us, the shiny wood gleaming in the chandeliers light from overhead. The room is covered in victorian wallpaper with gold trim lining the walls and furniture. I'm in the dining room of a palace.

My eyes lock with Loki's, his expression dangerously calm.

"Shit!" I exclaim, scrambling out of my chair. "Where am I? Why is your girlfriend attacking the hospital? Also - how in the hell does she know my name?"

His face twists. "Valhalla is my daughter - I find incest to be highly inappropriate; no matter how stunning my offspring may be. Also, she doesn't. She knows your real name - she's just using the fake one to be hospitable."

I roll my eyes and sit back down. "How sweet of her." I say, my tone dripping with sarcasm. In the corner of my eye, I spot his features change, twisting into a mournful look. I lean in, snatching the tea from his hands and splashing it into his pale face. He blinks, hesitating before screaming then regaining his composure. "You should know that I'm trying my hardest not to kill you." He says, aggravated.

"Ah, I see where she gets it from." I squint, eyeing him.

He waves a hand over his face, instantly drying and removing the tea. Smiling, he claps. "Well, onto the reason to which I called you here for."

"No - you didn't answer my questions." I interupt him.

He appears unamused with my demands. "Well, you didn't answer my calls." He replies.

"Cocky little bastard, aren't you?" I observe and he smiles.

"Mischief is literally in my job description."

I throw my head back, sighing loudly. "Why did you save me?"

"You know why." He's not wrong. I do know why. It's because he still thinks that deep down, I know who he is - that I'm still in love with him. But no matter how deep I dive, nothing surfaces. The block is too strong.

"Well, you'll have to remind me." I say instead, not willing to break his heart by telling him the honest truth.

"I saved you because I love you." Love. That's why. Love that is not mutual.

I bite my lip, rubbing my jawline - a nervous gesture I have acquired over the years. A complete stranger, intent on loving me. I've seen it in movies, TV shows - strangers bumping into each other on the street and instantly falling love, chasing the other until they give up and succumb to their passion for each other, but this is different. I've never met Loki, aside from the other few instances in which I've been transported due to my ring - but he's insane, convinced that I love him, adore him and just don't remember it. Not only do I now remember it, I also don't reciprocate it.

"So, have you regained your memory?" He asks and I squirm in my seat. Really, he's the only one to have actually asked me. The others have just assumed.

"Yes and no," His eyes light up. "I know that I'm not me, I just don't know why."

"I could tell you why. I was the one that took your memory in the first place." He sips his tea, watching me and my reaction. I don't give him any satisfaction, suppressing my sparking anger.

One thing I've acquired from my mother is her ability to hide her emotions. She's like f**king Houdini with the amount control she has on her emotions. You'll never know when she's hurting, or angry, or lying to your face. She's amazing, and thankfully, that's about all I got from her.

So, I smooth my face into a look of indifference and answer. "So you were the cause of this?"

He smirks behind his china. "Yes." I want to rip that sly smile right off of his porcelain face. Moron.