"What did he want you to do?" Kris asked softly. There was more concern for Loki than curiosity about Gabriel in her eyes; she really was easy to read. "Was it just for you to disappear?"

"It was more about him disappearing than me," Loki told her. "He has the ability to shape change, as well as other abilities. He hardly needed my help there, but he wanted to make sure I wouldn't come forward to claim the face he was wearing. This is my real face. It is not the one Gabriel has been wearing."

A slow smile touched Kris' face as she considered this. "You tricked him," she murmured, admiration flickering in her eyes. "He believes he looks like you, doesn't he?"

"Yes," Loki replied with a mischievous grin that lit up his whole face. "Perhaps not so much now, but he did then. Do you really think I'd let him wear my face?" he added with a touch of pride and just a little ego.

She laughed a little, charmed by the brightness of the mischief on his face. "I'm glad you didn't," she giggled. "I much prefer your face."

"The truth is he's wearing the face of a swineherd who once lived in Denmark," Loki added with a further grin, laying a finger against his lips as if to ask she keep that secret, especially from the angel in question.

This time, Kristen's laugh was loud and unabashed, her head thrown back as she cackled at this new information about the face Gabriel was so proud of wearing. "Oh, I like that," she laughed, wiping her eyes.

Loki shrugged, as if it was nothing, that smirk still apparent on his face. It took her remark as a compliment - a rarity in his experience. "I know it was evil, but I couldn't resist."

Still smiling, she shook her head. "That is not evil," she insisted. "It is rather glorious in its way. He is far from your equal." With a last laugh, she rose to her feet, moving to drop the empty cup and bag into the trash.

"I cannot argue with that," he said, in agreement. "It is Gabriel and his brothers who are in good part to blame for the war." That could be argued, depending on one's point of view, but Lucifer had been an archangel - God's favorite in fact - before he had rebelled.

"Wanting to destroy the world rather than hand it back to the gods at the end of their cycle was more than naive," Kris commented, straightening up. She turned to face Loki, her expression easier than it had been before now. "What happens when you touch me" Does it ....does it hurt?"

"I do not know," he admitted with a frown. After all, he'd never been on the receiving end of the connection. "I do not think so, but it may come of something of a shock to feel my presence inside your mind."

She nodded thoughtfully, absorbing this information as she drew in a slow breath. Her hands slid into the back pockets of her jeans, bare toes curling against the rasping carpet. "What do you need me to do?"

"Nothing really. Just relax and give me your hand," he said, as he leaned toward her and offered her his own hand in return for hers. Ice blue eyes met her gaze as if he was searching the depths of her eyes.

She held his gaze for a long moment, studying ice blue eyes that seemed kinder now than she had thought they could. She recalled the way Artemis had presented her own hand to him, taking a deep breath, and lowered herself onto one knee before Loki Laufeyson, raising her hand to his.

As far as he was concerned, it wasn't really necessary for her to go down on one knee. In fact, he would have preferred she hadn't, but he didn't want to disrupt the process now that they had both decided and were prepared for it. He held her gaze, almost as if he was hypnotizing her, looking deep into her eyes as he reached for her hand.

Palm to palm, there was nothing for a moment but silence as he stared into her eyes. Kris was caught, mesmerized, unable to close her eyes ....and then a searing white flame seemed to envelope her mind and heart. Her breath caught in her throat, her fingers flexed to twine with his and hold on tight. And her mind, her soul, her past, opened to him without a moment's hesitation.

In an instant, he saw the ritual at her birth, the runes that spelled his name gifted to her as a newborn infant; the toddler she had been, showing a natural gift for magic because of that dedication, along with an easiness with natural predators that lived near her family home. He saw the deaths of her family - her parents cut down by angels, her siblings killed in the fire set in their house; the child she had been saved by the intervention of Frigga and given to Artemis to raise. He saw her education as a hunter, the lack she had always known because of her raising at the feet of Greek gods; the reputation she had earned as the best tracker in the hunting community, the risks she had taken to defend humanity during the angels' apocalypse and the war that had followed a few years later. He saw it all, and there, throughout those memories, that honesty that flickered in her soul, was the thread of silver that bound that soul to him.

He not only watched Kristen's past unfold before him, but he felt it - every moment of joy and hope and tragedy and grief. Every moment she had ever lived, every joy and every pain. And suddenly, everything made sense. All the pieces of the puzzle fell into place, at least where she was concerned. Her memories did not, could not, lie. So, it had been angels who had killed her family. One more reason to hate them - or at least, those who'd been responsible. It was true, then. She was bound to him in ways that could not be undone, unless he was the one to release her. He still didn't quite understand why she had been dedicated to him, but who was he to question it' She was a gift, a ray of sunshine in an otherwise murky world, and he would not take this gift for granted ever again. He lifted her hand to his face and pressed it against his cheek, before turning her hand and touching a kiss to her palm, releasing her from the vision that played across her mind's eyes.

As his lips touched her palm, her breath began again, a harsh intake that filled her lungs while she swayed on her knees, unconsciously leaning toward him. Her free hand braced herself against his knee as she blinked furiously, trying to clear the tears from her eyes. "I-I ....I didn't ..."

He reached for her, to catch her before she swayed and fell, finding himself face to face with her, ice blue eyes gazing once again into hers. "I'm sorry," he told her quietly, in a voice that sounded surprisingly sincere and remorseful, though what had happened to her family hadn't been his fault. "I'm sorry about your family, about everything."

She leaned into him, grateful to be caught, letting herself trust him the way her instinct demanded now that she knew the truth. "It is not your fault," she whispered, shaking her head just a little. "How could you have known" You kept your bargain. He should have told you about the dedication."

"He knew, then?" Loki asked, referring to Gabriel's knowledge of the dedication, which had happened many years after the two of them had made their bargain. "He would have been pretending to be me. Perhaps he was hoping you'd follow him," he suggested.

"If he had wanted my devotion, why did he abandon me?" she asked softly. "Why did he let my family die?" She frowned, shaking her head, only then realizing that she was in his arms. "Oh ....I'm sorry, I did not realize ..."

He smiled gently at her apology, only just realizing it himself and drawing slowly away. "My fault. I was afraid you were going to fall. Perhaps you should sit," he said, moving aside so that she could claim his chair, which left only the bed to sit on.

"Thank you." Though the words were, perhaps, a little hesitant, she was grateful, easing down into the chair with a soft sigh. "Is it always like that?" she asked curiously. "I mean, if you were to go into my mind again, would it be like that every time?"

"Yes, but ..." He trailed off, unsure just how to answer. "It's been a very long time since anyone has been dedicated to me." It wasn't that he didn't remember so much as that he had never really gone into anyone's mind in such a way very often.

She waited, but nothing more seemed to be forthcoming. "What, then?" she asked, shifting to walk backwards while holding his gaze. There was a smile on her lips, enjoying the conversation more than perhaps she should, but unable to pretend otherwise. "What did happen?"

"Are you certain you want to know?" he asked, stepping forward suddenly to take her by the shoulders and pull her out of the way of an oncoming pedestrian. He pulled her to a stop there on the sidewalk, his hands still clutching her shoulders, his gaze studying hers.

Pulled to a halt, Kris' smile faded abruptly, her hands automatically leaving her pockets to press against his chest. Just in case. But some part of her knew he wouldn't hurt her. "No, I am not certain that I want to know," she told him honestly. "I think I need to know. To have your own history kept a secret from you ....it is a terrible thing, Loki."

His lips twitched, but not into a smirk so much as a frown. "It is not of my doing, Kristanna. If I had known ..." He trailed off, that frown deepening. What would he have done, if he'd known" Would he have come for her" Even if he had, what would he have done for her" He sighed, letting go of her shoulders and turning his gaze away, as if he didn't want her to see the pain in his eyes. "I had a daughter once. You may have heard of her. Her name was Helge. Or at least, that is the common pronunciation of her name. But they changed it to Hel and cast her out of Asgard to rule the Underworld. She was much like you, my Helge. But the Asgardians scorned her because she was not like them."

"Hel?" Kris frowned, a sudden concern rising in her eyes. "She was not also known as Persephone, was she?" she asked, worried now that someone she knew had been responsible for the death of her god's daughter. That would certainly put her in a terrible position.

"No, they are not the same," he replied, easing her worries without really knowing what those worries were. He matched her frown, his heart still grieving the loss of his only daughter. "I am not sure why I mentioned her, except that you remind me of her a little."

Without quite understanding why, the sight of his grief tugged at her heart. Kris softened the touch of her hands against his chest, her palm shifting to lie over his heart. "Is there no way you can see her again?"

"No, she's ..." He swallowed, as if he could not bear to say the word. "She's gone, like so many others," he said, not bothering to explain what he meant by that, as if she should know that already. He drew a deep breath in an attempt to push the grief aside, and took her hands between his, a strained smile on his face. "I'm sorry. I did not mean to upset you."

"You did not upset me." She shook her head, letting him take her hands even as she closed the small distance between them, nose to nose, eye to eye. "I do not like to see you in pain. But you are not alone, Loki. I know I am only mortal, but I am yours."

"I am not sure what that means," he confessed quietly. It had been a long time since he'd had any devotees and even longer since anyone had claimed to care for him.

"I was given to you before I was a day old," she reminded him softly. "Though I did not know it, everything I have done was done for you. Everything I will do, will be done for you. You are my home. Even if you should reject me, I will still be yours."

"I will not reject you," he assured her. "But I need some time to-to sort things out." And to figure out what he was supposed to do with her. He studied her quietly a moment, as if debating what more he should tell her. "You have a right to know the truth about your past, but ..." He frowned again, as he took a quick look around. "I do not wish to tell you here."

"Oh!" Guilt colored her expression again as she shook her head. "I did not mean to pressure you in any way!" she insisted, squeezing his hands for a brief moment. "Everything should happen in its own time, certainly." She nodded, dredging a smile from somewhere. "I promised you lunch, that is what I intend to give you."

The strained expression on his face eased into an almost relieved smile. "Yes, a hot dog," he reminded her, that sparkle of amusement returning to his eyes. "Shall we?" he asked, letting go of her hands, but instead, offering her his arm.

Pleased to see him smile, Kris let her tension fade as her own smile relaxed, curling her arm through his. "A god and a gentleman," she teased him. "I wonder what else you are?"

"I think you know well enough," he replied, assuming his reputation spoke for him. Though many of the stories told about him were nothing but lies, some of them were based on truth.

"I could make some guesses," she conceded in quiet amusement, leading him into a park. "But I think it would be more fun to discover it for myself. Unless, of course, you forbid fun." She gave him some rather impish side-eye, daring him to tell her she could never have fun again.

"No, of course not!" he was quick to reply. "I am the God of Fun," he added with a sly wink. Wasn't mischief equated with fun, after all, so long as it didn't bring any harm to anyone"

"Ah, but not all fun is mischief," she countered cheerfully, steering him along the slightly icy path toward the hot dog vendor's steaming cart. "You might have views on fun that is not mischievous."

"And what views might those be?" he asked curiously. He could probably guess where her mind was headed, but he didn't want to assume.

"Oh, you may forbid it entirely unless it takes place in your company." She flashed him a grin, slipping her hand from his arm to pull her wallet from her pocket as they reached the vendor. "Hi! Two hot dogs, mustard and onions, please."

He arched a dark brow at both her reply and her hot dog order. "Is that how a hot dog is traditionally served?" he asked of the mustard and onions. He'd never had a hot dog, after all, and had no idea of all the various toppings and versions they could be found in.

"I believe so," she mused. "It is the way I like them, anyway. You could also have tomato sauce, I understand. Or without sauce or topping." She handed him his hot dog wrapped in a napkin, taking her own and handing over payment to the vendor. "Thank you very much."

"This is a hot dog?" he asked, as she handed him the sausage-like piece of meat, smothered in mustard and onions and resting inside some sort of soft roll. There was only one way to find out if he'd like it or not, and so, he took a bite, quietly contemplating the taste before nodding his head in approval.

"It is." Kris watched him take his first bite, smiling at the look on his face as she took her own. "I am a little addicted to hot dogs, I must confess. If it was not ludicrously bad for me, I would have them for every meal."

"That is a bit much," he said, with a smirk of his own before taking another bite. "They are rather like sausages, aren't they?" he asked, though it was a rhetorical question.

"They are a form of sausage, but the meat is usually chicken flavored with pork," she told him with a grin. "Not a proper sausage, of course. But the salty taste makes them very more-ish."

"More-ish?" he echoed, brows arching upwards, unsure what she meant by that. "More-ish like a sausage?" he asked, uncertainly. Wherever he'd been hiding for the last few centuries, or perhaps even millennium, it certainly hadn't been any place where hot dogs were commonly found.

"More-ish, as in ....you want more than is good for you," she explained, surprised that it was a concept unusual for him. Or perhaps it was the word itself.

"Oh, I see," he replied, gobbling up the last of the hot dog. "May I have more-ish then?" he asked, smirking again. The way she'd used the word was clearly unfamiliar to him, but then English wasn't his first language, as evidenced by the merest hint of an undefinable accent in the way he spoke.

She laughed, offering him the last bite of her own hot dog, despite her already stated love of the snack. "You are surprisingly adorable at times, you know?"

He grinned as he leaned in to take the last bite of her hot dog. "I assume that is a good thing," he said, once he was finished chewing and swallowing. "I see what you mean. They are rather addictive, aren't they?" he asked. Just like she was.

That pleased smile of his was difficult to resist, drawing a soft smile of her own to her face. "You really are very handsome," she heard herself say, her cheeks suddenly very warm and very red as she spun about to look at what had caught his attention. "Oh ....they are making snow angels."

He had not asked if he could put his mark upon her, but in doing so, it seemed he had accepted her as belonging to him, which was what it seemed she wanted, after all. His smile widened at her compliment, but before he was able to return it with a compliment of his own, she had turned away to see what else had drawn his attention. His arms went around her from behind, just as any lover's might, smiling in amusement at the blush he'd induced in her.

"Snow angels?" he asked, half-interested.

Feeling his arms wrap about her, Kris' breath caught in her throat, unaccountably shy and quietly delighted with the unstudied affection of her god.

"Yes, they ....you lie on your back in the snow, and sweep your arms and legs that way," she explained, unconsciously laying her hands over his arms at her waist. "When you stand up, the impression left looks a little like the angels people put on their Christmas trees."

"But they are not real angels," he pointed out, nor did they really look like angels. What was the point of making impressions of angels in the snow if they weren't even accurate"

"No, they are not," she agreed. "But that shape has become synonymous with the light in the darkness of winter, especially the Christian festival. The angels that people believe it are rarely anything like the real thing."

"I wonder why that is," he said, content to watch for now, his chin coming to rest against her shoulder. "Do you think it is the fault of the muses?" he asked, well aware of the Greek pantheon and even personally acquainted with some of them.

"Ah, I-I could not say," she managed, achingly aware of his cheek beside her own, fighting the urge to turn her head and risk catching his eyes. "Perhaps it is. I believe the Christmas angel originated in the Victorian era."

"No matter," he said, releasing her suddenly from his embrace and reaching for her hand with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "Shall we join them?" he asked, though the look on his face hinted that he might be considering some mischief.

Despite the flare of shyness in her belly, Kris laughed at his suggestion. "Do you intend to throw me down into the snow?" she asked teasingly. "You beast."

"No, of course not!" he said, looking affronted by her question. "I would never do such a thing," he added, one hand going to the middle of his chest, as if he were making a vow. Not to her anyway, though he wouldn't have minded throwing her down against a bed.

"Hmm." She tilted her head, a decidedly mischievous look sparkling to life in her eyes. "What a shame. I suppose I shall just have to take the initiative." She reached out, aiming to grip his elbows and pull him off-balance with one leg behind his own.

But if she thought he was going down alone, she was sadly mistaken, as he reached out to grab hold of her in return and take her down into the snow with him, laughing.

Her yell as she went down was cut off by her landing on top of him, her breath lost in a low grunt and smothered by his laughter. She wriggled, giggling herself as she poked at his shoulder. "You are certainly not a gentleman!"

He laughed even louder at her protest, seeing as she had no one to blame but herself. "It is your own fault!" he accused in turn, though from the grin on his face, he looked hardly upset. In fact, if anything, he looked even more amused than before. "Is this how it is done then?" he asked, spreading his arms and legs outward, even with her sprawled on top of him and moving his limbs back and forth through the snow.

Kris snorted with laughter, unable to keep herself from giggling still at the sight and sensation of Loki, Norse God, making a snow angel enthusiastically with her perched on top of him. "Something like that," she nodded. "But usually not with a woman on top of you."

"Well, that was your doing, woman," he reminded her, flipping her over onto her back, so that he was now straddling her, his eyes bright with mischief and perhaps something else. "I should punish you for that," he warned.

"Oh!" Flat on her back in the snow, Kris' giggles trailed off as he loomed over her, though her smile remained. She was enjoying this playful side of him - and if she was honest, the strange sense of intimacy involved in it, too. "And what form would this punishment take?"

"Hmm, that is a good question. Perhaps I should demand a kiss," he told her. It seemed hardly inappropriate seeing as how she had already offered herself to him, and he had accepted.

Her cheeks, already ruddy with cold, darkened further in a rosy blush as she smiled up at him. "And where would you demand this kiss?" she asked, her hands coming to rest on his arms.

"Where do most kisses belong?" he countered, letting her think about that and choose where she might kiss him, though he could have made demands, rather than given her a choice. Though he was playing with her a little, he did not mean any cruelty by it.

Ignoring the cold wetness at her back, her smile only grew, enjoying teasing him as he teased her. "Ah, but for the kiss to be appropriate, the nature of the relationship should be clarified," she pointed out impishly. "A kiss for a lover is very different to a kiss for a child."

"As is the kiss for a sister or daughter," he added, hinting that he did not wish to consider her either, though he had said she reminded him of his daughter in some ways. "How do you wish to kiss me?" he asked, once again insisting she determine that for herself.

She raised one brow, studying him for a long moment. "Will you promise not to laugh at me?" she asked softly.

"Why would I laugh at you?" he asked, furrowing his own brows in confusion. Unless she asked to kiss him in a place that might make them both blush.

"Because others have," she admitted. "I do not have the best run of luck when it comes to honesty in such matters, but ....I trust you." Her fingers gripped his sleeves for a moment, one hand sliding up to trace her fingers against his jaw as she arched her neck, and very softly brushed her lips to his.

That was clearly not what he was expecting, as evidenced by the expression on his face and his intake of breath, but he was not disappointed. Instead, he returned her kiss with surprising tenderness, gently tracing his fingers against the curve of her cheek. He could not remember when it was that anyone had showed him such tender affection and promise of devotion. He had clearly not laughed.

No, he had not. Nor had he rejected the soft kiss she offered. No doubt he could feel her relax as he answered her affection with his own, the warmth of her breath brushing his skin as she drew back to look up at him with shining eyes. "I do not feel very punished," she admitted impishly.

"Perhaps I should try harder then," he said, kissing her again, this time with more passion, eons of loneliness going into that kiss. Warmth emanated from him into her at that kiss, almost like it had when he'd put his mark on her. He was a demi-god, after all, and not at all human.

He swallowed the beginning of his own name on her lips with that kiss, sweeping away for just a few moments the discomfort of lying in the snow, the knowledge that they were far from alone, everything but the kiss he bestowed on her and the longing that came with it, ignited by the warmth that flooded her being. But care comes in many forms, and one of those forms is in denial for the sake of dignity.

"It is your name. Your true name," he told her. Like her, he could not imagine calling her anything else. He frowned a moment, as he considered what he'd seen of her past, once again. "There is much about your past that you do not yet know."

"But I will learn it, in time," she answered with soft confidence, reaching into her pocket for her key as she came to a halt by the motel room door. She offered him a gentle smile. "I trust you to tell me when you think it is the right time." With a rattle, the door opened under her touch, her smile inviting him inside once again.

But just when was the right time to tell someone much of her life had been a lie" Certainly not before she was about to seduce him. He wanted no lies between them, and yet, it was Artemis who was to blame for those lies, not him.

"I am not sure when that time will be. Perhaps I should tell you when you are sure you are ready to know," he suggested, accepting her invitation by stepping through the door, unsure just what awaited him, but anxious to find out.

"I think that is reasonable." The door closed and locked with a staccato pair of clicks, shutting them into a bland motel room that only really had the fact that it had a bed to offer in its own favor. Kris turned to Loki, tucking her fingers into his jacket to pull him close. "Are you ready to be ravished, my god?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that question, my ardent devotee?" he asked, unable to hide the smirk from his face as she pulled him closer. His hands found their way to her waist, fingers curling into the belt loops of her jeans.

"I do believe I am the one having my wicked way with you first," she teased him in answer, one hand pulling her scarf from her neck to toss it aside before her lips caught his in a kiss that was a long way from the hesitant touch she had given him in the park. This kiss was gentle and confident, and definitely taking its time.

It had been a long time since he'd been with a woman, eons in fact, but not so long that he'd forgotten what to do. He returned that kiss with one of his own, more passionate now that they were alone than it had been before. He was happy to help with her clothes, starting with her jacket, easing it back over her shoulders and down her arms to toss it carelessly aside while his mouth explored hers.

And she was no less eager than him, dragging the zip of his own jacket down to push the leather from his shoulders, her fingers moving in separate directions; one hand into the loose dark of his hair, the other to trace down his side and up beneath his shirt. And all the while, pressing close, allowing him that exploration only if he allowed her the same.

He not only allowed her touch, but was clearly enjoying it, though he wasn't sure how long he was going to be able to restrain himself. His kisses were growing more impassioned, more needful, more demanding, while warm, sure hands found their way beneath her shirt to explore, just as she was exploring him.

His kisses swallowed her low groan as his hands found her skin, the flash of heated desire flaring, urging her on to take charge just a little while she still could. Her own hands found their way to the hem of his shirt, pulling it upward, coaxing his arms up to drag the cloth from his body. To let her smother his skin with touches, caresses, kisses that wanted more.

He returned each touch, each caress, each kiss with equal fervor, equal desire. He eased her shirt up and over her head, loosening the ponytail that held her hair up and sliding his fingers through her hair to smooth it out over her shoulders even as his lips left hers to leave a trail of kisses down her neck and further.

She shivered at the sensation of his hands in her hair, his name ghosting against his skin in answer to that intimacy, proving it a weak point for her to have her hair played with at all.

"You're trying to distract me," she murmured against his skin, her lips curved in a smile as she lifted her head, peppering his lips with softer, teasing kisses. As her fingers found the waist of his pants, and flicked open button and fly to wriggle inside.

He audibly groaned, partly in anticipation of what was to come, but he caught her hand before she could go much farther. That grin was on his face again as he went down on a knee, as if to worship her like a goddess, only to unzip her jeans and peel them from her legs so that he could explore every curve of her body with hands and lips and mouth.

She protested wordlessly, biting her lip as he stopped her from exploring as she wished to. A low laugh erupted from her lips at the sight of him on his knees in front of her.

"This was not the plan, Loki," she pointed out, drawing her fingers through his hair even as she swayed under his affections.

"Shhh," he murmured, pausing a moment in his ministrations to effectively shush her before he returned to what he was doing, thoroughly enjoying his exploration. He slowly moved back to his full height, guiding her back toward the bed so that he could lay her back and finish what he had started, with the intention of not stopping until she, too, was groaning with pleasure.

"This was supposed to be about y-"

Her complaint, however mild, was cut off in a rush of breath as she dropped onto the bed, smothering her own laugh behind her hand as she succumbed to a man - a god - who certainly didn't need any help finding his way around a woman's body. There weren't just groans that fell on his ears - his name, quiet pleas for release, the shuddering gasps of breath each time she writhed in his grasp - he more than earned them all in his relentless coaxing of her to crest that elusive peak.

It was good for his ego to know that he hadn't lost his touch, that he hadn't forgotten how to give a woman pleasure. Each groan and gasp and sigh only made him want her all the more, eager to end the long years of being alone, the long years of not knowing a woman's touch. He removed the last vestiges of her clothing, fingers teasing her flesh, while his lips did the rest.

There was no sense of embarrassment or shame at being bare in his arms, that modern boldness enough to give her confidence in her own form even as she came apart under his ministrations, forgetting to even try to muffle her pleasure in that glorious eruption of ecstasy.

He gloried in her ecstasy, proud he still knew how to master a woman and how to love her. But this was only the beginning, only the appetizer, so to speak, before the main course. He didn't withdraw his ministrations until he was sure she was finished, until her groans of pleasure faded into sighs, until she was completely and utterly relaxed, and then he started all over again to ready her for the next step.

"L-loki ..." She actually whined when he began once more, laughing breathlessly through the throbbing rise of her pleasure all over again. Her fingers clenched in his hair as she arched against the bed. "What about ....you?"

"Oh, I will have my pleasure. Don't you worry about me," he assured her with a grin. Sensing he had stoked her desire once again, he pushed away from her so that he could get rid of the last of his own clothes and stand before her in all his godly glory.

She pushed herself to sit up, watching him remove the last barriers between them with hungry eyes. One hand reached out, trailing fingertips down his chest and stomach, and further still, her smile more than a little wicked as she looked up at him. "I will get my chance to play, won't I?"

He drew a deep breath as his body reacted to her touch, and he reached for her hand to bring it to his lips. "Kristanna, you should know that if we make love, there is a good chance you will become pregnant," he warned her as gently as he could, hoping that would not scare her away.

With anyone else, that would be enough to scare her off ....but the closer she was to him, the more Kris was aware of the strange affinity that bound her to her god. She trusted him; even if this never happened again between them, she knew he would not abandon her or any child that came from their union.

"There is always a chance," she murmured softly. "I am not afraid to bear your child, Loki."

"You are human. Any child of ours will not be a monster. I promise you that," he assured her further, whether she was aware of the mythology surrounding his offspring or not. "I will not abandon you or our child. I promise you that, too," he told her, touching a kiss to the palm of her hand before easing down beside her at last.

She blinked in surprise, lowering herself down to lie beside him once again. "So it is possible for anyone to dispel an illusion?" she asked, genuinely fascinated. His comment on not having a home was gently pushed aside, for now.

"Technically, yes, but it's rare that anyone doesn't truly believe in one of my illusions. In order to disbelieve, you'd have to know it is an illusion," he explained.

"I suppose so," she mused, tracing half-finished runes on his chest with her fingertip. "And you must truly believe that it is an illusion, I suppose."

He shrugged against the pillows, all too aware of her touch and her closeness, which filled his senses with her presence. "Most people believe what their eyes are telling them, especially when the illusion extends to all their senses."

"Hmm ....and do you believe in your illusions?" she asked softly. "Can you lose yourself in them, even though you are their creator?" There was a point to her questioning, but it all depended on his reply.

"No, I always know what is real and what is not," he replied. At least, as far as his own illusions were concerned. He had never met anyone who could fool him either, including Gabriel.

"Then you deserve a home," she murmured, nestling her cheek against his shoulder. "Somewhere real to be your safe place, your haven from the world. An illusion will never be able to give you what a true home can."

"I'm not sure I will ever truly be safe," he told her, though he had not yet explained why. He had his fair share of enemies, of course, Gabriel notwithstanding. "And you are not safe so long as you are with me."

"So you keep saying." Kris raised her head to look down at him once again. "But you will not tell me what these dangers are, or who the danger originates with."

He met her gaze silently a moment, as if he was considering whether or not to answer the question she wasn't quite asking. "Heimdall," he replied after a long moment. "It has been prophesied that he and I will eventually kill each other," he explained.

Kris held his gaze for a long moment, raising her brow slowly. "Yes," she said carefully. "It was also prophesied that Fenrir would kill Odin by swallowing him whole. That is not how Odin died."

"Perhaps Fenrir never had the chance," Loki countered. After all, it was Lucifer who'd killed Odin, not Fenrir. "Heimdall will be looking for me, and now that I am no longer hiding, he is bound to find me eventually."

"Why does he want to kill you?" she asked in a quiet voice, her palm flat over his heart. Perhaps this was what made her a good tracker - the need to understand why, as well as who and what.

Loki shrugged again. "He has always hated me. He does not trust me, and he has always been jealous of my place among the Asgardians. He thinks I am not worthy, and he did not approve of the freedoms Odin afforded me. He was chief among those who arranged my imprisonment," he explained, his voice dripping with loathing.

She frowned, chewing at her lip. "I know very little about Heimdall," she admitted. "I know very little about the Norse that did not come from the sagas you have already told me are inaccurate. But I would not wish to lose you."

"I would not wish to lose you either," he told her, lifting a hand to touch her cheek. Though they had only just met a few days earlier, she had been dedicated to him at birth. Was it so hard to believe that they had bonded so quickly and could already not imagine life without the other"

A gentle smile lit up her face, her head tilting until she could kiss his lips tenderly for just a moment. "I am yours," she whispered. "And I will protect you, just as you protect me."

He was grateful for her kiss, even as he returned it, but once their lips parted, he frowned, a troubled expression on his face. "I do not want you to get hurt because of me, Kristanna," he told her, wondering if she was better off without him - safer - but it might be too late for that now.

"I do not have to fight in order to protect you," she countered. "Nor can you make that decision for me. Yes, you could abandon me, but I don't think you will. I want to be yours, to be with you. And I think you want me to stay, too."

"I will not lie to you, Kristi," Loki said, fingers caressing her cheek, ice blue eyes meeting hers. "I do not want to lose you," he said, repeating what he'd told her a short while before. He sighed. "There must be a way to resolve this." He just needed to figure out what it was.

"What he hopes to gain from your death is what will give the answer to resolving it without losing you," she suggested softly, rising up to lean over him, kissing the tip of his nose. "But for the moment, I need to shower."

"Scrub Loki from your skin?" he teased, that hint of mischief curling his lips once again. He hoped that wasn't what she intended, but he couldn't help teasing her about it anyway.

She laughed, sitting up with languid grace. "I was rather hoping Loki was going to come with me, but I can hardly force him." Rising to her feet, she threw him a teasing glance over her shoulder as she padded toward the bathroom.

"Is that an invitation, huntress?" he asked, tossing the sheets and blankets aside in readiness to follow her, his eyes following the enticing view.

"Does a god need an invitation to accept the worship of his high priestess?" she asked innocently, her hand trailing over the doorframe as she stepped out of sight.

"When you put it that way, no," he replied, though he was already on his way, following on her heels to the bathroom, like a moth to the flame. If she was to be his undoing, if she was to be the end of him, then at least, he'd die happy.

But, of course, if she had her way ....he would live happy. And that might be even better.