A/N: So the next Thor film title has been released: Thor 2: The Dark World. Eh. Not that inspiring, but hopefully the film will be amazing :)
For those of you wondering: the Avengers will certainly appear in this story, don't you worry.
Now, who wants more of our deliciously dark trickster?
"That's it, darling. Yes. On your knees. Good."
She looked up at him upon that throne from where she sat, and his hand curved around her cheek. He was smiling, and the smile she gave in return was beatific. She was dressed in soft silver, her feet bare, and jewellery adorned her neck and wrists. His thumb stroked her skin, and when he spoke, his voice was gentle.
"And how is my little mortal?"
"Well enough, my lord," she answered. His eyes gleamed at that, and he gestured.
"Come. Sit."
She straddled him, and he kissed her, his hands holding her hips, caressing her curves. She arched up against him, and his hands moved to the front of her dress. The rip was loud in the silence of the hall, and she gasped, breaking the kiss to clutch at the tear, holding the material together. He raised an eyebrow, before effortlessly prising her hands away, much to her horror.
"No, Eva."
"We are not alone," she whispered, eyes wide with mortification. "There are guards here."
"Ah, they do not matter," he murmured. "Now come."
"No. Not here."
"Do not defy your King." His eyes darkened, but his voice was low, melting. "Come. Let me taste you."
His fingers delved beneath her dress, and her eyes widened as they sought their prize, a low cry falling from her lips as he teased and toyed –
Eva awoke with a gasp, and she found, to her shame, that her nub was throbbing. When she tentatively touched between her thighs, her fingers came away wet. She groaned, and rolled over. She wanted relief, but to know that Loki would be the one in her mind stopped her dead. There was no way in hell she would pleasure herself when thinking of him.
Sighing, she got up, glancing at the clock. Eight in the morning. No breakfast tray had been delivered, and for that she was grateful. She did not like having everything done for her; she intended to go out and buy something.
But then she remembered: no money. She was, essentially, a kept woman. Loki's woman. Her skin crawled. She had no freedom at all. Was that what he meant, when he said it was a falsehood?
She showered and dressed quickly. No smart dresses; Eva wore tight blue jeans and a black blouse, rolling up the sleeves. She left the suite, and wandered down the corridor, her black leather boots annoyingly loud on the tiled floor. She approached the nearest guard, who watched her curiously. She smiled.
"Could you direct me to the kitchens, please?"
He blinked, but nodded. "Certainly, ma'am." He told her the route, and she thanked him, before heading to the nearest elevator.
It wasn't long before she reached the kitchens, and the staff started in surprise, before frowning.
"Can I help you?" one of them, a tall, red-haired man asked.
"I was wondering if I could make myself some breakfast, if it's not inconvenient?"
Disbelief painted more than a few faces, but there were some expressions which showed recognition at seeing her in the doorway.
"And who are you, exactly?" the same man asked, raising an eyebrow.
"That's enough, Daniel. She's the King's lady," a woman declared sharply. "Don't you know that?"
The eyes of the man named Daniel widened, as did a fair few other pairs. Eva looked embarrassed, and she raised a hand, trying to placate them.
"Please. I'm not. He just finds me mildly amusing, that's all. I assure you I'm not his lady."
"Really? Because that's what you're known as around here," another woman said frankly, though her tone implied that 'lady' meant something quite different. Eva flushed, looking uneasy, and the first woman spoke up again.
"Leave her be. Come here, ma'am."
Grateful, Eva approached her, and the woman smiled gently.
"Now, what're you hungry for?"
"Just some fruit and cream, and a cup of tea," Eva said quietly, well-aware that every person in the room was watching her. The woman gestured to various refrigerators and cupboards.
"Well, help yourself. Plates are in there, cutlery in there. Have what you want."
"Thank you," Eva said with a smile. She busied herself with getting what she needed, and then sat at the table to eat. She was slicing an apple when one of the chefs turned up the TV, and the sound blared.
"… yesterday in Paris, the King was seen with a young woman emerging from a car and boarding a private jet. How she is acquainted with His Grace is as yet unknown, but she is believed to be Eva Manning, twenty-five years old and hailing from England…"
Eva froze, and she paled. They know. The whole world knows.
Just like he wanted. I know it. The bastard.
"Eric, turn that damn thing off," the first woman snapped. The TV was silenced, and the woman came over to Eva. "Honey, are you okay?"
Eva ran a hand through her hair, sighing. "I will be. I'm sorry, I didn't get your name…?"
"Eunice," the woman replied, her brown eyes warm. "But that doesn't matter. You sure you'll be alright?"
Eva exhaled. "I hope so. At least my family will know I'm okay."
There was silence at that, and she realised just how much she'd given away. She bit her lip, and Eunice gently touched her shoulder.
"I'm sure. Now why don't you finish your breakfast, honey? You'll feel better."
Eva did, and the tea soothed her, calmed her initial panic. The raspberries tasted sweet on her tongue, mingled with the coolness of the cream. She ate quietly as the staff went about their business, though Eunice sat with her, talking and joking. Eva found she liked the woman, with her easy-going manner which immediately alleviated Eva's anxiety.
Someone turned on the radio, and a song sounded which everyone immediately recognised, and smiles emerged as well as tapping feet. Two of the chefs started jiving, and Eva watched, laughing and clapping, sitting on the table, pulling Eunice up to sit with her. The staff were dancing in seconds, all work abandoned, and one of them, a dark-curly-haired man with sparkling grey eyes held out a hand to Eva. She took it, grinning, and they began to dance, fast-paced, lively. She couldn't stop beaming as they stepped and jumped; she hadn't felt so free in months, not since Loki's victory. And even though the Norse god was mere floors above her, this felt like a completely different world.
"Damn, she can dance!" someone shouted gleefully, and Eva laughed, spinning round and round, faster and faster –
She slammed straight into a hard, muscled chest.
The silence was immediate. She glanced up, and Loki raised an eyebrow.
"Having fun?"
"Yes. A concept you cannot comprehend, I am sure," she hit back, well aware the two of them had an audience. His eyes glittered, and she felt his fingers clasp her waist. She tensed. "Loki. No."
He chuckled, the sound slithering along her spine, raising hairs, sending electricity through her.
"You cannot defy me, Eva. You know what will happen if you do."
"He is but a child." Her voice was icy as she stared resolutely at him. "You harm even a hair on his head, and there will be hell to pay, I promise you that."
"And what would you do, hm? Stab me?" He laughed, a cruel, mocking shadow of humour. "You know what happened the last time you had a knife upon your person. You could not even draw it before I had broken it in two."
She glanced away, and his other hand tilted her chin.
"Look at me, lítteinn."
"I will not."
"Look at me."
Hating herself, she turned her eyes to his, and the intensity of his gaze stunned her. His hand curved from her chin to her cheek, and suddenly they were no longer in the kitchens, but in a large, sunlit gallery, and she frowned.
"What are we –"
"Hush." His leg slipped between hers, and his foot slid hers across the floor. She recognised the move instantly, and her eyes snapped to his, her cheeks pinking.
Argentine tango. Born out of the purlieus of Buenos Aires.
"You can't. You don't know the steps."
"Don't I?" he said with a smile, and pulled her to him. Her hands immediately went to his chest, one sliding downwards, and another lifted as if to touch his face, before her head turned away. It was smooth, easy, and he released her, pushing her from him. She strode away, before he grasped her wrist, spinning her back against him. Her spine was flush to his body, and his lips were at her throat. She gasped, and her hand reached back to cup his cheek, eyes fluttering closed.
This was not fair play - but then, Loki hardly ever played fair. He knew Eva was so easily seduced by dance, and the tango was the most seductive routine in the world. His fingers skimmed her waist, and she slid to the floor. His strong hands curved around her wrists, and he pulled her up, turning her in one swift movement so she faced him.
And so it began. Back and forth across the gallery, turning and walking and gliding and touching. It felt as though a thousand fires were burning up within her, and she could not pull away from his gaze. It was a dance of passion, but even this was different to any other tango she had practised. He was elegant, but dominant. If she walked away, he would pursue her, with a caress of her skin, a kiss to her pulse, a tightening on her wrist. Drawing her knee up to his hip, his hand lighting flames in her thigh. A skimming of her spine, a grazing of teeth against the skin of her collarbone. Letting her know precisely who was the master. Even as she turned her gaze from him, his hands and sleek, graceful movements would ensure her eyes always returned to his.
"Why?" she managed to gasp. He did not laugh, his expression was far too heated for that.
"Because, Eva… dance reaches you far more easily than any other method," he replied, his voice compelling as he lifted her effortlessly, before lowering her to the floor and pressing his mouth to the hollow below her ear. "It teases you… tantalises you… draws you in. Ruthlessly, relentlessly. And you are instantly enticed by it. You cannot break away."
They were still moving, his hands on her hips, his mouth claiming her throat. Her own hands were on his, keeping them there, an action which inwardly shocked her, yet she did not want to remove them. It felt… good.
That woke her up, and her eyes widened. It was then he spun her around and claimed her lips with his, a deep, long, consuming kiss that left her head whirling. He broke away with a lazy smile, and his fingers brushed her cheek.
"And it was so easy, too."
He strode away, leaving her stunned, aroused and prickling with a newborn fury.
"I will never submit to you!" she half-shouted. His reply was a triumphant laugh, and a dry tone.
"Ah, but you already have. Did you like the dream, my dear?"
Outraged, she could do nothing but watch after him as he went, and as soon as the doors had shut behind him, she exhaled, and her fingers flexed. God, but he was skilled. The bastard. He knew exactly which keys to play, which strings to pull.
And she hated him all the more for it.
It had been days since they had danced. Loki had been called away on business, about forming the new government of Russia – or possibly, it was rumoured, to discuss plans about splitting the admittedly huge country into two, to make it more manageable. He had not returned to New York for days, and she was left alone. Thankfully, the kitchen staff were amiable, and she no longer felt quite so isolated. She was free to explore the residence - and explore she did. Corridors, halls, chambers. But it wasn't long before boredom crept in. She loathed being trapped, and, pushing away the voice that told her it was a very bad idea, she stepped out of the Chrysler building and began to walk.
She made it three streets before the press swarmed, and she simply walked back, fighting the urge to scream at them to leave her alone, to rip those goddamn cameras out of their hands. The guards ushered her inside the building, and she made it to the elevators before slumping against a wall, closing her eyes and exhaling.
"My lady?"
"I'm alright," she told the guard, her eyes still shut. "But at least I can sympathise with celebrities." She laughed mirthlessly. "Is the King still in Russia?"
It was a pointless question, and the both of them knew it.
"I believe so, my lady."
"Thank you."
"Are you sure I can't help you, ma'am?"
She opened her eyes, and she smiled tiredly at the tanned, handsome face before her, before shaking her head.
"No, but thank you." She pushed away from the wall, running a hand through her hair. She gave the guard another small smile before entering the elevator. As soon as she reached her suite, she collapsed on her bed, curling up. Her fingers clutched a pillow, and closed on a slip of paper.
Lesson learned?
She let out a cry of rage and crumpled the note up, hurling it to the floor.
Eight hours ahead and four and a half thousand miles away, Loki smiled. The girl's appearance in New York City had, predictably, hit international status. Every news channel was running the story. And it had been confirmed: she was indeed Eva Manning, twenty-five years-old, and British-born. English father, German mother. One younger brother.
Ah, Aidan. The little one. So innocent, so naïve. It was almost sickening. Loki hadn't met such purity in centuries.
What fun it would be to toy with the boy. After all, mind games were Loki's forte. And Aidan's consciousness was a clean slate.
If the press didn't break her, the manipulation of her brother's mind would.
"But Your Grace," a councillor protested, drawing Loki from his reverie, "to split Russia would mean that –"
"We're done." Loki's voice rang clear throughout the chamber, his eyes burning. "Your country will be split into two nations, the West and the East. Moscow and Vladivostok will be the capitals. I do believe the border has already been set, has it not? It will run directly through the Siberian Federal District."
There were murmurs of acquiescence, though they were uneasy, and Loki raised an eyebrow.
"Come, come, gentlemen. Your country is crumbling. Will you not let me raise it to be the glorious nation it once was?"
With that, Loki swept from the chamber, his mind returning to the mortal currently in the Chrysler. A much more pleasing train of thought. Spending days in Russia hammering out plans and agreements for the country with little amusement had grated on his consciousness. The government had been typically obtuse, and he was relieved that soon it would be dissolved and two new ones formed – with men of a higher intelligence and a better calibre. Russia had very clear class divides, and despite coming from a royal background, the sheer opulence of the wealthiest had not charmed him – the economy would have to be stabilised, and the people given equal opportunity in order for the two nations to truly flourish.
And flourish they will.
As he made his way along the corridor, he briefly considered sating himself with a whore. But Eva's earlier remarks lingered in his mind, and his dark smile returned.
No, it wasn't a whore he wanted.
It was her.
"We are finished here," he informed the Russian ambassador as he met him at the doors. "I will return to New York. Should any… issues arise, inform me immediately."
"Very good, sir," the ambassador replied, before bowing and departing.
Loki wasted no time in appearing exactly where he desired to – planes and paparazzi were not required now. He glanced at the nearest guard, who instantly came to attention. Loki's eyes gleamed faintly with mirth.
"Fetch Ms Manning for me. Bring her to my chambers."
The guard nodded, bowed and went on his way. Loki laughed softly, and entered his quarters. His suit shimmered and altered into his Asgardian robes, and he conjured a glass of his preferred vintage, taking a sip and seating himself in a large leather armchair, glancing out of the windows at the city.
"I will not be summoned like some pet," came the familiar tone from the doorway, the disdain like a drug to him. "Were it not for the fact that I knew you'd kill the guard if I refused, I would not have come."
He smiled, a note of amusement sounding, and he drained his glass, setting it down on the table and turning his head to view her.
"Ah, but you missed me. You were bored enough – and foolish enough, I might add – to venture out without security or a vehicle. What madness drove you to that, I wonder?"
"I went stir-crazy. I needed to get out. I couldn't stay in this building forever."
"That was quite obvious." He rose to his feet, fluid as always, and beckoned as he walked away from her. "Come. I wish to show you something."
"My, has something on this earth impressed you? Could it be true?"
"Are you always this acerbic, Eva?"
"Would you want me to be anything else?"
His chuckle was silken.
"Oh, I think you know the answer to that, my dear."
He disappeared through the doors. Reluctantly she followed him – out onto the edges of the building. She froze, swallowing at the height as her limbs locked, and she glanced out rather than down. His hand curved around her waist, securing her to him.
"Frightened, my dear?"
"Why are we out here, Loki?"
"I want you to look. Out at the city. Look at it. It thrives."
She could not deny the truth of that. But then New York always has.
"Your point?"
"It is at peace, even as it prospers. Your world is at peace."
She turned her head to look at him, incredulous. "At peace? Are you serious? It's not peace! It's fear! Goddamn fear! They're terrified that if they stand up to you they'll die! Everyone knows how barbaric the Chitauri are. How many innocent children's deaths do you have on your hands, Loki? How many?"
His eyebrow lifted.
"You believe I would harm little ones?"
"You have no issues with harming my brother, so I'm inclined to think you would," she hit back coldly. Loki's lips twitched.
"Children are the future. Why would I destroy them?"
"Because you're a sadistic bastard who says, and I quote, 'I do as I want'. Do you even have limits?"
He suddenly spun her around, slamming her up against the wall of the building, and she gasped as his hand pressed against her back, the other securing her wrists behind her in a single grip.
"I would be very careful how you speak to me, if I were you," he said in her ear. "You are too familiar. Have a care, Eva."
"You're the one that intends to fuck me. You can hardly accuse me of being 'familiar'," she spat, wincing as her wrists were pulled just that bit too tightly, making her arms scream in pain. His mouth closed on her throat, and she cried out as he kissed and sucked the skin, his teeth grazing the flesh. Her gasps very quickly turned into a traitorous moan, and he chuckled.
"Look at you. So pliable. But I am not going to have you now. Oh, no. No, I'm going to make you wait. Wait until you are begging for my touch, pleading for my caress, my lips upon every inch of your skin."
His words sent a flicker of heat to her belly, and she swore. His fingers left her back only to trail down her spine, causing her to arch up.
"Never," she hissed, biting her lip to stop any more noises of protest.
Whether they were for him to stop or continue, she wasn't sure.
He released her wrists and turned her to face him. She knew her cheeks were flushed, her eyes too intense, and without warning he kissed her, caging her in with his arms, hands flat against the wall.
Instantly, her fingers tugged on his robes, her eyes closing as his lips sought dominance, declared it. She could feel her knees weakening, and without a word he lifted her easily, her legs tangling around his hips. He walked back into his chambers, and simply let her drop into an armchair, moving away. She inhaled at the fall, and stared at him in disbelief as she tried to sit up properly, running a hand through her hair.
"So human," he laughed, drinking in her dazed and dishevelled state. "So easily ruled by your emotions."
"And you're not? You tried to destroy a whole realm in your anger, from what I've heard."
His hand closed on her throat before that action even registered in her brain, and he raised her up like a ragdoll, bringing her to his eye level. His gaze was piercing, icy, sending chills down her spine as her mind fought to stay calm.
"Must you always be so belligerent?" His voice was a soft, lilting thing, and his thumb pressed into the flesh of her neck. "It will not end well for you if you continue to bait me."
"I'm going to die anyway, so I might as well get all the thrill I can out of it," she replied, a low rasping retort as his fingers flexed around her throat. He scoffed and released her. She collapsed in the armchair, gasping, rubbing her neck, swallowing.
"I said I would break you. I never said I would kill you, Eva."
"No. But one day you'll go too far, and then all you'll have left is a corpse," she whispered, coughing. "Another to add to your daily growing list of fatalities. What then? Would you tell my family? My brother? Tell him that his big sister is never coming home? Could you bear that, cold as you are? Telling a child that the one he looks up to is gone? Could you?"
He turned to face her, and he strode forwards to take her chin in his hand.
"Your brother will realise that I am good for this world. That I will save it. I have not threatened him, nor frightened him. His innocence is still intact."
Her eyes narrowed.
"You would not dare."
"Try me."
"He would never believe you!" she hissed. "Not when his parents –"
"Are dead. They perished in that war."
"He has a mother and father!"
"No, Eva. They are not his parents, no more than Odin and Frigga are mine."
"Is this is how you'll hurt me?" Her voice was abruptly quiet. "By manipulating him?"
Loki's hand brushed her face, thumb tracing her lips. The look in his eyes was almost gentle.
And it terrified her more than his rage or malice ever could.
"That would be telling, lítteinn."
His gaze lingered upon her for a moment longer, and then he straightened, turning his head to look out at the expanse of civilisation outside the building.
"Of course, I could bring him here whenever I wished. But you see, I'm not inclined to reunite the two of you just yet. No. Timing is crucial." He glanced back at her. "And it is not now."
He vanished.
A/N: He really is quite ruthless, isn't he?
Lightning xoxo