He ushered her through, and Cynara felt a rush of pressure against her, like air resistance. She flinched but Loki's hand splayed across her back braced her, and they went forward, passing from the faint sunlight and chill of Barentsøya and into a glittering night on another icy vista.
A canyon.
Cynara looked around at the towering glaciers rising thousands of feet up, at the deep black of the sky above, strewn with stars in unfamiliar constellations. She shot a questioning look at her husband, biting her lips to keep her sudden surge of fear under control.
He wouldn't have brought her here if it was dangerous, she told herself, but Cynara wasn't quite sure she believed it. Loki took off his helmet, and a little breeze fluttered, making his dark hair flare at the nape of his neck. "What is this place?" Cynara asked, taking in the desolate grandeur all around them. The cold seeped through her clothing and left her chilled; her breath made plumes in the air.
"A . . . haven," Loki told her, his tone soft. "A forgotten fortress now ours, Wife. Why do you think I gave you territory within YOUR world close to the where portals are?"
"You didn't tell me that at the time," Cynara pointed out, slightly miffed and very cold now. Loki seemed impervious to the chill and strode forward, clearly confident that she would follow. Since there was no choice, she did. They trudged along through the windy canyon, Cynara staying in the windbreak created by the figure moving ahead of her. She wasn't afraid, exactly, but being in a strange dimension with Loki as her only companion didn't make for a great deal of confidence.
They covered nearly a quarter mile and suddenly he turned towards one rock wall of the canyon, twisting a hand towards it in an elegant gesture. The rock face slid apart to reveal twenty foot wooden doors carved with long serpents twisting around icicles. The carvings were weathered, and Cynara wondered how old they were—probably far more ancient than anything found on Earth.
Loki called out something in a strange language and in response the doors slid apart with a creaking sound. Cynara peered in, hoping like hell to get out of the wind, which had been freezing her ears.
"Wife," Loki intoned, and before she could say or do anything, he scooped her up and tossed her over one shoulder in an ungainly fashion, driving the breath from her lungs as he carried her over the threshold.
"Put. Me. Down!" Cynara puffed, trying to breathe. Loki toted her in as if she weighed nothing, and it struck her how much strength he had despite his lean frame. He set her on her feet once more a few strides later, and she glared at him warningly.
He grinned, not at all worried about her anger. "A tradition of many cultures is it not? You should be pleased I remembered."
"I suppose," she conceded, gazing around again. "At least we're out of the wind."
"Welcome to Ravenscroft," Loki announced, and gestured at the long hall in which they stood. "We shall be safe here."
It seemed an odd thing to say and Cynara shot him a sidelong look. "Safe? Are you in . . . danger?"
"I am never in danger," came his lofty reply. "Occasionally fools attempt to challenge my right to rule and there are forces that have yet to recognize my superiority over them."
"None are stronger; some simply have unexpected cunning, is that the case?" she countered sweetly. Saving face meant much to him, Cynara knew, and she glanced around the hall to give him a moment. The walls were hewn blue ice reinforced with stone pillars, and underfoot the frosty paving stones glittered with embedded gems in swirling patterns.
"Occasionally I find an opponent with unexpected strategies," Loki admitted grudgingly. "At the moment I have bested one such for possession of a device that gives me access to a hundred different worlds. With it I shall gain untold power and force the allfather to cede to me."
Cynara said nothing; she knew from Thor about the enmity that festered within her husband to best Odin and worked to stay out of that crossfire as best she could. Generally she managed because her time with Loki was often short and centered on other matters of a more basic and lusty nature.
Soon though, she fretted, she might be forced to choose sides, and it would not be fun to stand against Odin.
"So you're laying low for a while," Cynara replied soothingly. "Biding your time before you strike."
"Condescension is not an appealing quality in you, wife," Loki replied testily.
Cynara shot him a dry look. "I wasn't trying to talk down to you, Husband; I was merely postulating your plans. Is anyone else here?"
"Servants," Loki waved airily. "Enough to do my bidding and manage this place. Enough of this—the night is cold and I desire you to warm me for a while. I have missed your skin and longed for your talents."
It was a compliment of sorts, and Cynara tried not to roll her eyes even as she smiled. "I've missed you too; In fact I thought of you every time I looked at the Torden Stein."
This made his dimples deep as they bracketed his smile. "And they call ME silver-tongued. Come—to bed."
Cynara wasn't prepared when he scooped her up again, but she braced herself, allowing him to carry her forward through the blue ice halls as she clung on feeling both amused and pleased. Yes he was amoral and capricious and dangerous, but he was also at times a god of intimate passions and unique charms.
Impatiently Loki kicked open the far doors and they gave way under his boot, swinging open with a creak to reveal yet another cavern of pale blue ice. Cynara got the impression of great blocks, hewn and fitted like pyramid stones forming the walls.
Then Loki tossed her and she gave a yelp, landing on a fur-covered bed and bouncing a few times from the force. He stood at the foot of the bed, watching her with a gleam in his eye, and Cynara felt a liquid rush of desire flood through her in response. She rolled to her knees and began to undo her parka, amused at how unsexy the maneuver was. "A little help, Husband?"
"Oh I like to watch," he murmured back, doing just that. She wrestled her way out of her outerwear, and slowed when she'd kicked off her boots, feeling slightly foolish; could a cable knit sweater and Gore-Tex pants be considered even remotely sensual? Cynara looked up at Loki.
Apparently so. He stared at her, green eyes bright, lips parted slightly. "Go on," Loki encouraged her softly. "You have my undivided attention."
Cynara laughed. "It's your lucky day—I wore nice underwear for once."
Lazily she rose on her knees and pulled the sweater off over her head, grateful that she'd packed this particular tropical print Jezebel bra and panty set as a laundry emergency back-up. Cynara tossed the sweater at Loki, who batted it way without breaking his gaze at her.
"I approve," he told her, his voice thick. "Heartily."
"Thought you would," Cynara agreed, running her hands through her hair and sighing. It dawned on her that she should have felt chilly with so much ice around, but the ambient air was comfortable. "Silk. Very warm."
"Silk," Loki repeated. He hadn't moved at all, but Cynara sensed his tension in the set of his shoulders and the arrogant stance of his hips, and an odd pride filled her in knowing she was the cause of it.
She crossed her arms in front of her in a way that emphasized her cleavage as she fought a sense of embarrassment at putting on a show. Cynara had never thought of herself as any sort of a vamp, but Loki's unwavering attention egged her on, and she gave a little moan as she winked at him.
Loki laughed, the low amused tone of a man being indulged. He waved a hand towards Cynara, and a second later she found herself rising up off the mattress. It took effort to appear relaxed; she wanted to flail her arms out but forced herself to stay still.
He gestured her forward, and when she'd drifted close, Loki bent, his face over hers as he slid a hand up one of her thighs towards the zipper of her pants. "I find myself too impatient, too driven by the stone's influence to wait," he whispered, and tugged the tiny tab down.