Chapter 2

Day peeled back to expose a night sky teeming with galaxies and nearby star systems. Jane stared at them, causing her to stumble and trip over every rock, fallen branch, and thick root. Her wide-eyed wonder both frustrated and captivated Loki, though he did his best to smother the latter emotion.

He tugged her along with a steady grumble—she'd already tried to escape two times and he wasn't about to let her get away from him a third. The golden spires of the palace extended far above the tree line, but even if he had no visual aide, he would know exactly where he was going. He'd played and hunted far too often in these woods to not know.

"Is it like this every night?" she asked. Her voice had become less tremulous over the hours they'd spent walking together. His had hardened. He hated this slow progress. If he had his magic, they would already be inside, clean and comfortable.

If he had his magic, he wouldn't be bound to a mortal. He wouldn't be a mortal.

Jane struggled to free her arm from his grip. "You're hurting me."

Not realizing he'd clenched his hand, Loki loosened his hold on her and covered the reason with a lie. "Then focus and try to keep up."

She gave him a sidelong look. "I can't believe, of all the billions of people on Earth, you are my soulmate."

"I assure you, Jane Foster, the feeling is mutual."

He didn't know why the Midgardian soulmate magic had worked on him. Sure, he had been made mortal when Odin had stripped him of his powers and cast him out, but he was from Asgard, not Midgard.

Anger roared in him, and he had to be careful not to hurt her again. She wasn't the cause of the bond, just a reminder of how far he'd fallen.

Insects and animals croaked and chattered in the distance. Those nearby silenced at their approach, but the gentle breeze rustling the trees never wavered. The chill sliced through the flimsy prison guard uniform and cut right to the bone. He hadn't dared to don the previous owner's sweaty undershirt.

They needed to change clothes. Not just for warmth, but because Midgardian attire was not conducive to keeping a low profile in Asgard. He glanced at Jane's jeans and flannel shirt with distaste. Besides, they were ugly scraps of material pretending to be cloth.

"What?" she asked with considerable heat.

Loki gave her a thin smile, which seemed to irritate her more. She glowered in response, but it only served to make her look like a furious kitten.

His lips stretched into something more genuine.

Lifting her chin with an indignant sniff, she turned her attention back to the sky. Moonlight bathed her in a soft glow that made her already-creamy skin turn to lustrous silk. Wisps of her dark hair brushed across her face to obscure the soft curving line of her profile from his view. His fingers itched to brush them back and tuck them behind her ear to see if her cheeks were as smooth as they appeared.

The toe of his boot caught on a tree root, jerking his attention off her and making him adjust his footing before he actually stumbled. He hadn't jostled her—she still stared upward without a clue as to what had just happened—but he berated himself for acting like a fool.

No matter her incarnation, he'd always found her attractive and was naturally drawn to her, as if she were a soothing light at the end of a suffocatingly dark tunnel, but this was absurd. The soulmate bond was messing with his mind. The need to be rid of it before he found himself officially attached to her clawed at his insides.

They couldn't be together—she was Midgardian, unwelcome in Asgard—and he had every intention of reclaiming his position as a prince here. She did not fit in his future.

A glance at Jane had admiration for her bubbling up within him, and he hated it. Granted, she seemed to despise the bond as much as he. A corner of his mouth lifted as he realized her contempt for him would be his saving grace. All he had to do was continue to make her think she repulsed him. Cutting the bond would be effortless then.

He lengthened his stride, willing to drag her along if she could not keep up, and disregarded the little yelp of surprise she gave at their sudden change of pace. For every one of his steps, she took two, sometimes three. Her breaths came and went quicker and quicker, until she planted her feet, chest heaving, and forced him to stop.

"Enough," she said. "Unless you're going to carry me, I need a break."

With a swipe of his arm, he scooped her up, hoisted her over his shoulder, and began walking again. He snickered as she pushed against his back to lift herself up from hanging like a wet noodle.

"Put me down," she demanded. "Put me down right now."

He slid her off his shoulder and dropped her. It wasn't a big enough fall to cause harm—that would slow him down even more—but she landed hard enough to knock her on her rear.

The impact forced the air from her lungs in a heavy exhalation. She glared up at him. "I didn't ask to be here, you know. I didn't ask for a murdering soulmate. I didn't ask for any of this." She got to her feet and stepped to him. "You clearly don't want me here. So why are you dragging me along with you?"

He basked in her ire, reveling in a job well done.

She turned and marched away, and he easily caught up to her.

"To destroy the bond, both soulmates must be present," he explained as if she were slow, all the while lying. He had no clue if the bond could even be broken. It was why he took her, just in case it couldn't. He wasn't going to risk his plans and end up dying because they weren't together.

Her brown eyes flashed at the condescension lacing his tone.

"Unless," Loki added, "you want a murderer as your mate for the rest of your life."

She hesitated, her feet slowing just slightly, before she continued her charge.

Loki's eyes widened. She couldn't actually want him...could she?

"Of course I don't want a murderer," she said with a hardness that made his insides twist.

He pulled her to a stop and quickly removed his hand from her arm. His fingers tingled with pleasure. "Then work with me to rid us of this unfortunate connection. I won't drag you around and you won't try to run away." When she didn't argue, he continued, "Since my magic might be needed to cut the bond, that must come first."

She crossed her arms. "Might?"

"We are in uncharted territory, Jane. We might need the Gauntlet and ten Valkyries for all I know." Her brows furrowed in confusion, but he went on. "Just know that I am committed to ending this absurdity."

"And you won't try to kill me once it's over?"

"I'm not some mindless murderer." That she thought he was squeezed his chest like an invisible fist. "I won't need to kill you."

She drummed the fingers of one hand against her arm, then released them with a sigh. "Fine. Let's get this over with."

He watched her for a moment longer, trying to read her emotions like he had on Midgard but found it surprisingly muted, if there at all. But maybe she was just content with the course of action. Maybe she felt absolutely nothing for him. Anger and loss warred within Loki. Of course she didn't. No one but his mother had ever cared for him.

Without making sure she'd follow, he started walking in a slightly different direction than where she'd been mindlessly traveling. "We need to change clothes. There's a farm nearby where we can steal some."

"Steal?" she squeaked, rushing to catch up.

Detesting how he wanted to smile at her innocence, he gritted his teeth and ignored her.

At least, he tried to. The woman trampled through the woods like a herd of lazy cattle, breaking every twig in her path, rustling every leaf, all the while huffing and puffing. "Must you be so loud? They'll hear us coming a field away."

'They' meaning no one. There was an annual festival this time of year, and everyone, even the farmers, stayed in the city, pulling all-nighters until the grand finale.

She stopped and glared at him. "Humans don't see as well in the dark, you—"

Hearing the insult she'd left unvoiced had him clenching his hands, then, appalled by his reaction to her scorn, he instantly relaxed them.

They stood in tense silence until she sighed. "Am I really that loud?"

"Is a rampaging wild boar loud?"

She rolled her eyes. "Okay then, carry me." When he laughed incredulously, she added, "I'm serious. Just not like a sack of potatoes again."

He prowled toward her, enjoying the sight of her straightening her back and locking her knees. "Are you certain?"

"Unfortunately, yes." She watched his every move, like a rabbit wary of a wolf. "You're right. I'm too loud and, while I don't condone stealing, we need clothes that will help us blend in."

"I'm glad you're capable of recognizing superior intelligence." This time, he allowed himself to fully smile at her annoyance.

Without further ado, he swept in, hooking an arm under her legs before catching her with the other. Then, lifting her to his chest, he looked down at her brown eyes shining in the moonlight, wide and...lust-filled? He almost dropped her in surprise.

No. It was just a trick of the light. Or maybe wishful thinking. He tore his gaze off her and forced himself to focus on the path ahead. She seemed to both cling to him and hold herself away. If she wasn't the most confusing creature in the nine realms, then he was the Alfather.

He placed her down when they reached the cottage, bleached stone with a bronze-colored roof, just like all the others lying on the outskirts of the city. She followed his every move: stopping to listen, creeping under the large windows, slithering along the wall. None of it was needed, of course, but he enjoyed her earnest effort.

When she noticed him quietly sniggering, she glared at him and made to leave. He caught her arm before she could get far.

"Loki, I swear," she said in a furious whisper, "if you keep this up, I will..."

He waited for her to finish.

"I will..."

Dispensing of the unnecessary stealth, he pulled her toward the door and spoke aloud. "You are a kitten with no claws, Jane."

She jerked her arm free. "I will go straight to the Alfather and tell him everything."

He watched her carefully. She stared at him without a flicker of doubt. She was serious. His brows lowered and his lips thinned. "You'll be lucky if they don't kill you first. Warriors think more with their fists than with their heads."

She shrugged. "That only means you'll have even less time to cut the bond."

Because he would die soon after her, die as a powerless mortal. Spinning on his heel, he stalked to the door and kicked it open.

"Loki!" she hissed in surprise and rushed after him.

"There's a festival in the city. No one is—"

A sword's gleaming blade swiped at his head. He ducked, pushing Jane back, then darted in, eliminating the distance needed for the weapon's effectiveness. In one smooth movement, he grabbed the man's head, kicked his legs out from under him, and twisted the attacker's neck until it snapped and the body went limp. He let it fall to the floor in a satisfying thud.

Jane gasped. The sharp inhalation was louder than his heartbeat pounding in his ears. Loki's gaze jerked to hers. She sat on the ground, just outside the door where he had pushed her, with a hand over her mouth and shocked eyes that were fixed on the large corpse.

He took a step toward her, and she scrambled backwards.

She looked at him then, differently than she had as of yet. Her pointed stare, untrusting and afraid, was like a spear to his chest. She might have called him a murderer, but knowing it was different than seeing it done.

This was in self-defense though, and, honestly, the times he had killed Jane, he knew she wouldn't truly die, not so long as he was alive.

Turning from her, he made to enter the hallway leading to the bedrooms, but a woman leapt out of the darkness, fingers clawing for his throat. Loki swiped her hands away and snaked an arm around her neck. Her strained cry was cut off as he cinched his grip tighter.

"No!" Jane shouted.

The woman flailed about, struggling to breathe.

Jane jumped to her feet and rushed into the small house. "Let her go."

He couldn't hold her gaze. "No one can know we're here."

"You don't have to do this. You don't have to kill her."

"If she lives, then news of my arrival will spread. I will be hunted and locked away for good by morning."

The woman's movements slowed.

Jane eased closer to him, as if he were a skittish animal. "So we bind and gag her. That'll give us more time."

He considered everything. News of the couple's death would spread as well, but that would take at least a day, and no one would know he was the murderer.

"Please," Jane whispered, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

He let the woman go.

As she slumped to the floor, Jane rushed to her side and checked for a pulse, then sighed in relief. "Thank you."

"Search the rooms for clothes." He grabbed the woman's arms and dragged her into the bathroom where he could stuff her in the freestanding tub and tie her limbs together. He grumbled the entire time about the effort needed to do such mundane tasks when his magic would have completed it in a flick of a finger.

After he hid the man's body and changed into the too-wide clothes Jane had wordlessly handed him, he waited for her in the living room, pacing the small space with hands clenched behind his back. Why did he care if she truly saw him as a murderer now? It was for the best. The more she hated him, the more she would desire to rid herself of him. Despite it guaranteeing her cooperation, her untrusting eyes haunted him.

Minutes passed and Jane was still holed up in the room. What was taking her so long? The farmers couldn't have owned any lady's clothing that required attendants to pin, button and tie everything together.

Marching down the hallway, he rapped his knuckles on the wooden door. "For the love of Asgard, Jane, have you fallen asleep?"

He took a step back when she cracked opened the door wide enough to show only half of her face. She looked at the floor instead of him. "I'm having a little difficulty, okay?"

"Let me see."

She flushed and her gaze snapped to him. "I'm not fully dressed."

"Clearly, otherwise we would've already been on our way." He placed a hand on the door and gently nudged it open.

She shoved it closed. "Hold on...let me put something on first."

Sighing, he gave her a moment then pushed his way in. He faltered at the sight of her, fully covered and yet barely so. The gauzy, nearly translucent shift hung off her and pooled around her feet like a loosely wrapped threadbare blanket, exposing her curves without fully revealing them.

He forced out a breath and focused on the task at hand. She at least had the undergarment correct, even if it was much too large. He hadn't realized she was that much smaller than the Asgardian woman. Her presence was certainly larger than her body.

Swaths of fabric lay on the bed, dresser, and floor. While the fashion here wasn't as simple as it was in Midgard, she should've been able to put the three sections of the dress together.

Grabbing a black skirt, a tan wood-stiffened stay, and a green gown, all rough fabric that made him grimace just touching them, he set to dressing her.

She stood straight-backed with cheeks that were pink, bordering on red. A corner of his mouth lifted, and he moved closer to her, enjoying the warmth her embarrassment radiated, until she flinched slightly away. He wondered if she would ever not be afraid of him now. Part of him desperately wanted her to be, but then the other half wanted her to desire him as much as he did her.

Everything about her intoxicated him, from her sharp mind to her soulful eyes. His body craved to be near her, always had.

Closing the space she'd created, he had her slip an arm through the stay, then the other, no different than putting on a jacket. He brushed back her silky hair, skimming his fingers over her bare neck before lightly adjusting the garments over her shoulders. Her eyes fluttered closed and her lips parted in an exhalation that made his knees weaken.

Admonishing himself for his reaction to her—again—he returned his attention to the stay and moved to stand in front of her. The shift gaped at her chest and would need to be adjusted if it were to look right when he tied the garment together.

Upon opening her eyes, Jane saw his hands inches away from her breasts and she nearly jumped away from him. "I have it now, thank you." Pushing him toward the door, she continued. "I just wasn't certain what went on first and whether this thing was supposed to be tied in the front or the back."

Before he could reply, he found himself out in the hallway with the door slamming in his face. He stood there, smiling like the ridiculous fool he was, then forced his legs to move back to the living room.

Several minutes later, the bedroom door creaked open and Jane appeared before him as an Asgardian farmwife, too poor to afford proper fitting clothes, and yet he still found her ravishing. The bond, he reminded himself. It was just the bond and nothing else. They had no future together. She was a mere mortal. He was a god.

Without acknowledging her, he made for the front door and then down the road leading to town. Another hour walk and they would be blending in the crowded festival.

Neither of them spoke, and he did his best to forget about a nearly naked Jane, skin flushed and lips beckoning him. It did no good, though. The image was seared in his brain. He had to plan how to sneak into the palace. He had to make sure no one noticed him. He had to do many things, but his mind was frustratingly fixed on that small woman on his heels. Maybe once the bond was gone, he could focus properly again.

Only a smattering of the shops' lights were on. He'd expected more to be open, but they were still far enough from the festival that it could be normal. The sky was still dark with night. Bakeries, however, were always busy well before the sun made its appearance. The mouth-watering aroma of bread wafted to them as they traveled down the oddly empty streets.

Jane's stomach growled. Thankfully, his own didn't announce the hunger that had begun to twist his stomach. Or maybe that was her hunger he was feeling. Regardless, mortal bodies were weak and demanding. He squashed the need to consume food and kept moving.

He expected her to complain or at least ask when they might next eat. She did neither.

The merest glance back at her immediately caught her attention. He swung his head to look forward again and rolled his eyes at himself. He shouldn't care about her, shouldn't be intrigued by her. She was nothing.

Buildings were gradually positioned closer together and increased in size and opulence the deeper they walked into the city. Dirt roads shifted to cobblestone, then to smooth, polished marble. And yet, music and raucous voices did not fill the air. Instead of merry townspeople and rowdy children, only the occasional guard walked the streets.

Just what had happened here?

He pulled Jane around the corner of a stately house and flattened them against the cool wall just before a woman in gold armor marched by. Her clanging footsteps drifted out of earshot, and he exhaled.

"Loki, where's the festival?"

The fact that she hadn't fought him spoke of her own unease. "I don't know."

He looked down at her and realized he had her trapped between himself and the house, his hands pinning her wrists to the wall. Her racing heartbeat ticked under his touch. Thinking their position frightened her, he stepped back.

"Something is wrong," he said.

Her silence only enhanced the city's eerie stillness. It was as if half of the people were gone and somberness was left in their absence.

"War," a new, yet familiar voice said.

Loki spun around to find his mother walking out of the shadows obscuring the far end of the house. He smiled at the sight of her, still as beautiful and regal as he remembered, before a frown took over. "War?"

She moved closer to them, a dark hooded robe hiding her glittering jewels and radiant gown from twinkling in the streetlights and calling attention to them. She reached a pale hand toward him and paused before she actually touched his cheek. "My boy has finally returned."

Jane's gasp pulled his mother's eyes off him. "You're Queen Frigga." Her gaze bounced from Loki to his mother, then she attempted a curtsy that resembled a stumble.

A corner of Loki's lips lifted.

"Jane Foster," Frigga said, as if she'd been waiting for this moment. "I thank you for returning my son to me, though I regret the path that had been taken." At her last words, she trained an intimidating stare on Loki.

He was not one to be quelled, even if it had been over three hundred years since he'd last been the focus of her disapproval. "I did what had to be done. Where are you?"

Jane's brow furrowed in confusion, and Loki swiped a hand through his mother to show her Frigga was just an illusion.

"Magic?" she asked, circling his mother.

Frigga nodded, then looked at him. "Meet me near the pavilion in the Orangery. Do you remember the secret way?"

"I may have been made mortal, but I have not lost my wits."

Jane narrowed her eyes at him, clearly irritated and yet—

"Hurry, but be careful," Frigga warned. "No one can know you are here."

Just before his mother disappeared, she smiled at him and Jane. It had held a touch of sadness and worry that left him wondering how badly the war was going. Asgard had won every battle and defeated every foe. He couldn't imagine this time being any different, but there she was—here the city was—proof that something was horribly wrong.

AN: First off...holy moly, I've never ever ever had that many reviews for a chapter. *squeals in delight* I texted my sister each one because I was so thrilled. Thanks! They make me feel like this story is worthwhile. I just hope it continues to delight everyone.

Thank you Mercury97 for helping make my sentences clearer, and thanks to my beautiful sister for working out the major flubs first. (She always gets the first draft and we often have a good laugh over my mistakes.)