When she opened her eyes, Dahlia hazily absorbed her surroundings. She was lying in a plush, four-poster bed of white and maroon. Disoriented, she sat up, her attention first fixed on the large window across from her. It was daytime, allowing her to see the garden below. As it was still cold, there wasn't much color or life, and the massive fountain with a giant, serpent statue was not running.
She took a moment to examine herself. She still wore the dress from the masquerade (she had gotten separated from her mask), though her dress was tattered and torn in places that left her feeling vulnerable. Otherwise, she seemed mostly unscathed, save for a few scratches and bruises.
Dahlia cautiously stepped into the hallway. Her bare feet left the wooden floor and touched gray carpet, finding relief in the comfortable transition. She treaded quietly, still not sure exactly where she was or who brought her here. She stayed on high alert, though she had no weapons with her to defend herself, should things get ugly.
She took the hallway to the right, following it past the ornate furniture and paintings on the wall. It didn't take long for her to recognize that she was in a mansion - one that was rather modernized, spacious, and brightly lit. Everything seemed fairly well normal - even the hanging art of oil paintings and abstracts suggested that whoever owned this home was likely human.
After passing through a series of unoccupied rooms, she came across another bedroom on the same floor - one that was larger and more glamorous. It was darker than the other rooms she had ventured through. The beryl-colored curtains and chartreuse-and-black bedsheets gave her both an idea as to where she might be and also a sense of relief.
As she neared the open set of doors that led out to a balcony, she half anticipated she would find someone there. Then, as she turned around, a familiar face walked into the room through the door that she had entered through.
"Loki," she said, failing to hide her relief as she sighed.
"Yours truly," he said. It was at this moment that she noticed him wince. She had briefly forgotten that he took what was literally a barricade of broken shards of glass in order to keep her out of harm's way.
"I hope you have an explanation for everything that went down," she said. As she realized his wounds were still rather fresh, she wished she had used a different, more sympathetic tone.
"Give me a moment, pet." He opened up another door to his left, moving with care in his step. The door led into a massive bathroom. "I've had a long, long night."
"Right, of course."
He removed his black, dress shirt, though even from the other room, she could see the tears in his flesh, most of which still had glass shards embedded in them. She couldn't possibly let him handle this on his own. She followed him into the bathroom, her hands taking his shirt from him.
"Let me help."
Slowly, and with gritted teeth, Loki sat on a bench against the black, tiled wall. He obliged for her to do as she needed, though the process was not a clean one. Using the medicine in the cabinet (as it was all that was provided to her right now), she sterilized the wounds as she would carefully pull out the glass pieces.
"Keith Carr was already dead by the time we got up there," Loki explained, hissing in between extractions.
"Those bodies," Dahlia said, "must have been him and his men?"
"Indeed."
"And who was the man fighting Thor?"
As Dahlia began cleaning the wounds, she listened to Loki and what information he had about the sorcerer. He behaved as though he was hesitant to answer her, at first. The man was known as Baron Blood, and, as was evident from the brief encounter in the observatory of the hotel, he was a magic-user. Loki also disclosed that he was a vampire. He usually made it a point to drink blood from criminals, which made sense as to why he targeted Carr and his cohorts.
She didn't share with him that she had passed out when they locked gazes. She hadn't even gotten a good enough look at him beforehand, and even now, she couldn't seem to recall his face. All she could recall were the glowing, blue eyes.
"Is Thor okay?"
As if he seemed annoyed that she asked, Loki huffed a bit. By now, she was merely bandaging him up, and she did so with care and precision.
"The sorcerer managed to intervene before things got out of hand. So, yes... Thor is just fine."
"Hey." Detecting the agitation and saltoness in his response, she grabbed his knee firmly, forcing him to look at her. "Are you serious right now?"
"Yes. Forgive me for expressing frustration that my brother's well-being is at the forefront of your mind."
Dahlia looked at him for a moment. She wanted to tell him he was wrong, which he was. Yet, any sign of emotion towards Loki was not something she was ready to express. She left her mouth open for a moment, almost in shock, before she rose to her feet.
She wanted to lash at him, but their relationship thus far had only ever been turbulent. She was astonished by his sudden display of jealousy, when before, he seemed unfazed. "It wasn't," she insisted, trying to keep her tone even. She really didn't know how else to defend herself without pushing the envelope too much. Was it possible that Loki really thought she had something with Thor, and that he truly did harbor some envy about it?
"The proof is in the pudding, love," he said as he trailed after her. They were back in the bedroom, but by now, she was just looking to get out of the mansion. She took the short way, heading towards the balcony once again. "Your little mission gave you two some time to get close and personal, didn't it?"
"It was a cover-up, you imbecile!" she yelled back at him, standing up on the stone railing of the balcony. She fell effortlessly, and frayed, black chiffon and lace flew about her as she landed in the courtyard's garden. She headed past the statue and towards the iron bars that were the gate leading her out.
She'd figure out a way to get back home, and she'd follow up with Samantha and Thor to fill in the gaos on what happened the night before.
"Oh, no, you don't."
The front of her body was thrust up against the gate, causing it to creak slightly against the force and bounce back against her.
It was rapidly becoming another brawl. She pushed herself back from the gate to knock him off of her, and remarkably, Loki was still standing. By now, Dahlia was royally pissed off - enough that she couldn't hold back her words any longer.
"How dare you!" She threw a punch at him, which he reared back from with relative ease. "You're the god of mischief, not me!" Another fist flew at him. "If anything, I should be the one lacking trust in you!"
"And yet, here we are!" He grabbed another flying fist, pulling her towards and past him, back towards the concrete snake.
"Yeah, no kidding." Her eyes threw daggers as she regained herself, and before she could throw herself at him again, she took a breath. This immature fighting would not prove her point. "Loki... I..." She hesitated, her heart racing like hummingbird wings against her chest. He was really going to make her say it, wasn't he?
"I am yours," she finally said in defeat, her voice breaking. "Completely and utterly. I need you. And I fucking hate that I do, Loki, but damnit..." She charged at him again, pushing his back into the gate. She stopped, and as she boxed him into the bars, she confessed that even now, she wanted him. The adrenaline of the fight wasn't helping matters - nor the fact that he was without his shirt still.
He was smiling now. "Go on."
She lost her train of thought. Her lips felt dry, and yet, the rest of her felt hot and needful.
"I have nothing else to say."
Their lips were dangerously close, both of them breathing heavily as she tried to decide what to do. Should she stay? Should she go?
"Well, if you're going to leave, you've blocked your only way out."
That was true, too.
"But, you don't have to leave..." he added. His hand reached up, fingers delicately brushing her cascading hair from her eyes.
Fuck it.
She leaned in enough to close the space between their lips. Kissing him was like drinking water after days of traveling the desert. Her tongue sought out his, and the warmth of his mouth caused her icy demeanor to melt instantaneously. His hands caressed the small of her back, fingers applying pressure to her body to pull her closer to him.
Suddenly, she grabbed the bars on either side of him. Moaning softly against his lips, she lifted one leg over his waist, then the other. Loki was all too eager to assist, standing nestled comfortably between her legs as he returned the hungry kiss. His hands were able to explore her freely as she held her weight around him, her fists clenched tightly at the iron bars. He shredded apart the material of her dress, using it's preexisting tears to easily expose her to him. He showered her breasts in adoration, hands and mouth taking turns to stir her excitement. Dahlia reveled in the feeling, his lust for her driving her to an immeasurable level of passion.
Her gown now reduced to little more than shredded remains of gauze, she loosened her grip just enough on the bars to drop her body just a few inches, then pulled herself forward and against him. Loki growled pleasurably, and as she felt his hardness press against her, Dahlia was done in completely. With one hand, she helped release him from the confines of his pants, once again seizing the gate with both hands as he filled her.
Using her leverage, she took the control, her arm strength andnher hips doing most of the work as she bounced on top of him. He held the valkyrie as she worked, his grip tight on her backside as he supported her.
"Dahlia," he breathed through grunts, staring up at her in bewilderment. "You are truly awe-inspiring."
There didn't seem to be any other buildings or residents nearby, which was practically permission given for them to be as open about their promiscuity as they wished. Neither of them possessed any shame in their pursuit on each other, so much that even after Dahlia's first climax, Loki only took it as an opportunity to regain the upper hand. He all but threw her down on the slab of stone that circled the immobile fountain. It wasn't pain that she felt when her back hit the concrete, and through her orgasm-induced stupor, she was left unable to dispute it.
Their tryst carried on into sunset. Despite his injuries, Loki's endurance was impressive, but as she brushed her lips over one of the bandaged wounds on his neck, she paused at the warmth that left a sensation on his skin, followed by a small, yellow glow.
Her Vanir magic, passed down by Freyja herself, had healed the spot entirely. The fervor in their exchange modified from there on, more passionate and tender than just moments before.