A/N: Life happened. As it always does. Sigh.

Anyway, I shall let you get on. As a heads up, I will have no internet Tuesday to Thursday next week, so unfortunately no update then. Boo D:

Eva stirred amongst the sheets, blindly uncurling her limbs and stretching her body out. The bed-linen smelt… different. Not like hers. There was a faint scent of masculinity –

Her eyes shot open, and colour flooded her cheeks.

Oh, fuck.

Loki's bed.

The memories surged through her mind, and she bit back a groan. Last night had been a mistake, surely. Never mind that it had relieved… tensions. It had been – quite literally – sleeping with the enemy.

Eva, you fool. You played right into his hands. He knew it was going to happen, he'd been planning it. And you fell straight into the trap.

She sat up, glancing around her. The four poster's curtains were drawn; she was in near darkness, save for the slivers of sunlight that pervaded through various gaps. And she was alone. Naked, too, and that she cursed to high heaven. She did not even dare try to find the remains of her clothes – and it wasn't like she was craving to wear Loki's shirt, either.

Ugh.

Yet more recollections flitted through her of the night before, and she did groan this time, not in longing but in exasperation. No wonder she was so goddamn sore. She could feel the bruises all over her body, and she knew her lips were swollen from where he had kissed and bitten them. And the worst thing – the very thing she hated to admit to herself – was that she knew he was good in bed. She'd never been so satisfied, even though she detested the god. Beneath the layers of loathing and violence, there had been gratification. On both sides. She'd felt his climax mingle with her own, heard his hoarse groan, heard her own desperate cry. Much as she might detest him, there was a faint sense of pride that she was able to make him come undone in such a way.

Of course, once she'd realised that, she'd pushed that feeling away, instantly rejected it. Their coupling had been an impulse, and it would not happen again, no matter how good it had felt (and it was at least a ten out of ten).

She returned her focus to her current clothes-less predicament, and pulled a face. The only thing she could find to wrap around herself was the sheet. Oh, how cliché. And it's never realistic, even in movies. The sheet itself was far too big, and she couldn't even tug it out. Groaning, she fell back on the bed, and her hand smacked against a pillow which crackled. She turned her head to see a note which had definitely not been there before, and she unfolded it, her eyes scanning the cursive script as she held it close to a ray of sunlight.

Good morning. I do hope you slept well. You need not worry about clothes, my dear; there are some of yours upon the chair. I had them brought here this morning for you. I apologise for my absence, but being a King does require that I rise early, even after decadent evenings. Oh, and you may want to peruse the newspapers this morning for a surprise.

No sooner had she read those words than she shot out of bed to search for the newspapers, hurriedly pulling on a green silk robe she found hanging upon the chair on top of her other clothes. A 'surprise' where Loki was concerned was probably something highly horrific, and almost certainly unpleasant. Thankfully, she did not have to search far for the newspapers; there was a stack of them in the lounge, where her breakfast was also situated. She sat at the table, and unfolded the first one.

"Holy shit," she whispered, her heart simultaneously leaping and sinking as she read the headline emblazoned in bold across the front page.

LADY OF MIDGARD TO TEACH AT BRITISH UNIVERSITY

"Loki, you bastard…" She read through the article, and her eyes grew steadily wider. "What in god's name have you done?"

"Given you the chance to do as you'd like, I believe," came his coolly amused tones from the chair opposite. "You'll teach tomorrow. For a day, before we move to Geneva to discuss business there."

She flipped the top of the newspaper over to look at him in sheer disbelief.

"Tomorrow? But I have no lesson plan, no way of forming one, and – England? Seriously?" She couldn't hide the hunger in her tone. England. Home.

Loki languidly stirred his espresso.

"I will assume you know of the university also."

She reread the article – and she swallowed as she noted the very obvious detail which she had completely skipped over beforehand.

"University College London. One of the best in its field. My school."

He inclined his head, setting the small spoon on the table.

"Students from other universities who are reading similar courses – and students from your institution who have a proved interest in the subject – are being allowed to attend, if they can arrive in time," he continued idly, and her eyes widened a little.

"You mean I'm teaching at the university I attended for all three of my degrees, with students that might even come from Cambridge?"

"Yes."

"It's eleven in the morning. How did you arrange all this so quickly? I only told you last night!"

He smiled drily, taking a sip of his coffee. "King, my dear. I can arrange anything how and whenever I like. And no-one can refuse me. But status aside, they seemed quite happy for you to teach. I do believe the phrase 'gifted student' arose. And they were not even being sycophantic towards me in that respect. They truly meant it."

She blushed.

"You also declined a position at that university after we had first encountered each other… why?"

She looked at him, the blush fading.

"I didn't want to make it easy for you. Lecturer at a prestigious university? Easy for you. But a librarian in a small town? Hardly conspicuous."

He laughed. "Oh, Eva. I never lost sight of you once. I knew exactly where you were. Your job would have made no difference." His smile was malicious. "Did you really think I would let you slip into obscurity?"

"Foolish thought, I'll admit. But I lived in hope." She drank a little tea, relishing the heat of the liquid.

In the midst of their conversation, she hadn't noticed that her robe had opened a little and revealed the curve of her breasts to him, something he had not missed in the least. She did look ravishing, he mused. Tousled curls, cerise lips, pale skin, and a figure that any man would lust after.

"I told the department that you will be lecturing on mythology," he said calmly. She raised an eyebrow, unamused.

"Oh yes, pick the one that's bound to cause problems," she remarked exasperatedly. "Very clever. All I'll get are questions on you. And I refuse to do that. I'm not some celebrity media source on 'King Loki'. No goddamn way."

"Then you keep your students in line," he replied steadily. "A good teacher should be able to do so. Besides, your pupils will actually know what you are lecturing on. There will not be people attending for the sake of setting eyes upon the King's lady, you have my word on that."

"Your word means absolutely nothing, Liesmith," she said coldly, standing. The robe parted then, and Loki's eyes travelled up her exposed skin. She felt a blush stain her cheeks, and he laughed softly.

"So shy? You were quite the brazen one last night, if I recall correctly." His eyes glittered, and outrage crossed her countenance, along with a flicker of barely concealed desire.

"That will not happen again," she said quietly. He smiled.

"Back to denial, are we? I thought progress had been made, especially with last night as evidence."

"The bruises are spectacular, by the way," she said sarcastically. His smile widened, and he gestured.

"Show me."

"Oh, no. No, no, no. You are not seeing this body again. Once is enough." She turned away from him. "Don't you have something political to deal with? Mutinous French, the two Russias?"

"Not today," he murmured, suddenly behind her. She purposely held the robe tighter, determined not to let him view her, not like he had the previous night. He chuckled, and his hand tangled in her curls.

"Let. Go." Her voice was icy, and she tensed as she felt his hand on her hip, peeling back the robe. She tried to slap his hand back, but in doing so the robe opened wider, and she gasped as his hand stole down her waist to cup her. His thumb pressed mercilessly against her nub, and she let out a soft moan, hating how traitorously her body was acting.

"No," she groaned. "Stop. Please. Stop."

"Ah, but you do not mean that, lítteinn," he purred. "You know your words are weak in will."

In a second he had slammed her up against the shower wall, and it took her a moment to realise exactly where she was, before she felt hot water cascading over her naked body, and a mouth tasting her skin, fingertips pressing into her hips. He spun her, and his lips sought hers, claiming authority. She instantly responded, though her actions were as vehement as his were dominant, fighting him even as their lips met and bodies joined in a frenzy of need. There was no affection in their couplings, no love or gentleness. It was all physical passion, violent emotion. Bites, growls, raking of nails. And she hated how she had cried aloud for him amidst the rushing of the water. It hadn't been his name – thank god – but it had been enough to make him laugh and then simply pin her wrists to the tiled wall with his hands as he took her over and over.

Later would find the two of them sat at opposite ends of the large shower, eyeing each other, a faint smile upon his face, utter loathing upon hers. She wanted to slap the satisfaction off his countenance, but she knew he'd probably enjoy it, if their interactions were anything to go by. She simply watched him, her blue eyes accusatory. Your fault, they seemed to say. Bastard.

"That was certainly much easier than the previous encounter," he remarked dryly, his eyes glinting. She rolled her eyes, though her thighs were aching and her body still trembled a little with aftershocks.

"A lapse in judgement. It is morning, after all, I was hardly coherent."

He smirked, raising a brow. "I do believe it is almost afternoon, actually. And you were 'coherent' enough to act in quite a rough manner towards me not five minutes ago. It is no use feigning your attitude, Eva, not anymore. I know I satisfy you, and you know you will come to me. A woman like you thrives on instinct, on natural drive. Sex is your innate drug, if you will."

Her eyebrows shot into her hairline.

"You are saying I'm addicted."

He chuckled. "No. You cannot be, since you had no significant other in the months after my victory. You had no-one to warm your bed."

Her cheeks were splashed with shocked scarlet. "How dare you! Do you have any idea how disturbing it is that you know that?"

The slow curve of his mouth was languid. "Your world is so conservative. I was going to state that you thrive on the passion it brings. You will always crave more when you have a partner. When you are without, you do not feel the need as often. Yet with someone… you become the earthy, brazen woman that is part of you. Why else would you have succumbed just now? You wanted it, wanted what I could give you. And that is pleasure, however violent it may be. Accept it, Eva. I am able to unleash that side of you far better than any fumbling mortal man. And you will always return for more."

"Fine. I am a sexual being, I will concede to that," she said calmly, though her cheeks were still stained crimson. "But it is incredibly arrogant for you to assume that you are the best I've ever had."

"Aren't I?" His smile was lazy, amused.

"No, you're not." The lie fell effortlessly, but, Loki being Loki, it was easily detected, and he laughed softly.

"Try again."

She exhaled. "Damn you to Hel, Loki."

"Ah, come now. Where is the lashing tongue I know? Have you given up already, my dear?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Lashing tongues rarely work on snakes."

He grinned. "I see. But do silver tongues work on lionesses?"

The look she gave him, against her better judgement, was akin to a smoulder.

"Only when strategically placed."

His eyebrows rose, and she got to her feet, leaving the shower and wrapping a towel around her body, satisfied at the silence that followed.

The lecture hall was packed. Literally. She'd never seen so many students in one room. They were all talking, and nearly all glancing at her as she set up at the front. She wasn't dressed in a suit, no, too formal. Much to Loki's distaste, she had chosen to wear jeans; certainly, she liked to make a good impression, but she preferred enthusiasm to do that than focusing on whether she had a crease in her skirt or not. She sighed. Admittedly, she was nervous. But she was also excited. Loki or not, she was teaching. Something she'd longed to do for years. And here she was, doing exactly that.

"So," she began, causing everyone to shut up and take note. "The Aesir. Good or bad?"

"Both," someone called. Eva smiled.

"You think they're a grey area, then. Why is that?"

And it began. Her fears of being asked about Loki were proved utterly wrong. This wasn't a room full of gossipers, these were scholars, students. Eager to learn and willing to participate.

And they challenged, something she relished. In particular, one was seemingly determined to win the debate – and she couldn't say she was surprised that the topic had turned to Loki; he was an intriguing mythological character in himself, never mind the connection she had to the Loki who called himself King of Midgard.

"If we're agreed that Loki was to blame, then could Odin not have been at fault also?"

"Thor was the one who threatened to behead Loki, not Odin," the boy spoke up. Eva tilted her head, smiling.

"True. But how does that bring Odin into it?"

"He let Loki sit at the table. He could have refused. But he did not."

Eva looked at the boy properly as he sat at the back of the lecture hall. Longish auburn hair, and glittering blue-green eyes, with an angular face and perfect posture. Her lips twitched.

"Indeed he could have. But if we take into account that in that piece of lore, in the Lokasenna, Loki and Odin were blood brothers, Odin could not refuse, especially when Loki called him out on it."

"Assuming they are blood brothers, of course."

"In this instance, we will, yes. Do you have another theory?"

He never even faltered; she could feel his confidence even from where she stood. He knew what he was talking about, he wasn't grabbing at straws.

"Only that Loki and Thor are the brothers, and Odin their father."

That caused a stir, and the whole hall turned in their seats to look at the boy, intrigued and surprised that one could be so forthright. Eva raised an eyebrow.

"Oh? Do explain."

"In the mythology, it is written that Loki and Thor often went on escapades together, and while not stated, it implies a brotherly relationship, does it not?"

"Subjective. It would appear to be more of a blood-brother bond than a true biological tie," she replied calmly. The boy's eyes flickered, and he swiftly gave another point.

It continued between the two of them for the better part of fifteen minutes. The whole hall was utterly enraptured by the pair's verbal sparring back and forth, never faltering nor backing down. And Eva felt alive, rejuvenated by the debating. This was what she was born to do, she knew it. And there was no way Loki would keep her from it.

It ended with both of them cool as a breeze, intellectually sated, and Eva turned away as a low, amused voice sounded from the back of the room.

"Well, that was most invigorating. Class dismissed."

Eva's lips tugged, and she turned back to see the red-haired boy gone and a tall, lithe pale-skinned man dressed in sleek black making his way down the steps, much to the astonishment of the students, some of whom went white while others stifled cries of shock.

"I should have known you'd be present," she said dryly, gathering up her papers. "As soon as I saw the eyes, I knew. Nice touch with the hair, by the way. Snaptun Stone, hearth, flames. I approve. Now, do you think it might be possible for me to lecture without your interference?"

The students, despite Loki's dismissal of them, still remained in the room, fascinated by the scene before them. One had covertly taken their mobile phone and was recording every word, before Loki held out his hand and the device shot into his palm. He tutted, pressed a button, and then effortlessly tossed the phone back to the student.

"Your race never was one for subtlety," he remarked, glancing at the culprit once, a look which made them go pale. He then addressed the whole room in a calm yet cautionary tone. "You will find, any of you who tried to record this, that your devices have no memory of it. Please do not attempt to do so again. This was a lecture, after all, not a publicity event. Now, you will leave and you will do so quietly. I will not say it again."

They needed no further inducement, and the room gradually emptied of students, some of them thanking her with words and a smile, though nervous in essence.

"A pleasure," she called back, returning the smiles, her heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time. She sighed, tucking her notes into her bag, before turning to look at Loki.

"I suppose I should be thanking you," she said wryly. His eyes glittered.

"Should I expect gratitude?"

Eva laughed, and turned to head out of the room.

A/N: I hope this did not fall below your expectations, lovelies. It took me several rewrites and edits before I decided to throw caution to the wind and just hit 'publish'. So I hope it satisfies you all :)

Lightning xoxo

PS: There is an actual course at UCL like the one Eva took - it's called Viking Studies. It looks awesome. I'd love to take it, personally.