Oh heaven help her, Sigyn’s mind and body reeled as Loki pulled at the roots of her hair, angling her face up to his in a (literally) heated kiss while blindly walking her backward toward his bed. Truly, this man was creating more fire under her skin than her own damn magic.

Her back hit the bedpost, jarring her enough to make her yelp against his mouth, but with his tongue forcing her lips further apart, she barely felt the pain.  Leaning further into him, she let go of his neck and dragged her hands down his torso, then pushed up the hem of his shirt.  She slid her hands under the fabric, pushing it higher, and kissing him harder as she exposed his stomach inch by inch.  Taking the hint, he reached behind his neck, grabbed the back of his collar, and pulled away from her mouth just long enough to yank it over his head.  Her jaw dropped at the view.  Um…talk about a god.

Of mischief.

She had maybe two seconds to gawk at his surprisingly broad shoulders and well-defined (but not overly so) chest, his svelte waist, and the lean v of his hips before he crashed into her again, covering her gaping mouth with his.  Kissing her as though he needed the air from her lungs, he slid his hands up her sides and gripped her just below her ribs, lifting her easily.  Without hesitation, she wrapped her legs around his waist, clinging to him as he climbed onto the fur covers of his bed.

Licking into her mouth slowly, each roll of his tongue over hers moving just that much deeper, he dragged her with him closer to the expansive ebony headboard.  After laying her head on one of many pillows, he propped himself up on his hands.  Leaning over her, his hair fell into his face as he marveled at the sight below him.

With her long dark locks splaying across the sleek fabric, she gazed up at him, her lips swollen and red from his kisses.  Her fair chest and neck had turned just as pink as her cheeks.  His already heavy breathing picked up as the wide straps that held the top of her dress together slid further and further open with each rise and fall of her chest.

He swallowed thickly—Norns, how is this woman MINE?

Could she be more alluring?  She wasn’t even half naked yet.  He was absolutely going to lose his mind when he removed that gorgeous (but awful) garment obstructing his view.  Easing his weight down onto his elbows, he settled his still clothed hips between her thighs, biting his lip as he began a slow grind against her, the friction intensifying the pressing… situation… in his trousers.

He snaked one hand underneath her neck, threading his fingers up into her hair, and as he lowered his face to hers, she leaned up, meeting his lips halfway.  Head tilting, he groaned into the kiss, opening and closing his mouth at a languid pace that turned more than a little frantic when he tightened his grip on her hair.

Not that he was counting the seconds, but that one kiss must have lasted five minutes.  Reluctantly pulling away to catch his breath, he continued slowly rolling his hips between her legs, then trailed a slow line of kisses along her jaw, the tip of his tongue darting out, just barely grazing the hypersensitive pulse point on her neck before closing his lips over her skin.

She moaned loudly in response, her hand flying up to the back of his head, nearly ripping his hair out of the roots while he worked his way down her throat.  Writhing under him, she scraped the black nails of her other hand down the lean muscles of his back.

“Fuck,” he hissed.  Sig had talons.

Face still buried in her throat, he let go of her hair, and fingers splayed, he slid his hand down the middle of her chest.  Her neck was so soft, and it smelled impossibly good, but he needed to get a good look at her, so he pulled away and sat up on his knees.  Smoothing his hands under the top of her dress, getting his first feel of her breasts (oh gods), he pushed the straps over her shoulders, and groaned at the sight.

Valhalla help me—I’ve never been this hard in my life.

His darkened green eyes roved over her newly exposed skin.  She was perfect.  What luck to find a woman with a body as gorgeous as her face.  He licked his lips, aching to see the rest, and grabbed the top of her dress that was now bunched around her waist.  He tried to slide it down over her hips, but— Dammit —the thing was too tight.  Jaw clenching, he tried wiggling it, but even with her arching up a bit to help him, it wouldn’t budge.  Growing frustrated (there must be a hidden tie somewhere!), he growled and ripped the seams apart, the skirt splitting below.

“The Hel?” she lifted her head, scoffing at the ruining of her favorite dress, but then he moved down, putting his head between her thighs, and suddenly she didn’t give a damn about the stupid garment.  Dropping her head back onto the pillow, she moaned, her eyes rolling back. “Oh gods…”

She could have cried from relief in that moment because what Loki was doing to her was beyond anything she’d ever experienced, and it was only his first try with her.  Norns, he deserved a trophy for this.  He had to be reading her mind.  He was just too good at this.  Legs shaking, she blindly reached down to grab the back of his neck, trying to pull him impossibly closer.

Staring intensely at her from under his brow, he slid his tongue over her in achingly slow strokes.  He held her rolling hips steady, watching her neck become taut, her head arching back into the pillow as she bit her lip.  He groaned into her skin, his eyes sliding shut, and loving the feel of her fingers threading through his hair, her nails dragging over his scalp.

He knew she was close, and that she would think he was positively cruel if he stopped now, but no way in Hel would he let her finish like this, not just yet.  No doubt it was misplaced masculine pride, but he wanted to be inside her the first time she came in his bed.  After that, he would happily bring her back to that peak with only his mouth a thousand times.  Reaching behind his neck, he pulled her hands off him and lifted his head, sliding back off the bed.

Unable to form coherent thoughts, Sigyn sobbed internally (no no NO, wait!) at the loss.  He’d left her positively aching now, and she sat up, damn near ready to slap him for it.  She stopped short of doing so, however, and keened his name softly instead when she saw him unlacing his trousers.  Stars above, the grin on his face was positively evil… and absolutely gorgeous.

Removing his boots and tossing them on the ground with a heavy thud, his eyes stayed on hers. His damp hair clung to his forehead, and he exhaled through his mouth as he pushed his trousers down, smoothly stepping out of them.  Gulping, she stared shamelessly when he walked back to the bed and set a knee on the mattress.  She pulled her bottom lip through her teeth.  He was… um…blessed.

Her skin burned as he crawled up her body, nestling his narrow hips between her thighs, instantly pushing into her in one smooth stroke.  Eyes slamming shut, he stayed there, unmoving, a deep groan rumbling in his throat.

“Sig, do not move.”

She was too fucking tight, better than he could have imagined, and damn had he imagined.  The thought of her naked underneath him had been on loop in his head for nearly two months now; here he was, finally, with her toned smooth legs encircling him, yet if he didn’t calm himself, he would never last.

Naturally, he was plenty experienced in bed, however it hadn’t been with anyone significant.  But Sig?— oh gods, this woman was an entirely different story altogether.  Well, wasn’t this just brilliant. He’d devolved into a teen-aged boy in the span of two seconds.

Bloody Hel, get it together, boy!

 He cupped the back of her head, keeping a vice-like grip while kissing her senseless.

“Loki, please,” she rasped against his lips, struggling to remain still beneath him.

Hearing his name catch in her throat was like having his heart squeezed too tight.  No one had ever said his name like that, with that level of desperation.  He still could use another minute to gather himself, to build up some godsdamn stamina, but the tone of her voice shut down his resolve, replacing it with unbearable impatience.

Arching his back, he pulled almost completely out, then slowly rolled his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt again, her resulting moan tickling his ears.  Eyes roving over her face, he settled into a steady rhythm, one long lean arm sliding under her to tilt her up.

“Oh my gods… Sig,” he breathed as she clung to his neck and shoulders.

Norns, he made her name sound positively beautiful.  He made everything beautiful.  He was… unreal.  It made her question if she hadn’t just conjured him up in her mind and was now simply living out the happiest, most beautiful psychosis in the history of the nine. 

No no, he was absolutely real.  His weight on top of her was all the proof she needed— wrapping around her, moving inside her, overwhelming her, suffocating her…gods, he was so heavy, and she could not have loved the feeling more.  How was he doing this?  How how how?  Maybe it was the way he held her, keeping her body at an inclined angle, that let him hit places that no man before him had even come close to.

Bloody Hel, whatever it was, she just hoped he kept doing it.  He was deep.  Almost too deep.  The pressure was intense, straddling the thin line between pain and pleasure, and when he dropped his mouth to hers again, it truly felt like every inch of her body started singing.

Driving into her deep and slow, he licked her bottom lip, barely sucking it into his mouth, and when she pulled his hair, moaning his name in response, he bit down.  Maybe a little too hard.

She hissed, a hint of blood seeping from her split lip.  His pace faltered then, becoming a bit erratic, and he licked the little wound he’d created.  Eyes narrowing, she bit back, pulling his lip between her teeth, and damn did it hurt— he bled, but he didn’t care.  Of all people, he empathized with vengeful acts.  Plus, she’d already bloodied up his back so…seemed to go with the territory.

Intense heat enveloped them, her fire escaping from under her skin, the flames in the hearth burning too hot, and she had a moment of panic.  Shit, was her magic going to kill them?  Not a bad way to go, if she must.  She was so close, so close… legs shaking as her body tightened around him, gripping him harder and harder.  Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods…right there.  Her jaw dropped, and she let out a near silent cry, letting her head fall back.

Loki’s eyes slid shut while the impossibly tight sensation turned to rhythmic pulses around him, and as those sublime pulses dissipated, he reached under her neck to pull her head back up from the pillow, then closed his mouth over hers and buried himself harder and deeper for another ten seconds or so.  Sweating and gritting his teeth, he finished with a sharp hiss against her lips, his fingers digging into her thighs.

“Fucking Hel,” he gasped, collapsing on her, attempting to steady his breathing.

After a moment, he realized he was probably crushing her, so he propped himself up on his elbows.  Fingers twisting in her hair, his eyes locked on hers.

NOW she’s mine.

He knew it was ridiculously possessive— a character flaw, for certain —but he couldn’t help it.  Yes yes of course, she was her own person, not a possession for him to do with as he pleased, but… gods.  He just wanted to keep her forever.  Oh no no no no no, he was genuinely falling for this woman.  Falling so hard.

She slid her hands from his hips, up his ribs, down his arms, and finally entwined her fingers with his.  Beneath his chest, he felt her heart slow to match his as he ran his thumb over her red stained mouth.

“Your lip bleeds still, Sig.  I’m sorry for biting you.”

She lifted her head to kiss him. “No, you’re not, but it’s fine.  I heal fast.  So strange…I can feel you in me.”

He looked down at their still joined hips and back up to her with a wry smile.

Rolling her eyes, she bumped his nose with hers. “That isn’t what I meant.”

He ran the tip of his finger up her throat and along her jaw. “I know exactly what you meant,” he said with a smile.

“I felt for a moment that I became you,” she mused out loud, furrowing her brow.

He nodded in understanding, and ran his finger along her jaw, tracing the curve of her chin up to her mouth. He held the finger up, now red, and looking at her still, licked it clean.

“It’s called blóð seiðr, darling.”

Her mouth formed an ‘o’ and she gazed at the beautiful lofty ceiling, unseeing.  Blood magic.

Wait…that tiny little bite had been a magic ritual?  A blood…bond?  Well, that explained why, despite it being their first time together, the sex was fantastic— the best of her life.  Normally, it took lots of practice for a man to learn her body well enough to push her over the edge, but with Loki?  Norns, she’d been able to feel his pleasure just as surely as she’d felt her own.

Hold on…did this mean that she would now feel his pain as well?  Had they just woven themselves so tightly together that only death could cut them apart?  Did she even want to be cut from him? Uh…NO.  She most certainly did not want to be cut from him.  He was still seated in her, and she’d never felt so complete and happy in her life.

By Hel, I am so in love with him.

In that instant, he dropped his mouth to hers and murmured her name against her lips, and once again, it was the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard.

---

~The King’s Quarters~

Seated on a plush red and gold sofa in front of the huge fireplace in Odin’s bedchamber, Frigga stared into the flames, feeling more than a little nervous.  Her husband had called for her, and it was odd for him to do so this late in the day.  It was near time for the night meal.  He was going to tell her something she didn’t want to hear.  She could feel it.  He leaned forward on his chair across from her, elbows on his knees.

“I’ve set a date for the coronation,” he said plainly, as though it were a simple matter, with no weight whatsoever.

Her heart dropped into her stomach as surely as her face fell.  It shouldn’t hurt to hear those words.  After all, the coronation would be a joyful occasion.

For Thor.

Covering her mouth with her hand, she blinked back tears and hung her head. “Oh, Loki,” she said under her breath.

Her son would be crushed.  They’d all known the day would come when Thor would be crowned king, but her youngest had longed for the throne, or at least he’d longed for the favor that had been shown to his older brother, since he was a boy.

Shaking his head, Odin rolled his eyes. “You dote on him far too much, Frigga.  You forget that you have two sons.”

Incredulous, she scoffed and pushed up from the sofa, her blue eyes narrowed to slits. “I forget?  How can you say such a thing?  You should look in the mirror!”

“Frigga-”

“I am quite aware how many offspring we have, Odin,” she snapped, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “A mother’s love for her son cannot be outmatched,” she continued. “I assure you, husband, that I love Thor and Loki equally.  I also know that you once told Loki he was born to be a king.  This will break his heart!  Have you no pity at all?”

The memory of the small pink baby with a black tuft of hair and green smiling eyes sliced through her heart.  She’d loved Loki instantly just as surely as he’d loved her, wrapping his tiny hand around her finger.

“You are twisting my words, Frigga, and you know it.  You know as well as I do that that was not a lie,” Odin said, rising to his feet, angry at her clear preference for his youngest, “but Loki cannot sit on the throne of Asgard, and you, of all people, know why.  There is nothing left to discuss other than the arrangements for Thor’s coronation.”

Without uttering a goodbye, she marched straight to the doors, the face of a black haired wide-eyed little boy stealing a bouquet of flowers for her pulling a painful sob from her throat once she was in the hall.

---

~Before Dawn the Next Morning, Loki’s Chambers~

Loki shot upright, drenched in a cold sweat and shaking, pulling his body from Sigyn, who was still asleep next to him.  Fenrir came out from his hiding place beneath the bed, concerned for his master, and Loki flinched, nearly falling off the bed at the sight of the wolf before remembering where he was.

His chest heaved, and bending forward, he put his face in his hands, his body convulsing with quiet sobs as his mind replayed the terrifying images it had concocted and strung together in arguably the worst “fairytale” dream of all time…

The moons of Asgard shone on Loki and Sigyn, their cold skin gleaming blue in the moonlight, as they panted into each other’s mouths. He moved within her, burning her back against the snow-covered stone beneath her. Wincing at the friction, she arched into him, away from the frozen ground. His body offered no sanctuary from the painful cold, and she choked on a cry as his skin darkened to a deep royal blue.

He gently brushed off the tiny frozen tears on her cheek, his teeth chattering against hers as the sharp black icicles that were locks of his raven hair fell in clumps onto her face, shattering on contact. He screamed into her mouth as each of his cold limbs ceased moving, bones becoming ice.

She wanted to rip herself away from him, but his frozen body was a shackle. Pain twisting every nerve ending, she pushed and pulled against his ice encrusted frame. Her pale crystallized skin burned, black smoke swirling beneath its thin surface.

It started as a small opening, a rip in the skin below her belly button, where Loki’s ice had trapped her against him, billows of onyx mist escaping through the wound as she writhed in pain, her body heating beyond a bearable temperature. Her body melted the frozen prince, his ice becoming nothing more than cold water as the dark flames encircled him, burning his cold blue flesh. The whites of his eyes, the green irises, and black pupils, became hot (too hot) and burned red.

Hundreds of ravens suddenly appeared circling and cawing loudly overhead. Pulling her hands from the back of his head, she covered her ears. His eyes, wide with fear, followed the birds as he came to his knees pulling her up with him. Menacing growls then pierced through the birds’ incessant crying.

They stood to their feet, his magic enveloping and protecting them from not only the cold, but from the dark creatures peering through the trees. Wolves, salivating with hunger, stalked them on all sides. Without warning, the ravens dove for her, swirling around her, and she screamed, their beaks clamping onto her, their sharp talons piercing her skin. He tried to yell for her, but no sound escaped his mouth as the ravens took her into the snow filled clouds, his silent cry cut off by powerful jaws chomping into his leg.

He kicked the black canine and reached for the dagger that should have been, but was not, in his boot. Looking up, he saw bared fangs. Twenty of them, at least, snarled and snapped at his ankles, and as they launched themselves at him, he found his voice, his torturous cries ringing in his ears.

The nightmare had been too real.  Fenrir pushed his muzzle into Loki’s hair, earning a weak pat on his furry head, and convinced that Loki was fine, he ran to the balcony, jumped over, landing solidly in the garden below, and ran off in the direction of the forest, presumably, to find a small animal to eat.

Sigyn shifted, opening her eyes slowly and ran a hand through her hair and over her face.  Breathing a heavy sigh of relief that she was awake, she sighed.  Loki had been in her dream, and he had changed.  He’d become ice.  His eyes had turned red and his skin, blue.  He’d looked Jotun, of all things.

Ravens had then wrenched her from his arms, and she’d watched wolves kill him.  She didn’t want to know why she would dream such a thing and thanked the Norns silently that she didn’t have the gift of foresight.  At least, she didn’t think she had that gift.  Well, after that dream, she certainly hoped not.  It was probably just a healthy fear of losing a loved one that had caused the nightmare.  Or maybe she’d eaten something rotten.

Wrinkling her nose, she shrugged it off.  She wasn’t about to let the hair-raising dream pull her down from the high he had given her.  Wanting to hold him, she started to reach across the sheets.  She’d barely moved an inch when he was suddenly on top of her, his large, cold hands grabbing her face.  His warm mouth covered hers, kissing her desperately, like she’d just come back from the dead.

“You’re here,” he whispered against her mouth, his voice hoarse.

Kissing her mouth, her chin, her jaw, her neck, he wrapped his arms around her ribs, crushing the air out of her lungs.  She kissed him back with equal need, bringing her thighs up to cradle his hips. This was the way to wake up.  But…why did his kisses seem different?  She felt more fear from him than passion.  And what was wrong with his voice?  As he came back up from her neck to kiss her mouth, she could feel his wet cheeks.  Had he been crying?  She brought her hands to his face, running her thumbs along his cheekbones.  Yes, he’d been crying.

It took her a moment to realize he’d had the same dream thanks to their new blood bond, and clearly it had rattled him more than her.  His reaction was alarming, and she could hardly just shrug off the dream now.  As he continued kissing her, she deconstructed the dream as best she could. 

She’d seen Huginn and Muninn flying around earlier.  That explained the ravens.  The wolves had shown up, without a doubt, because Fenrir had crawled under the bed.  Why the Hel had her stomach been ripped open, though?  And why would Loki have injured her?  Then she’d been pulled from him?  She was in control of her own actions, and no one could pull her away from him.  She would never leave him.  But what if…

Someone takes him from me…?

Eyes blowing wide, fear reared its ugly head at the thought.  No.  It was just a stupid dream.  It meant nothing.  He was just overreacting.

“I can’t bear the thought of losing you, Sig,” he muttered into her hair, his hands moving from her waist to her hips, down her thighs and back up.

She wasn’t just his bedmate.  She was his soulmate (if there was such a thing).  She meant more to him than anything in the nine, and she could be gone in an instant, leaving him broken and hollow. Seeing her picked up by those ravens, it had felt as though he was falling from her, more than her being taken from him.

It felt so real, and it had shaken him to his core.  He was behaving as though he was in love with her, and that was more terrifying than the nightmare.  As he pushed into her again, he clamped his eyes shut at the incredible sensation in both his body and his heart.