Taryn's knees gave out as Loki vanished and she landed on the floor before the smoke had even cleared. "Oh God, I am in trouble," she whispered as she listened to her heart thumping and tried to catch her breath.

That was just–waking up like that just wasn't–it wasn't fair. How the hell was she supposed to resist him when he did things like that? It was cheating, using those memories from that other life so that he knew, knew exactly where to touch and how to kiss her to make her body turn traitor. And that voice, damnfuckinghell, that voice should be illegal, deep and rich like some forbidden dark spice, purring along her nerves as his lips traced the curves and dips of her ear. No, that absolutely was not fair.

Especially given the things he said in that smooth-as-silk voice. I want you to make me beg, and I will beg, I will beg for you… she shivered from head to toe just at the memory.

Not. Bloody. Fair.

She'd just had the full, focused, and very erotic attention of the Seducer of Asgard. Taryn was shocked that her skin wasn't smoldering from the experience.

It terrified her that he could so easily command such an overwhelming response from her. Damn it all, she knew better than this! He was a criminal, he was insane, he was a ridiculously powerful god who planned to take over her world and run it like a callous child would run an ant farm. And like that child, Loki seemed likely to bring out the magnifying glass and fry a few ants if he got bored.

There was no way she could do what he wanted, stand beside him and be his queen. She was an American–she believed in freedom, in choice. She didn't believe in mind-control and slavery and subjugation.

But her body, oh, it didn't give a good goddamn about any of that. Her body was an instrument that Loki had played like a maestro. All her body wanted was to sing in his arms again.

And having his memories, even with their raw emotion blunted, didn't help at all. Feeling that other Loki's emotions for her, the depth of his love and devotion, was overwhelming despite the containment spell. That Loki had truly loved his Taryn. He'd all but worshiped her. And his joy and wonder at having his love returned didn't fade over the centuries they spent together. No, he'd lived for her, and for their child, and counted himself the most blessed creature to ever live for knowing such happiness. If this Loki was anything like the one in her memories, Taryn would do just as her other self had done–leave everything behind just to be with him.

But this Loki was different. He was hard, and bitter, and although she'd witnessed a moment of weakness (if indeed it had been genuine–he was such a talented liar that she couldn't help but wonder), Taryn had yet to see an instant of softness about him. His abuse had been worse in this life and the scars left by it deeper and more crippling. When this Loki had fallen into Chaos, he hadn't had the anchor of love and untarnished friendship to hold onto that the other Loki had. And without that anchor to give him the strength to master it, Chaos had ensnared him, tormented him, and finally spat him broken to the Chitauri.

Taryn ran shaking hands over her face. He wanted her to save him, to bring him happiness and love, but she couldn't imagine any part of this Loki that could see love as anything but weakness. He didn't want her love, not truly, no matter what he thought–he wanted her subservience. He wanted her obedience, and her physical affection and sex, but he would not welcome the open, unjudging sharing that came with genuine love between equals. To this Loki, Taryn–mortal, weaker, less brutally intelligent–could never be his equal.

So she wasn't surprised when he'd declared that he didn't love her, not really. This Loki had never experienced love. He would have no idea how to give it, or even recognize it if he did feel it. His first experience with sex had been horrible, and instead of finding the comfort of family afterward, he'd been mocked viciously. The Seducer of Asgard, they'd called him through their laughter and jeers, and he'd held his head high and turned that mocking title into a blade as one by one, he seduced the wives of each and every one of his tormentors. He tore families apart and laughed as his conquests mourned in the aftermath of their infidelity. After a start like that, was it any wonder that he viewed seduction and sex as a weapon, and love as a weakness?

But Taryn couldn't live that way. She'd loved and been loved, and she wouldn't settle for anything less even from a god. He would never give that to her. No, this Loki… he would demand everything she had to give, and he would give nothing back.

Maybe he wouldn't intend it, but this Loki would destroy her.

Taryn finally managed to get back to her feet and crossed to the wardrobe to blindly grab for clothing. She ducked into the bathroom, still trembling–she wanted a shower, but even the few moments it took to discard her pajamas and pull on her clothing left her feeling exposed and watched. Trying to ignore it didn't help, nor did repeating to herself that Loki had promised she would have her privacy, so she got dressed again as quickly as she could just in case that had been another of his carefully worded promises that meant less than she'd first thought.

When she emerged from the bathroom, another trio of silver domes awaited on her table. She stared at them for a moment–she'd been listening hard and hadn't heard anyone come in. Had Loki done his little "poof" trick to bring her breakfast? She didn't like that someone had entered without her knowledge, but she did want breakfast. In the end she decided just to eat and decide later whether or not to complain to Loki about it.

She hadn't even made it halfway through the omelet when Loki reappeared before her in another little flash of green light. Taryn gasped, nearly choked, and spluttered, "What the hell are you doing here?" in as furious a tone as she could manage while coughing this hard.

Loki raised an eyebrow. "Did you not invite me in?"

Taryn took a gulp of orange juice–the acidic juice did little to soothe her burning throat and sent her into another coughing spasm. "Once!" she snapped when she could speak again, rubbing her chest to ease the tightness. "It wasn't a standing invitation!"

"Ah." He shrugged, unconcerned. "You weren't specific. I assumed."

Of course. Of course the Liesmith, master of carefully worded promises and lies, could twist her one moment of pity into permission to come and go as he pleased. Taryn closed her eyes, now rubbing her forehead instead where a nasty headache was forming. "Of course you did," she sighed, giving up. She was a captive, after all. She had only whatever rights he gave her. Clearly privacy wasn't one of them. "What do you want?"

"I will be leaving you for a short time."

That got her attention. Taryn's head jerked up and she belatedly realized that he was in some kind of elaborate armor: gold-plated and richly embossed breastplate, greaves, gauntlets and pauldrons–even a long sweeping emerald cape and a helmet with massive curling horns. Both should have looked ridiculous but his brutal aura turned them into intimidating status symbols. "Leaving?" she echoed.

Loki smiled and nodded. "Selvig's little project is complete. It is time for the next phase of my plan to begin. I must be captured briefly, but do not fret. They have no real way of holding me. I will escape when the time is right."

Taryn didn't care much about his plan, but the thought that he might be captured definitely caught her interest. "Since you're going to be busy, how about letting me go home?" she asked. If he released her, maybe she could somehow warn the authorities that he was allowing himself to be taken into custody. Maybe they could guard him better, prevent his escape from happening and prevent the invasion.

His smile turned a little sharper. "Thinking of warning my adversaries, are we?"

Taryn raised her chin a little. "I kind of like the world as it is," she said. "I don't think humanity has the temperament for one supreme ruler."

"As they are now, you are indeed correct," Loki agreed, and he lifted the scepter she hadn't seen since he'd taken her from her classroom–it felt an eternity ago. "But I shall assist them to change their ways. Dr. Selvig will be brilliantly useful on that project as well. He has quite a fascinating mind."

"He probably did before you scrambled it."

Loki chuckled. "I cleared his mind, lovely girl. But I have no time to rehash that particular argument with you. I have an appointment to keep." He gestured at her door–it swung open to show a tall, intimidating, Arabic-looking man standing there in full body armor and cradling an AK-47 like it was his child. "This is Hassan," Loki said. "He is head of my personal security detail. His skills are surpassed only by Barton's, but I'm afraid I will require that worthy fellow to accompany me. Hassan, however, will remain here with a large force of his best men to guard you."

Fear clutched Taryn's throat. "Should I expect company?" she managed, staring at Hassan's blue-glazed eyes and the comfortable, competent way he held that ugly weapon.

"It's always a possibility," Loki replied easily. "But it is not one I expect. I am leaving a priceless treasure here. Naturally, it will be guarded accordingly, and not merely by guns and steel." He stepped forward and gently laid his hand over hers, which was all but strangling her fork. "You will be safe here until I return."

"Let me go," Taryn whispered, staring at the engravings on his breastplate rather than meeting his eyes. "I can't be what you need. Please, let me go."

Loki bent and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. "I never will," he murmured against her skin, and her heart sank as he straightened once more. Now he looked at Hassan and his entire manner changed, chilled. "I give you only one command: protect this woman with your life or pay for your failure with the same," Loki ordered, and his voice wasn't hard or cold as she would've expected. The order was given in a soft tone that somehow threatened horrors much more effectively than any shouting ever could have.

Hassan bowed. "She will come to no harm on my watch, Lord," he replied.

"If she does," Loki replied, silky smooth, "you will pray for death before I grant it." Then he gazed down at Taryn once more. "Until we meet again, darling," he said, and vanished.