RATING: T
GENRE: Steampunk AU, Non-magical AU, Human AU, Drama, Romance
SUMMARY: Her task was simple: infiltrate high society and acquire the device that would bring her people freedom. Unfortunately, one of the Odinson heirs was too clever to fall for her ruse.

GAME, SET, MATCH

"I know," Loki whispered close to her ear, sending a thick swell of chills dancing over her skin. "I always know."

Jane tried not to flinch, polite smile painted on her lips as he led her in languid circles at the masquerade. The next turn took her near her mentor. Erik cast her a worried glance, but she shook her head—a small movement, almost imperceptible, but not enough that Loki missed it.

His mouth split into a wide, cruel smile, and her heart pounded like a hammer ringing in her ears. "You think yourself so very clever," he murmured, cinching his arm about her waist tighter, "hiding behind your mask, pretending to be a lady."

Her cheeks burned at the implication in his tone. "I pretend at nothing, sir," she returned, words clipped. "I think our dance is over." She attempted to extricate herself from his grasp, but he was as unyielding as a statue.

He breathed a soft, raspy laugh. "Oh, but I'm not finished with you yet, Miss Foster."

The air in her lungs went abruptly stale at his use of her true surname. How had he discovered it? "You are mistaken—" she began weakly, but he spoke over her.

"I am not," he said. "You've come for the modulator. Are you planning to distract me again with a kiss?"

Heat flushed over her face as she recalled the failed attempt to retrieve the device more than a year before. It had been locked in the library safe in Lord Odin's zephyr. The job should have been easy, a break-in during the twilight of night while the house slept. She'd been surprised by Loki when he entered the room just before she could crack the safe. She'd worn a mask then, too. But he captured her, tore off the black knit thing, and glared down at her, snarl curling his lip. As he was over a foot taller than she, and of formidable strength, she had, in an act of desperation, tipped her chin up and pressed her mouth against his. Darcy and Erik made a clean escape. Jane joined them moments later, leaving behind a stunned aristocrat.

Tonight's gambit was risky. She'd spent the better part of a year infiltrating the gentry under a false name. It had taken her time to rise in the hierarchy enough to receive this prestigious invitation. Loki was not supposed to have been here, but instead captaining a dirigible against a growing rebellion—against her people.

But just as he knew her in an instant despite the mask, so she knew him. His raven hair slicked back, the smooth manner in which he carried himself, the ghost of a smirk as he surveyed the crush until his eyes found her. The crowd had parted for him as he crossed the room to her, and she steeled herself against his presence.

"Are your accomplices with you, then?" he asked, pulling her out of memory. "Doctor Selvig and Miss Lewis."

"I am alone," Jane replied, keeping the tremor from her voice. How? How did he know all their secrets?

Loki shook his head. "Liar." He took her for another turn, spinning them both closer to toward the outer doors, his hand an unrelenting vise at her side.

Erik was lost to the crowd, and Darcy... If Jane stalled long enough, perhaps the girl could finish the job. Jane could make this sacrifice, be branded a traitor and executed, if it ultimately meant the freedom of her people. The modulator was all that was needed to finish the bridge to another world. Was it truly theft when it was hers to begin with, crafted by her own hands? Stolen from her—as everything else—simply because she lacked the proper birthright.

She looked up at Loki, silently counting the crimes met out by his ilk against her people, using them as tinder to enflame her hatred. Her kind had been treated as property to be used and abused at whim. Minds and bodies that always belonged to them—the sovereign "protectors" who ruled over all. The fire stoked to an inferno within her, she released the skirt of her gown and, curling her fingers into a fist, swung at Loki's face with all her might. Here she signed her death warrant.

Gasps and murmurs rippled through the group of revelers, and Loki turned back to her, mask askew, smiling through bloodied teeth. Jane saw the guards in resplendent uniforms pushing into the throng, advancing on her. Yes. Pay attention to me. Anything to save the others.

But Loki held up his hand to stay their pursuit and feigned a laugh. "I deserved that," he said loudly, wiping at his mouth. "Merely a lover's quarrel. We're going somewhere more private to finish our row. Do carry on."

He reached for her elbow, and she jerked away from his touch.

"Don't," he warned in low growl. "I'm keeping you alive."

"And what if I prefer death?" she asked in an equally caustic tone.

"Another lie, Miss Foster."

He ushered her through the outer doors and nodded to the servants posted there to close them again. The din of the fête became muted, and she glanced about the dark room, searching for an escape, as futile as the attempt might be. It was the library, the walls lined with shelves that spanned from floor to ceiling, illuminated by a soft glow coming through the stained glass in the French doors behind her. The end of the vast room was lost to an inky blackness, She remembered her last visit here, the awe she felt at so much learning in one place, the grief and anger that such knowledge was barred to all but the aristocracy and their chosen pets.

Warmth churned in her middle as she remembered, too, the feel of his lips over hers—how it was only a beat before he gave into her kiss. How easy it would have been to lose herself in that moment.

He gripped her by the shoulders, forced her to face him. His mask was gone, and his pale eyes held hers as he undid her flimsy disguise. He was beautiful, face drawn in symmetrical angles—geometric perfection. But he was one of them, she reminded herself. An oppressor. Worthy only of contempt.

"So much fire," he murmured with a ghost of a smile.

It was the only warning he gave before taking her face between his long hands as he leaned down to inhale her. The onslaught was demanding, merciless, and she was caught up in the tide. This was so terribly wrong; she despised him and those like him. And yet, in defiance of this truth, her body acted of its own accord. Her mouth met his eagerly, hungrily, yawning open to be tasted. Her fingers found purchase in the brocaded lapels of his coat, dragging him closer until nothing remained between them.

He broke off the kiss, panting with her as he stared down at her, avarice written in his features. The moment drew out between them in protracted silence. Every invective she would throw in his handsome face shriveled on her tongue when his prurient gaze flicked to her lips. Her eyes fell closed in calescent anticipation.

But no kiss came. Instead she felt something cool and heavy pressed into her hands. She looked down, brows furrowing at the metallic device she held. The modulator! She whipped her head up.

"A trap?" she asked, ashamed she had been so easily maneuvered.

"A game," he answered, retreating a step, then another. "Just a bit of fun."

She frowned in confusion. "I don't—"

"It's really quite simple, Miss Foster," he replied with a lurid smile. "You run. I chase." He pointed toward the shadowed end of the library. "You had better make your escape now. I'll be along in a few days."

He opened the door behind and gave her a bow. "Until we meet again." He slipped into the ballroom, leaving her alone.

She stared after him only a heartbeat before hitching up her skirts and running through the library.

She would not lose. Not to him.

~FIN~

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts! Drop me a review. XD