I wanted him, needed him, and for one night I refused to think about the consequences or the repercussions. I just wanted to be with him.

Loki smiled, relieved, and he almost seemed to glow. He bent down, kissing me again, only more fervently and deeper.

His hand slid under my nightgown, strong and sure on my thigh.

I loved his strength and power, and the way I could feel it in even his smalest touches. He tried to hold back, to be gentle so he wouldn’t hurt me, but when he tried to slide off my panties, he tore them in half.

I took off my nightgown, slipping it up over my head, because I didn’t want him ripping that too. He tried to be gentle with me, and some part of me did want him to be, because that’s the way I thought my first time should be. But we were both far too eager.

He started out slow, trying to ease himself in me, but I moaned in his ear, gripping tightly onto him, and any pretense of restraint was gone. It hurt, and I buried my face into his shoulder to keep from crying out. But he didn’t slow, and very soon, the heat grew inside me. I was glad he didn’t slow. Even the pain felt like pleasure.

Afterward, he colapsed on the bed next to me, both of us gasping for breath. We’d knocked the bed off kilter, and I vaguely remembered hearing the sound of a board cracking, so we might have broken it. The red curtains of the four-poster bed had been tied open, but they had come loose, so they closed around the bed.

A few candles lit the room outside, but on the bed, we were shrouded in the warm red glow as the light flickered through the curtains. It felt sheltered, like a warm cocoon, and I don’t think I’d ever felt more content or safe.

I lay on my back, and Loki moved next to me, almost encircling me. One arm was behind my neck, and the other one was draped over my bely. I wrapped my arms around his so I could hold him closer to me.

Nestled in his arms this way, the scar on his chest was right next to me. I’d never seen it this close before. It looked so jagged and rough. It slashed at an angle, starting right above his heart, and stopping below his other nipple.

“Do you hate me?” I asked quietly.

“Why on earth would I hate you?” Loki asked, laughing.

“Because of this.” I touched his scar, and his skin trembled around it. “Because of what my father did to you over me.”

“No, I don’t hate you.” He kissed my temple. “I could never hate you. And it’s not your fault what the King did.”

“How did you get this?” I asked.