The same scene from a different viewpoint, because Taryn pointed out that I'm didn't get into her head AT ALL during the first part of her and Loki's story. Also because I do what I want. And because Hiddles, too. So there.

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Taryn's feet pointedly told her that they'd had quite enough of her pacing, thank you very much, and if she didn't knock it off they'd retaliate with a cramp attack she wouldn't enjoy at all. She scowled at the stilettos but gave in to the not-so-subtle hints her feet were sending her and flopped down on the recliner.

"Bastard," she growled as her skirt flew around her with the sudden movement, but that wasn't enough. She tried harder. "Bastard ass-clown fuck-monkey shit-head!"

Better.

Normally she wouldn't use such language, but she hadn't been stood up for a date since college–the college she'd attended, not the one where she taught, just to be clear. And if it was a choice between wallowing in hurt feelings or turning the air blue with profanity, well, she'd always liked blue.

Actually, she liked green better, she mused, smoothing the skirt down over her thighs. This green tank-dress was a sexy little number, fitted across the bodice and waist, flaring out at her hips and ending high on her thighs. It wasn't every thirty-something who could wear a dress like this, especially with gold stilettos, and she'd been quite pleased with her reflection when she'd gotten ready for tonight's date. Red hair swinging free about her shoulders, light brown eyes sparkling with anticipation, legs seeming to go for miles–yes, thirty-something college professor or not, Taryn knew she looked damn hot and she liked the feeling.

But nine o'clock had come and gone, and so had ten, and any second now her old grandfather clock would start to chime eleven. All with no sign of the aforementioned bastard ass-clown fuck-monkey shit-head who'd asked her to go dancing.

She shouldn't have agreed in the first place. It wasn't a good idea to get involved with those she worked with. She knew that, had known it even then, but she'd said yes anyway. Randall Fosse was new at the university, by all reports a brilliant mathematician, intelligent, elegant, attractive and quite popular with the coeds. She'd been flattered that he'd sought her out, even though she was well aware that her own hotness rating on RateMyProfessor .com was pretty high, too.

But mostly she'd said yes because he'd reminded her, just a bit, of another tall, dark-haired, elegant, brilliant man.

Well, not exactly a man.

Taryn sighed and thumped her head back against the chair. "You're an idiot," she told herself, and nodded in agreement with her own assessment. Yes, she was an idiot. Because apparently she couldn't be satisfied with the extraordinary luck of having the Norse God of Lies and Mischief for a friend. No, she had to want more. "Keep dreaming, girl. He's so far out of your league, you're not even in the same galaxy."

Something that was quite literally true right now. She hadn't seen Loki since he'd brought his brother to meet her during his last visit. Now that had been a crazy day. It had started as a typical Sunday morning, sleeping late, two cups of coffee and maybe a movie in the afternoon, and suddenly there had been not one, but two gods on her porch. Thor had even brought Mjolnir with him. She'd spent the day feeding the blond God of Thunder an inordinately large amount, hearing him tell tales of his battles and triumphs, attempting to keep her jaw from dropping and her eyes from popping out with wonder, and trying to figure out why Loki was sulking at the table instead of joining in the conversation.

Frowning now, she blew out a deep sigh. Loki had said he'd come back and he'd never broken a promise to her. In fact, even in mythology, the God of Lies was well known to never break his word, which was just one of the many ironies that so fascinated her about him. But two months had passed without a word and honestly, she was beginning to worry that whatever she'd done to offend him during that visit with Thor–and she still had no idea what that could've been–had ended their friendship permanently.

The thought of never seeing Loki again, never matching wits with him, never scrambling to keep up with his brilliance, never laughing at his mischief–the fear had been gnawing at the back of her mind for weeks now, depressing as hell and impossible to banish. So yes, she'd agreed to go out with Randall, breaking her own rule of never dating anyone from the university, knowing deep inside that she was using him as a stand-in for someone with whom he could never compare.

And he'd stood her up. Talk about adding insult to injury.

She was about to embark on another profanity-laden description of his lack of character (although she wasn't sure she could top fuck-monkey) when the doorbell rang. "Oh, you have to be kidding me," she growled, getting to her feet–and damn, beauty hurt when it involved balancing on five-inch daggers–and going to the door.

She looked through the peep-hole. Sure enough, Russell stood in the circle of light cast by her porch lamp, smiling as if utterly assured of his welcome. "Hey, babe, open up!" he called–he'd probably heard her heels clicking on the entryway tile. "It's time to have some fun!"

Taryn slowly and deliberately unlocked the door. No way in hell was she going out with him now–bad enough to show up two hours late, worse to act like it wasn't a big deal. Like she should be happy to wait for him and feel honored that he'd decided to finally show up. No, no, and more no, but she would enjoy showing him what he'd lost out on by being an insensitive dick. This dress hugged her curves in all the right places and she hadn't spent so much time on her hair and makeup for nothing.

Let the bastard see exactly what he now had no chance at!

When she opened the door, Randall did a doubletake. "Whoa, baby," he said, whistling low as he looked her up and down, just shy of leering. "Lookin' pretty damn hot there! I should call you Professor Sex-ayyy! You ready to have a good time?"

She didn't bother returning the once-over. Didn't care what he was wearing. "I was," she said, voice icy. "Two hours ago."

He pouted, then gave her a wink and a grin. Did he really think that was charming? "Sorry, baby, I got sidetracked," he said, and was she imagining a little slur to his words? "But I'm here now and you've got me all to yourself."

Nope, not imagining it–he was drunk. That was beyond insulting. "I'm not your baby," Taryn informed him coldly. "And I'm not interested in having you all to myself, nor am I going anywhere with you. You're drunk, Randall. Now go home before you embarrass yourself further." And she started to close the door in his face.

"Hey, no, wait a sec!"

For a drunk man, he had pretty good reflexes. Randall got a hand around the door and a foot wedged in the frame before she could slam it closed, and he pushed it back open. "C'mon, Tare, I'm sorry, okay? You look so hot and we don't have to go out, know what I mean?"

He reached for her and she slapped his hand away. The first tickle of alarm ran down her spine. "You need to leave," Taryn repeated firmly. "Right. Now."

Randall suddenly shoved the door, throwing it wide open and knocking her off-balance. He caught her around the waist when she stumbled and dragged her against him. "You came out here looking so good, I just have to kiss you," he said, and Taryn barely got her hand up in time to block his lips.

"Let me go!" she shouted, shoving at his shoulders.

He laughed. "Playing hard to get, eh? I like that!"

And now she was pissed. How had she ever thought this dickhead resembled Loki? This time Taryn didn't bother trying to get free. Instead she twisted in his arms and simultaneously stomped her heel down on his instep and dug a thumb into his eye, hard.

Randall howled with the unexpected pain. Both hands flew to his eye and Taryn stumbled away from him. But before she could dive into the house and lock the door, he grabbed her wrist, and the lessons drilled into her mind in the tae kwon do classes Loki had talked her into taking echoed through her mind.

Don't fight fair. Fight to win. Put your attacker down and make sure he stays there.

When he yanked her toward him again, Taryn used the momentum to make her right hook to his nose that much harder. Her hand exploded with pain as something crunched–she really hoped it was his nose and not her knuckles. He let go of her wrist to clutch his wounded nose, but she wasn't done. She drove her knee into the big muscle of his thigh with all her strength, watched him collapse, and finished up by slamming one of her five-inch golden stilettos straight into his groin.

He screamed like a girl and Taryn ran back into her house, slammed the front door, and threw all the locks.

"Why did you do that?" Randall sobbed, curled up in the fetal position, cupping his crotch, nose bleeding. "What the hell's wrong with you?"

"You're drunk," she shouted through the door. "And if you're not off my porch in sixty seconds, I'm calling the cops. Get out of here and don't come back!"

She stared through the peep-hole long enough to see him crawl back to his car, then moved to the window to watch him drive unsteadily away. Her entire body shook with reaction. She'd never been in a fight before–never! Loki's face rose in her mind, convincing her to take self-defense classes, deftly persuading her to give in when she'd tried to decline. And oh, but the Silvertongue could persuade the sun that it was the moon if he chose. She smiled a little–she'd never stood a chance.

She would have to thank him for that if she ever saw him again.

Taryn sank back down onto the recliner, arms wrapped tight around herself, cell phone clutched in one hand. If he came back, she'd just call the cops. In fact, she should probably do that anyway. The man had assaulted her and while she'd prevented herself from getting hurt, she'd injured him for sure. If he called the cops first, she could be in serious trouble.

Sighing, she lifted the phone and started to dial 911.

The ringing of the doorbell stopped her. For a moment, Taryn just stared, utterly flabbergasted. Then rage, pure, burning rage flared in her veins and she all but stomped to her front door, growling, "Are you really so stupid that you came back for more? You think I won't really call the–"

Cops, she was going to say, but when she looked through the peephole, the tall, dark, elegant man waiting on her porch wasn't Randall Fosse.

Taryn fumbled with the chain and deadbolts, then threw the door open. "Loki!" she gasped, staring at the god standing before her in a dark button-down and black slacks. Had her thoughts actually summoned him? "It's you!"

One perfect black eyebrow rose as he gave her a little bow. "I certainly hope you were expecting someone else, or I'll have to wrack my brain for how I've wronged you."

Taryn laughed. Never in a million years could she imagine Loki behaving the way Randall had. "Oh, Loki, you're the only man I know who has never done anything to piss me off," she said, and then welcomed him with her usual hug.

It felt so good to lean against his strength, especially now when she was still so shaken. He was solid in her embrace, comforting, far stronger than any human, yet so gentle as he returned her hug. "Man?" he teased, and she laughed again even though the reminder that he was so far beyond her reach stung.

"How about the only male, then, oh mighty God of Mischief?" Taryn teased back to hide how much she didn't want to let him go, but she knew hadn't been as convincing as she would've hoped when he frowned.

But all he said was, "I'll allow that," and flicked her nose before letting her lead him into the living room. She smiled a little, imagining him checking out her rear view–like he would ever be so crass, but it was a nice thought. And sure enough, when she turned back to face him, his gaze was on her face, just as she'd anticipated.

She considered teasing him about knowing he wasn't a mere man because any man she knew would've taken the opportunity to ogle, but he spoke before she had the chance. Arms crossed over his chest, Loki said, "So, shall we discuss who has offended you and how, so that I may devise the appropriate method of retribution?"

Taryn bit her lip. Little as she wanted to give Randall another second of her mental time, Loki's offer was touching. "You're sweet, Loki," she said, reaching out impulsively and clasping his hand.

He shuddered in mock-disgust. "Never tell anyone else that. Warrior culture, remember? I'll lose all my cred."

She snorted–like anyone could look at Loki and not feel the aura of complete and utter bad-ass that he projected at all times. He laughed too, but he didn't drop his questioning. "Come, now, I haven't eviscerated anyone is far too long, and I fear to lose my skills. I suspect a worthy cause awaits. Tell your god what's happened, my tender little mortal, and let me make it all better."

She laughed again–only Loki could make her laugh after the night she'd had. And the way he called her his mortal sent a shiver through her, even though she knew he was only kidding with her. Taryn forced her mind back to the present. "All right, as long as you stop calling me your tender little mortal. It makes me feel like dinner."

"You're stalling," Loki said, and Taryn reluctantly released his hand and entered the kitchen. No way would she get through this story without a drink.

She tried to blow it off one more time, though. "Just a stupid man being stupid," she said, but of course he wasn't satisfied by that. He was the only man–god–whatever she'd ever met who was as insatiably curious as she was, and she hadn't really held much hope that he'd let her get away with that. He kept prodding, each time a little more insistently, until finally she just gave in and told him everything.

And his reaction sent a whole different kind of shiver down her spine. When she told him that she'd had to fight her way out of Randall's unwelcome embrace, somehow, without moving a single muscle, Loki's entire demeanor changed. She'd never thought green eyes could be cold, but the fury in his gaze made her force back a shudder and his earlier teasing comment about not having eviscerated anyone recently didn't seem amusing at all anymore.

All right, so Taryn wasn't stupid, and she knew he was immensely powerful. Whether she called him a god or an alien or a magical genie, he wasn't anything that was confined by Earthly law or norms. It was just that she could so easily forget what that meant. Right now his power, his age, his different-ness slapped her in the face with the force of Thor's hammer and she actually felt a moment's fear for Randall.

"Hey, it's no big deal, Loki," Taryn said hurriedly, hoping to return him to the easygoing mood he'd been in when he'd arrived. "It's all right, I promise. I'm just sorry I answered the door in such a crappy mood. He only left a couple minutes before you got here and I thought he'd come back. It's a shame you missed seeing my tae kwon do skills in action, though," she added, trying to make him smile again. "Maybe you'd think twice before teasing me in the future."

Loki's fingers twitched and she could almost feel him longing for a weapon. Warrior culture, remember? she thought, and bit her lip. In his world, assaulting a woman was a crime punishable by the blood eagle, a form of torture so brutal it would've made Hannibal Lecter cry like a little girl.

"It is far from all right," Loki growled, his deep, beautiful voice laced with enough venom to wipe out a city. She was extremely glad that his anger wasn't directed at her. "Do not apologize." And he set his wine glass aside, lifted her throbbing hand in his, and blew a gentle breath across her aching knuckles.

Taryn's eyes widened as the pain immediately ebbed, the bruises vanishing without a trace. When she took a deep breath to thank him, she felt something else–another spell, surely, but one she could take or leave. It offered peace and calm to her shaken nerves. More magic, she thought, dazed by the casual way he displayed such power, but she trusted him and silently assented to the spell. God knew–hah–she could use a little calm right now.

She wondered if he'd also partaken of the spell because as soon as she felt the soothing effects hit, his shoulders also relaxed a bit. He squeezed her hands gently. "I also wish I'd gotten here earlier," he said, but now his voice was its usual beautiful, melodic self–dark chocolate and silk, smooth and utterly intoxicating. "I would have enjoyed teaching him the consequences of mistreating a lady, although you clearly did not need to be rescued. I'm proud of you." And he met her gaze, letting her see the truth of his words in his eyes. "To use a Midgardian phrase, you kicked his ass quite satisfactorily."

Her chest tightened at the look in his eyes and suddenly she just had to do it. Taryn didn't let herself think about it because she knew she'd chicken out if she did. Instead, she leaned swiftly forward and kissed his cheek, sitting back just as quickly. "Thank you, Loki," she murmured, wondering if she was blushing like the sunset right now as her lips tingled with the memory of impossibly smooth, cool skin.

"Do you still wish to dance?" he asked, his voice even, not even blinking–he showed no reaction to her kiss whatsoever, and suddenly she felt foolish.

Of course he hadn't reacted. He was a god. She needed to get her head on straight and start acting like the friend she was supposed to be, not making passes at him. "You're sweet to offer, but no. It's a bit too late to go out now anyway," she replied. Then she smiled. "Besides, I know how much you hate crowds."

But to her surprise, he didn't let it go. Instead he stood and looked down at her. "You are dressed to dance," he pointed out, and suddenly the air around him shimmered. Tiny points of green and gold light swirled and flared, tracing new outlines, and in the blink of an eye, his outfit morphed and changed. Some kind of ceremonial armor, perhaps–it was unlike anything she'd ever seen, green fabric and black leather and bright metal interwoven in a complex and elegant pattern. Intricately engraved golden bracers covered his forearms, and a long, emerald green cape swept back from matching golden plates on his shoulders. Black leather hugged his long legs and disappeared into knee-high boots. A flick of a finger turned on her sound system. "And now I am as well. Will you truly pass up the opportunity to learn some Æsir dances?"

Taryn tried hard not to gape, but damn, it was difficult. "Wow. That is so cool," she said breathlessly, eyes wide, wondering if she sounded as utterly blindsided as she felt. Had she thought he looked good in normal clothing? Standing before her now in this finery, utterly alien and so handsome her heart might leap right out of her chest at the sight of him, Taryn had never imagined any man could be so compelling. "Put it like that and you know I can't refuse."

He smiled as she placed her hand in his and let him pull her to her feet. The light pressure of his hand at her waist seemed to burn through the dress. Taryn relaxed quickly, though–Loki had the masculine grace of a panther and was unsurprisingly a wonderful dancer, his lead easy to follow. "I'm so glad you came tonight, Loki," she said softly, briefly giving in to the urge to lean her head against his chest. Mmm, the scent of leather and magic, something so uniquely him. "How long can you stay?"

"Not long enough," he replied ruefully, and she looked up, disappointed. Sometimes he stayed for days at a time, turning her boring world into a whirlwind of laughter and fun and mischief. "I've only managed to sneak a few hours."

A few hours? Her heart sank with disappointment, but she pushed the feeling away quickly. "Lots going on in Asgard?" she asked, but what she was thinking was, he's so busy and he still found time to visit me… Even though she'd hoped for more, knowing that he'd done so made her feel much better.

"We're in some rather heated negotiations with Alfheim," he replied with a humorless smile that immediately piqued her curiosity, but he didn't elaborate. "Also the dwarves are once more attempting to steal territory from their neighbors, our allies. They seem to enjoy picking fights they cannot win. The All-Father is set on avoiding another war this time, however, and wishes to resolve the issue diplomatically."

"And of course your silver tongue is needed to pave the way."

He nodded. "It does rather help to avoid war when at least one person at the table can think beyond the level of let's hit that annoying idiot with an axe," he said dryly, and Taryn laughed, imagining Thor sitting at one of those negotiations. Even a single afternoon spent with Loki's overwhelming brother was enough to know that he would be worse than useless at a peace summit. "And you?" Loki asked. "Anything exciting in your world?"

Taryn laughed again, shaking her head. "All of my excitement happened tonight." Then she gasped and spun around, looking for her cell phone. "Oh, I forgot to call the police and report it! I'll be in so much trouble if Randall files charges against me first–"

"I will take care of that," Loki interrupted smoothly, pulling her back into his embrace and segueing smoothly into another dance.

"How?" she asked, and realized just how stupid that question had been when Loki simply raised an eyebrow. He'd shown her several spells tonight–the obvious answer was right in front of her. "God, I wish I had magic," Taryn sighed. "I'm so jealous."

He chuckled. "What would you do with it?"

Oh, now there was a question! She didn't answer right away–if there was one thing she'd learned about Loki, it was that he rarely asked anything idly. He would learn something from her answer. She just needed to decide how much of her inner thoughts she wanted him to see.

In the end, she decided just to deflect. "Well, I'd definitely use it to find better guys to date." That should be safe enough. The last thing she wanted was to expose her feelings for him and possibly make him uncomfortable enough to leave. Out of your league, girl, she reminded herself sternly. Light-years out of your league.

But although she'd been going for humor, Loki didn't seem very happy with that answer. "You don't need magic for that," he told her. "Merely patience."

It sounded like something her mother would've said, rest her soul, but that advice wasn't as comforting at thirty-four as it had been at twenty. "One day my prince will come?" Taryn returned, and she was glad it didn't come out as sarcastic as it had been in her head. My prince has already come, she thought sadly, and he's my best friend.

His face eased and she knew he'd caught the reference to the Disney movie. "He will," he told her, smiling now. "You just need to recognize it when he does." And then he was twirling her, spinning, making her dizzy, making her laugh, making her forget to dig for any deeper meaning in his words.

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Yes, RateMyProfessor. com is a real website, and in addition to asking questions about the class itself, they really do ask students to rate their professors' hotness. Also, fuck-monkey is currently one of my favorite insults. Admit that it is awesome. You know you want to.

Enough reviews and I'll write out Loki's encounter with Randall. Yes, that was shameless and blatant, and I'm not sorry. *runs away cackling madly*