The Rise to Heroism {Loki Laufeyson} Book One

Chapter Eleven

Marzia's clothes feel tight on my body. I squirm against the wedgie I've acquired. It doesn't feel very comforting.

Still, I accept what she gave me and found a way to work with it, the shirt clinging to me like a second skin. Her jeans squeeze every inch of my legs and bum, making both appear larger than they truly are. As soon as I escape from... Whatever this place is... I'm buying a change of clothes and never looking back. The sooner I leave this life, the safer I'll be. Nobody else needs to die on my behalf. Blaine's death was my fault - if only I had pushed him aside and let Loki hit me instead. Blaine would still be alive right now, and I'd be at peace with my parents. The parents I lost because of the same man who took the life of my best friend.

"Who's this?" I ask noisily, looking at Marzia's pictures that litter her dresser. I can't help it, anything to take my mind off of Loki.

"Dat iz my broder. 'E's ded." She says casually, as if she's okay with idea of her deceased brother. To add to the indifference, she shrugs, pursing her deep red lips as she fixes her tight bun.

"Oh, okay... wow, awkward..." I stammer, laying the picture back down and turning away.

Marzia smiles. "I'm just kidding. 'E's the Colonel of Loki's army." She stands up from her large vanity, which surprises me. Why would Loki be generous enough to give this kind woman a vanity, but cruel enough to murder thousands of innocent civilians in an attempt to rule the world?

"Did the little bastard buy your whole family?" I cross my arms over my chest, my eyes following her to the place in which she sits on her bed.

"No, 'e just kidnapped me and my broder." She sighs.

"Jesus, this guy is insane!"

"'E's not so bad once you get close to 'im."

"Marzia," I sit next to her. "Do you hear yourself? Loki kidnapped you and your brother. You are now his personal maid while your brother is the leader of Loki's army. Do you not see what's wrong with this picture?"

Marzia looks at me sadly. "Yes, I understand. Ee's just dat he's done so much for me. Given me a home, trained Vito in self defence. Trust me, e'll get better wit time."

I glance down at my thumbs, absentmindedly fiddling them. "I hope so." I mumble, highly doubtful. But deep down, under all of that resent and anger toward him, I hold a sliver of hope that he'll get over my betrayal and move on, letting me go and turning the other cheek. It'll be best if we just forget this ever happened, for both my sake and his.

***

Eventually, I grow tired of the constant wedgie and decide to retrieve my clothes from the jail cell.

Hesitantly, I step inside the giant cement room, rounding the corner to the cell with clothes strewn across the floor. I pad over to them, bending over and slipping out of Marzia's clothes.

"My, my. A sight for sore eyes indeed," Says a gravelly voice. I slip on the rest of my clothes and turn to Loki, who's sitting at the foot of the bed.

Crossing my arms across my chest, I cock an eyebrow at him. "What do you want?" I sneer. He stands and slowly approaches me. He stops just inches away from me, towering over me. It's moments like these that I wish I was taller, so it'd make me feel in control and dominant. But in this case, there was just no winning with a goddamn god.

"I intend to apologize."

"Fine." I say curtly.

"So, I am forgiven?"

"I didn't say that, bub."

"Bub? I am not familiar with that terminology." He blinks.

"Good, then I am in control of this conversation." I smile to myself.

"In control? I think not." He whispers and pulls me against him. "Now, where were we before you so rudely interrupted the intimacy of the moment?"

I push him away. "If I remember correctly, last night ended on a high note with me slapping you across the jaw with a pair of handcuffs." I sneer. "Now, get away from me."

"Becca, I sincerely apologize." He tries.

"Loki, I don't care!" I snap mockingly and try to step past him but he grabs my wrist.

"I will lock you in here. I have no issue with such desperate measures." He hisses and I turn back.

"What are you saying?" I ask skeptically. His tone sounds pleading, but his expression stays firmly cold.

"Kiss me." He demands.

I snort, shaking my head. "Find another prostitute, jackass. I have better things to do than sell myself to the likes of you." I sneer and try for the door again, but he grabs my wrist, spinning me around to face him.

In one swift movement, his bows his head, locking my lips with his. At first, the touch just stings, until it starts to boil. I plow through it, gaining speed on the way. It becomes more fierce by the second and he picks me up. I wrap my legs around his torso. He slams my back into a wall, but still, I stay locked on him.

In between kisses, I gasp for air, drowning in him. He bites my lower lip and I pull away. He searches my face. "Did I hurt you darling?"

I shake your head. "No, just - got a strange feeling."

He smiles. "That's called longing, my love."

Is that what it was? My heart is ponding, palms sweaty, mind racing. Is this what lust feels like?

He sets me down on my feet. I stare up at him and he stares back at me. Again, I feel like a mouse compared to his lion size.

"Now, if you wish for me to leave you be, I shall oblige."

No! That's not what I want at all. If anything, I want him to kiss me again.

"Uh..." Was all that came out of my protest. I curse myself inwardly.

He averts my eyes, walking out of the cell.

"I am sorry for all the pain I have put you through." He says and I watch him as he leaves. Breathless, and confused, I sink down onto the bed, laying back and letting my mind wander.