I stretched out in bed, yawning deeply, enjoying the ample space—until my leg bumped into something that definitely hadn't been there when I fell asleep. Now, not to boast, but there aren't many who can sneak up on me, let alone slip into my bed undetected. I knew exactly who it was, but I couldn't resist messing with her. With my eyes half-open, feigning drowsiness, I reached out and cupped her chest, giving it a deliberate squeeze as if lost in thought.

I got what I deserved when her nails raked across my bare chest, deep enough to draw blood. I hissed in pain, but she didn't stop there. In a fluid, predatory motion, she straddled my waist and forced her tongue into my mouth. I groaned, half in annoyance, half in surrender. "Fuck me."

She pulled back, her lips curling into a devilish smirk. "Gladly, my dear."

"Dad!" Rachel's voice pierced through the door, and I was caught between disappointment and relief. On one hand, Rachel's shout had interrupted what promised to be wild, mind-blowing sex with a literal goddess of death. On the other, she'd saved me from what would probably be a physically punishing encounter—death by snu-snu.

"What's up!?" I called back, trying to sound casual despite the Norse goddess currently straddling me.

"Ori and Nevermore were at it again! The fridge was left open all night!" Rachel's voice carried the exasperation of a teenager dealing with a pair of unruly familiars. I could picture her standing there, staring at the open fridge door, shaking her head.

I buried my face in my hands. Why was I the only one in this house who knew how to close a damn door? Today was shopping day anyway, but still, those two were going to eat me out of house and home if this kept up.

Hel hummed beside me, her voice carrying that eerie, raspy undertone. "So, the rumours are true." She propped herself up on one elbow, her haunting eyes tracing over me with a mix of curiosity and predatory interest. "You've become a father." Her hand trailed down my chest, and without warning, she gripped me tightly. Always rough, always on her terms.

Reaching down I forced her to unclench, "Not happening," I grunted, swinging my legs off the bed in an attempt to further escape her clutches.

"Oh? And what, pray tell, isn't happening?" she asked, voice laced with mock innocence.

"I'm not impregnating you."

She grinned wickedly, her tight black bra and shorts dissolving into a green, ghostly fire, leaving her naked and impossibly alluring. She slid back onto my lap, her body pressing against mine, and for a moment, the tease of something more hung in the air. I knew that if I didn't get out of here soon, Rachel would burst in, and this scene would get a lot more awkward.

I leaned in and kissed Hel softly on the corner of her smirk. She blinked, her expression momentarily disarmed before it softened into a genuine smile—rare and disarming.

"I'm not having any more kids unless I get to see them every day." The words slipped out, and I instantly regretted it. My twins were a well-kept secret—not exactly unknown, but the fact that I was their father was. But with Rachel in my life now… I couldn't imagine being away from any child of mine.

It wasn't that I couldn't see myself with Hel; she was crazy, bloodthirsty, and checked every box I didn't even know I had. But Hel was bound to Helheim. Even if I got her pregnant with whatever Norse fertility magic she had planned, she'd eventually have to return to her realm, and that just opened up a whole can of worms of what if's.

Hel leaned in, tracing a finger down my chest. "Oh, Rowan. We both know I'm not the settling-down type. But the offer's always on the table." Her voice was a whisper, tinged with temptation and just a hint of sadness, a brief glimpse of what could never be.

I pulled back, giving her a half-smile. "Yeah. I know."

Hel had insisted on exploring the town, and against my better judgement, I found myself walking beside her, a goddess of death draped in a long, fur-lined coat that somehow managed to be both regal and completely out of place among the humble buildings of my sleepy Alaskan town. Her presence was magnetic; she moved with a grace that turned heads, her icy eyes gleaming with a predatory allure that set her apart from everyone else around us.

"You realize this isn't exactly your kind of place, right?" I asked, stuffing my hands into my jacket pockets. "Not exactly the underworld of Helheim, is it?"

Hel shot me a sideways glance, her lips quirking in amusement. "I think it's charming. And besides, every realm needs a break from the endless cycle of death and despair. Even gods need a vacation."

We wandered through the streets, passing quaint shops and diners, the cold Alaskan air biting at our cheeks. Hel, for once, seemed relaxed, enjoying the simplicity of the mortal world. We stopped at a small café that overlooked the harbour, its windows fogged up from the warmth inside. I ordered us coffee, and we found a table near the window, the view offering a clear sight of the icy waters beyond.

Hel sipped her coffee, her expression momentarily softened by the warmth of the mug between her hands. "It's been a long time since I did something so... mundane," she admitted, her voice losing its usual edge.

"Let me guess, all the way back to the Viking Age?" I teased, leaning back in my chair.

She rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of fondness there. "There's something to be said about experiencing the world without having to rule it or tear it apart."

I opened my mouth to respond, but the words died in my throat as a sudden, prickling sensation washed over me. The atmosphere shifted, growing colder, darker. I glanced at Hel, whose serene demeanour had vanished, replaced by a look of wary alertness.

"They're here," she said quietly, setting her mug down with a deliberate calmness that didn't match the tension crackling in the air.

I scanned the surroundings, my eyes narrowing as I spotted the source of the disturbance—a faint ripple in reality, like heatwaves but twisted, contorted. Shadows flickered, growing denser, until they coalesced into forms that were unmistakable: draugr, Norse undead warriors who had died not in battle, with eyes like glowing coals, lumbering toward us from the shadows.

"Damn it, Hel. You couldn't have left your fan club back in Helheim, could you?" I muttered, standing up and cracking my knuckles.

Hel's smile returned, but this time it was edged with anticipation. "They've always been drawn to me, like moths to a flame. It's part of my charm." She wasn't wrong, you didn't blame the flame for that, nor could I blame Hel for it. I still did, but for the sake of being able to moan but even still she wasn't at fault.

The café patrons were already scrambling, tables overturned in their rush to escape. The draugr, sensing Hel's presence, ignored the mortals entirely, their focus fixed solely on her. I pulled a silver knife from my jacket—one of the many tools I kept on me for exactly this kind of nonsense.

"Is there a point of me asking you to command them not to attack?"

Her smirk was answer enough.

The first draugr lunged, and I met it head-on, slashing across its chest. The creature let out a gurgling snarl, black ichor spilling from the wound as it staggered back. Hel, meanwhile, didn't even bother to rise from her chair. With a lazy flick of her wrist, she summoned a green, ethereal flame that engulfed one of the undead, reducing it to ashes in seconds.

"They're persistent, I'll give them that," she said, her tone almost conversational as she incinerated another.

"They're ruining date night," I said in mock annoyance, shoving a draugr back with a well-aimed kick before plunging the knife into its skull. "Couldn't we just get through one evening without death and destruction?"

Hel laughed, a melodic sound that was entirely at odds with the chaos around us. "Where's the fun in that?"

One of the creatures broke through, barrelling toward Hel with a rusty axe raised high. I moved to intercept, but she was faster, her gaze turning cold and unyielding. The draugr froze mid-strike, its undead flesh turning brittle and gray before shattering into a pile of dust.

"Always so dramatic," I remarked, panting slightly from the exertion. "You really know how to make an impression."

Hel shrugged, brushing ash from her coat. "What can I say? I don't do anything halfway."

The fight ended as abruptly as it had begun, the remaining draugr disintegrating into smoke and shadows, retreating back into whatever hellish void they had crawled from. The café was a wreck—tables overturned, windows shattered, and the once-cozy atmosphere now tinged with the lingering scent of death.

I glanced at Hel, who stood unfazed amidst the destruction, her expression a mix of satisfaction and boredom. "Well, that was fun," she said, as if we hadn't just decimated half the place. Making a mental note to front up the cost of damages. Insurance probably didn't cover acts of me, which it really should at this point.

I snorted, shaking my head. "Yeah, just a normal night out with you, huh?"

She stepped closer, her eyes meeting mine with a glint of something unspoken. "There's nothing normal about us, Rowan. That's why it works."

I couldn't argue with that. With Hel, every day was an adventure, and normalcy was just a fleeting illusion. I wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and together, we walked out of the wrecked café, leaving behind the aftermath of our interrupted date.

"Next time, we're picking a quieter place," I said, half-joking.

Hel smirked, leaning into me as we walked. "But where's the thrill in that?"

After the chaos in the café, we didn't head back to the house—no need to scar Rachel with what Hel and I were about to do. Instead, we slipped into the dense woods on the outskirts of town, where the trees grew thick and the ground was dusted with snow that never seemed to melt, even in the heart of summer. The air was cold, crisp, but there was a simmering heat between us that cut through the chill.

Hel led the way, her silhouette a haunting blend of shadows and ethereal light, the dark forest coming alive with the faint, eerie glow that always clung to her. She stopped by a cluster of ancient pines, the area cloaked in a mist that felt like it belonged to another world entirely—part Helheim, part hellfire.

I didn't bother with words; we both knew why we were here. The draugr attack, the banter, the near-brush with death—it was foreplay, the kind of deadly dance we'd been doing for centuries. Hel turned to face me, her expression a mix of defiance and longing, the moonlight reflecting off her pale skin, highlighting the sharp angles of her face and the hunger in her eyes.

I grabbed her roughly by the waist, yanking her close, our lips colliding in a fierce kiss that was more teeth and fire than tenderness. She responded in kind, nails digging into my back, leaving fresh trails of crimson in her wake. I could feel the coolness of her touch, a stark contrast to the heat building between us.

Hel broke away, panting slightly, her breath visible in the frosty air. "Always so eager," she taunted, her voice low, seductive, laced with a dangerous edge.

I grinned, the corners of my mouth curling into a wolfish smirk. "And you always make me work for it."

Without warning, she shoved me against a tree, her strength undeniable despite her slender frame. I let out a low growl as she straddled me, her body pressing against mine, her lips ghosting over my ear. The temperature around us dropped, a creeping cold that seeped into my bones, but it only fueled the heat coursing through my veins.

With a flick of her wrist, Hel's clothes disintegrated into icy mist, leaving her bare in the moonlight. I followed suit, my devil flames licking at my skin, burning away my clothes in a flash of orange and red. The magic between us crackled, a clash of fire and frost that sent sparks flying, illuminating the darkness around us.

Hel's eyes locked onto mine, and for a brief, unguarded moment, there was something more in her gaze—a flicker of warmth, a glimpse of something dangerously close to affection. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, buried beneath layers of pride and defiance.

She wasted no time, positioning herself and sinking down onto me with a sharp, gasping breath. Her back arched, and I gripped her hips, pulling her closer, deeper. The cold of her skin met the heat of mine, and the air around us hissed, steam rising as frost met flame.

"Fuck, Hel," I groaned, my fingers digging into her flesh as she rode me with the kind of intensity that only a goddess could muster. There was no softness between us, just raw, unbridled passion—a battle of wills as much as it was a physical clash.

Hel's magic flared, icy tendrils wrapping around my arms and chest, binding me to the tree as she moved with an almost brutal rhythm. I responded with my own power, letting my flames burst forth, searing through the ice, burning hot enough to make her gasp and moan. The forest around us glowed with the conflicting energies, casting flickering shadows that danced like ghosts.

This wasn't new; we'd done this countless times over the years, each encounter a test of strength, a battle to see who could outlast the other. But tonight felt different. There was a desperation in the way we moved, a need that went beyond the physical. I could feel it in the way her nails scraped against my skin, the way her breath hitched when I thrust deeper, harder.

Hel's pace quickened, her usually composed demeanour unrevealing as she lost herself in the moment. She leaned down, her lips hovering just above mine, our breaths mingling. "You're mine, Rowan," she whispered, her voice shaky, almost vulnerable. It was the closest thing to an admission either of us would dare to make.

Meeting her thrust for thrust. The world around us blurred, our surroundings nothing but a swirl of heat and frost, magic and madness.

The climax hit like a storm, violent and unrelenting. Hel's body shuddered, her power flaring wildly as she clung to me, her breath coming in ragged gasps. I followed a moment later, my flames surging, burning hotter than ever before, merging with her frost in a brilliant, blinding burst of light that lit up the entire forest.

For a moment, we just stayed there, entangled, catching our breaths as the magic slowly faded, leaving only the aftermath—a charred circle of scorched earth surrounded by frost-covered trees. Hel's head rested against my shoulder, her usual smirk replaced by something softer, almost wistful.

But as always, neither of us said anything. The unspoken words hung heavy in the air, and we both knew they wouldn't be voiced tonight—or maybe ever. Instead, Hel pulled away, slipping off me with a sigh, her breath visible in the chill.

"Same time next year?" she quipped, the smirk returning as she conjured her clothes back with a wave of her hand.

I chuckled, shaking my head. "I'll pencil you in."

We dressed in silence, the moment between us already fading into memory, another chapter in our long, twisted history. But as we made our way back to town, walking side by side through the snowy woods, I couldn't help but feel that maybe, just maybe, this was more than just another battle.

But then again, with Hel, nothing was ever simple.

The walk back to town was quiet, almost too quiet. Hel had parted ways with a teasing smirk and a promise to haunt my dreams, leaving me alone in the darkened woods. I trudged along the snowy path, the cold biting at my skin, but it wasn't the chill that unsettled me. There was something off, a faint whisper of wrongness in the air that prickled the back of my neck. It was as if the world itself was holding its breath, waiting for something terrible to unfold.

I brushed off the feeling, chalking it up to the aftermath of a night with Hel. Her presence always left lingering shadows that clung to everything, like the ghost of a storm that had passed but wasn't entirely gone. Still, I couldn't shake the sense that something bigger was on the horizon, something I wasn't prepared for.

When I reached the house, the lights were still on, a soft glow spilling out onto the snow-covered porch. I stepped inside, kicking off my boots and shaking off the cold. The familiar warmth of home greeted me, but it felt muted, subdued, as if the house was mirroring my unease.

Rachel was up, curled on the couch in her oversized hoodie, her eyes glued to the TV. She glanced over when I walked in, her expression a mix of relief and annoyance—typical teenage moodiness with a dash of genuine concern.

"Late night with the goddess?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. The TV flickered, some late-night show about monsters and heroes filling the room with muted sound.

I snorted, shrugging off my jacket and tossing it over a chair. "You could say that. Had to make sure she didn't turn half the town into ice sculptures."

Rachel rolled her eyes but didn't push it further. She was used to my bizarre escapades by now. Still, the way she kept glancing back at the TV, as if expecting something, only added to the unease that had been nagging at me since the woods.

"What's up?" I asked, joining her on the couch, though my mind was half elsewhere, still trying to piece together the strange feeling in the air.

Rachel shrugged, but there was a tension in her shoulders. "Just… weird stuff on the news lately. More than usual. People getting sick, acting crazy. Like, real end-of-the-world vibes."

I frowned, leaning forward to catch the news anchor's report. Images of riots, sickened civilians, and strange phenomena played out on the screen—things that felt unnervingly familiar. It wasn't just random chaos; it was calculated, as if someone was pulling strings behind the scenes. The kind of thing that usually meant trouble with a capital 'T.'

Before I could say anything, my phone buzzed, the screen lighting up with a name that pulled me out of my thoughts: Johanna Constantine.

I hesitated for a second, knowing that whatever this call was about, it wasn't going to be a social chat. With Johanna, it never was. I glanced at Rachel, who gave me a knowing look before turning back to the TV.

"Yeah?" I answered, keeping my voice low, though Rachel was already too engrossed in the screen to eavesdrop.

"Rowan, I hope you haven't been up to too much debauchery tonight," Johanna's voice came through, dripping with her usual dry sarcasm. But there was an urgency beneath it that set my nerves on edge. "I've got a situation that needs your… particular talents."

I rubbed the back of my neck, already feeling the weight of whatever she was about to drop on me. "Go on. What kind of mess are we talking about?"

"Amazonian mess," she replied bluntly. "Seems like one of their own's gone rogue, spreading a plague that's only affecting men. You can imagine how well that's going over with the Justice League."

My mind flashed to the images on the news, the sudden outbreak of violence, the sickness. It all made sense now.

"The League's neck-deep in this, and they're going to need all the help they can get. I told them I had a guy who's dealt with crazier gods than Ares. So, pack up your toys, love. You're going to be playing with the big leagues tonight."

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. The last thing I wanted was to get caught up in a mess with the Justice League, but if Johanna was reaching out, it was serious. "Alright, I'm in. Where do I start?"

"I'll send you the coordinates. And Rowan?" Her voice softened, just for a moment. "Be careful. This one's got a real nasty edge to it."

The line went dead, and I pocketed my phone, my mind already spinning with the implications. This wasn't just another supernatural skirmish; this was a direct threat to the balance of power. And if the Amazons were involved, it was personal.

I stood up, casting one last look at Rachel. She was still watching the TV, lost in the drama unfolding on screen, blissfully unaware of how close it all was to her doorstep.

"I've got to go handle something," I said, grabbing my coat again. "Stay inside, keep an eye on Ori and Nevermore. And don't open the door for anyone, okay?"

Rachel looked up, frowning. "You're not going out with Hel again, are you?"

I chuckled, shaking my head. "No, kiddo. This is work. But I'll be back before you know it."

As I stepped out into the cold night, the unease from earlier returned, sharper this time. Whatever was happening, it was only the beginning, and something told me it was about to get a hell of a lot worse before it got better.

With a grim resolve, I headed toward the coordinates Johanna sent, ready to face whatever twisted challenge lay ahead. This was just another fight, another chance to tip the scales in our favour. But with the League involved, there was no room for mistakes.

Time to see if a devil's son could keep up with the world's greatest heroes.

A/N - Published - 2024/09/12

Yo, thanks for all the support shown to this story.