Letting the music wind around her like a lover, Darcy laughed and spun and felt herself relax. After Loki had scared, healed and bailed on her, she hadn't seen a trace of him in almost a week.

Seen being the operative word.

Even though it seemed crazy, Darcy could swear that the God of Mischief was playing with her. She had heard phantom laughing, felt something brush the back of her neck when she lay in bed at night, smelled the scent of him lingering in the corners – it was fucking creepy. Either she had a ridiculously yummy smelling poltergeist, or Loki was messing with her head. Stalking her.

Why?

She had thought they were friends…well, sorta. They shared a drink, exchanged numbers, had some nice conversation – hell, he'd helped her out with the little hidden camera situation. And he'd seen how much that had bothered her, so the fact that he was doing virtually the same thing didn't make sense.

And she kinda missed him. Which also made no sense, since he was still there. Possibly. Or else she was just going insane. There was such a thin line between naughty and evil and she wasn't sure just which side he was on sometimes.

So when Jane had asked her if she wanted to go out with her and Thor that night, Darcy had jumped at the chance. And she had been having a damn good time knocking back a few shots and hitting the dance floor with Jane.

As Thor wasn't much of a dancer, he just sat at a close table watching the two of them bump and grind with an expression on his face that was half-dazed and half-smug. She couldn't blame him – they were some hot looking chicks and Thor was the lucky bastard who got to take them home. Granted, that was more in the literal sense with Darcy – but he was bumping uglies with the superhot, supersmart Jane, so it was doubtful anyone would pity him the lack of threesome.

The music ended and Jane leaned close to Darcy's ear, "I have to take a break. I'm starting to get all hot and sweaty."

Darcy laughed, "That's my cue to hand you over to the big guy."

Jane just bumped her shoulder and weaved her way over to Thor, kissing his smiling lips. They were so cute it made her want to vomit sometimes. While she theoretically wanted to find her own hot guy who she could do naughty things to whenever she wanted, she was still looking for someone who she wouldn't want to stab in the eye with a spork every time he opened his mouth. And there was the whole secret organization thing. Having to run a background check on prospective dates really puts a damper on one's social life.

Not that she was bitter or anything. She liked the fact that she was a part – granted, a very small part – of something important like S.H.I.E.L.D. Still, a girl needs more than Harlequin novels and batteries. And if she went home to an empty apartment that smelled like Loki, she might actually die of sexual frustration. It wasn't like she could do anything about it. She was currently single, she didn't do one-night stands, and knowing that Loki could be there watching as she double-clicked her mouse was a bit too kinky for her.

But only a bit. He scared her and pissed her off – but she still wanted to lick him. She was such a freak. She wondered if her government health plan covered therapy.

Both girls laughed as Thor offered them each an arm as they walked Darcy home. The night was cool and the air felt refreshing. By the time the schmaltzy duo left her at her apartment, Darcy's head felt clearer and her mind was made up. She would confront her phantom.

Closing the door behind her, she braced herself and spun around. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but she still felt anxious and pissed. And more than a little tipsy. Liquid courage bolstered her on. How dare he keep her on edge for days? Who the hell did he think he is? (The God of Mischief, her mind tried to tell her – she ignored it).

She looked around at the empty space, "Loki?"

She felt stupid, but if he wasn't there, then no one would ever know of her little breakdown.

"LOKI!"

"Yes?"

She spun around quickly and met the gaze of the man sitting nonchalantly on her couch. The nerve!

"What the hell do you think you've been doing?"

He just raised an eyebrow, "Pardon?"

"You've been…spying on me."

He smiled, "Have I?"

"No, you don't get to play that game. I was nice to you. I actually liked you. Hell, I think I even trusted you. And what the hell do you do? Stalk me like a weirdo creeper!"

He seemed unaffected, "I do believe you have issues with privacy. We will work on that."

Feeling her anger hit the boiling point, she nearly screamed at him, "Why are you doing this to me?"

He sighed, "Spying is a harsh word. As is stalking. I was merely observing you. You are a fascinating creature, Darcy Lewis."

"Well, you can observe my foot up your ass if you ever try that shit on me again. I'm serious."

He just smiled, looking amused by her anger.

She continued, liquor having that awful effect on her where she spoke truths she'd never admit sober, "If you want to be a creeper and stare at me all day – fine – just allow me the courtesy of staring back."

For the first time that night, Loki looked a little less poised, "So you would prefer to silently stare at each other all day? I did not realize I was so interesting to look at."

"You're hotter than the average stalker, so I would…yeah. And who knows? Maybe we could do that thing where one person asks questions and the other person answers and then they switch – conversation, I think it's called. We were doing pretty alright with it before. What happened?"

A thought occurred to Darcy, "Did I do something wrong? Are you mad at me? Cause I feel like you're punishing me for something and I don't know why."

Suddenly, Loki was in front of her. She stumbled backwards, her back smacking against the door somewhat painfully. Loki followed her and she found herself trapped between two immoveable objects.

She should be scared.

Now would be a very good time to get scared.

It would be highly appropriate for her to get scared.

So why wasn't she getting scared?

"You desire me, Darcy Lewis." The words were soft and she felt them drift into her ears, run down her spine, and settle somewhere just below her bellybutton.

"I…I don't know what you're talking about."

He smiled like the cat that just fucking devoured the canary. "Oh my lovely little girl, you are still such a bad liar."

He knew. Darcy realized that she shouldn't be surprised – the man knew everything. But she didn't understand why he was doing this to her. Was this a seduction scene or was he just playing with her? She wouldn't be surprised if he suddenly appeared on the other side of the room laughing at her for being such a stupid hormonal mortal, actually thinking she had a chance with him. That would suck.

Or maybe he was seducing her. But why? She certainly was nothing special – and Loki was many things, special just being one of the most innocuous ones. Shouldn't he be backing someone like Natasha into the door and boxing her in with his long arms and filling her nose with his fuckawesome scent?

He's using you, her mind supplied.

He was. She knew it. The problem was that she kinda didn't care.

No. No! She couldn't do this until she knew what he wanted. He was an expert chess player and she didn't want to be another one of his pawns. She slid underneath his arm and was vaguely surprised that he let her go. He simply turned around and rested his own back against the door, giving her an unreadable look.

"Second thoughts?"

She bit out a harsh laugh, "How do you even know I had first thoughts?"

He just raised his eyebrow and she suddenly knew without a doubt that he had read her mind. Well, she hoped he was reading it now because she was currently flipping him off in her head.

"Right. Ask a stupid question, huh?"

He smiled, "You are only human."

She blinked, "Yeah, and what the hell does that make you?"

His jaw clenched and his face lost its amusement, "A monster. You should not have ingratiated yourself into any aspect of my life. You should not have made me notice you. Silly little mortal."

While everything he said was probably true, she was sick and tired of the 'weakness of mortals' thing he had going on. Superiority complex, anyone? (He's a GOD her mind kept trying to tell her – she kept ignoring it).

"Yeah, well at least us silly little mortals know how to live."

His face found a smile again, "Oh really? Do explain."

"Well, you immortals think you're so special. If watching Buffy taught me one thing, it's that living forever is overrated. You don't respect something if you can't lose it – and you can't lose your life. Or at least not without some serious fucking effort. But mortals? Hell, I could fall in the street and bam, roadkill. So we know how to live, dude. And we fight and love and feel and create and all sorts of shit. Maybe we fuck up sometimes, but c'mon – you've made your own share of big mistakes. So don't get all judgmental on us silly little mortals. Gods in glass houses and all that."

He just raised a brow, "You are lecturing me? See what I told you – you are fascinating. You think mortals have more respect for life because their own is finite? That they see the beauty and potential in every day because it could be their last? Oh, I had almost forgotten how naïve you are. Somehow I find that one of your best qualities. Parts of you are so jaded, but others are as innocent as a child."

She wanted to smack his smug face and then lick away the sting, "I'm not a child. I wasn't the one who threw a hissy and almost destroyed the whole universe."

He was suddenly in front of her again - chest pressed tightly to hers - holding her by the back of the neck so that she had to look up into his face. He was so tall and he wasn't wearing that wicked armor, so she could feel the lines of his body against her own. She was in trouble.

His voice was a taunt and a promise and a plea, "I have made enough mistakes for a hundred men. More. But I have learned from them. And I know that mortals have their merits. I know you have merit. And I know you are not a child."

She trembled against him and hated herself for it, "Why are you doing this? Why me?"

He tilted his head and answered her in a voice that sounded more honest than she'd expected, "Because you want me and you are beautiful. And interesting. I know that I have informed you of the bad things that can happen when I become bored. And do you not think it wise to give me an incentive to be good?"

He leaned down toward her and whispered, "I would promise to be so good."

She wasn't sure if he meant that he'd be a good man or simply good in bed. She wasn't sure of anything. She couldn't think.

Run! Run! Don't look back!, her mind chimed in one last time. But he was leaning down and his lips were so close and she just wanted to see what he tasted like. So much. Even though she knew - she knew – that she would live to regret it.

His lips paused a hairsbreadth from her own, as if waiting for her to make the final move.

For some reason, she was reminded of the time when she dropped her keys down the grating in the sidewalk. They had fallen out of her purse and hung there, teetering on the little strip of metal. She had frozen, instinctively knowing that she wouldn't be able to grab them before they fell. Time had seemed to stand still and she watched, helpless, as those vitally important little bits of metal dropped into a rat-infested abyss.

Now she was reliving that moment all over again. Except this time she was the keys. Breathless and panicked and resigned, she was waiting for the inevitable. And there was nothing she could do to stop it. Gravity had taken hold of her and she was falling, falling - hard and fast - and in a blink she would be lost completely. And there was so much to lose. What she was doing was dangerous – he was dangerous. He was the bad guy, wasn't he? She didn't really trust that he wouldn't hurt her.

Because he could.

He could destroy her so easily, and not just by killing her outright. There were other ways to make a person suffer. But she just couldn't bring herself to care. Lust was a real bitch.

Breathless with resignation and excitement, she closed her eyes and leaned forward, closing the distance between their lips.

He tasted like providence. And freedom. And ruin.

She was so fucked.

She felt a mattress beneath her as he lowered her backwards and she didn't know or care how they'd ended up in her bedroom. Nor did she care that he was apparently able to just make all her clothes disappear – because he did the same thing to his own. Now that was a nifty party trick. As he gave her a smile, part-naughty and part-menacing, she let go of her reservations completely. While he kissed and licked his way down her body – so that's why they called him silver-tongued – she whimpered and moaned and couldn't fight her own naughty grin.

If this was what meeting your doom felt like, then she really didn't care. Fuck it.

His tongue dipped into her navel and her body gave an involuntary jerk. She could feel his answering smile against her heated flesh.

This was such a bad, bad idea.

But she just plunged her fingers into his inky hair and held on tight, knowing she was in for one hell of a ride.