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“Cared about” was not the right phrase. She cared about all mortals, the way a doting owner would care for beloved pets. Even the worst ones had been innocent children once; it was never anyone’s intention to go wrong.
But in the five thousand years since she’d been looking after them, she’d never felt this way about anyone but one.
She remembered the first time she’d seen him—as a baby, of course. It was her job to stand with her two sisters at the cribs of their assigned list of mortals, and determine the weave—past, present and future—of each mortal’s fate.
From the first second she’d seen the infant Luke Mars, she’d known the shape of his whole life and everything about him. At that moment she knew with absolute conviction that he was the only man she would ever love—love as she was never supposed to love a mortal.
And as all these confusing sensations and convictions swept over her, while Aurora stood dumbstruck, staring down into his baby-blue eyes...
Her sister Val had claimed him as her own.
Claimed him for herself and for Odin, Odin Allfather, Almighty Warrior King of the Gods.
Which might sound like an honor, but really what it meant was early, glorious death.
Aurora had never understood what about death could possibly be glorious.
It was a scam, was all, a bunch of PR hype. Odin needed warriors and the Valkyries, women warriors like her sister, went out making it happen...
A head popped up from the backseat, startling Aurora so that she swerved and nearly ran off the road.
“Never let a Norn drive,” the intruder tsked.
“Loki!” Aurora was both limp with relief and pissed beyond belief. The man—although not a man exactly—in the backseat was irritatingly handsome, young and dark-haired and dark-eyed. That is, when he wasn’t red-haired or golden-haired or Asian or African or Latin. Or female, for that matter. You never could tell with a shape-shifter. He was Loki: trickster, shifter and magician, the bane of the whole pantheon of the gods in Asgard.
“You’ve really torn it this time, lovely.” He smirked at her in the rearview mirror. “Crossing destiny, abducting a mortal. And for what?” He leaned forward in the seat, looked over Luke’s unconscious body.
“Oh, my. Not bad actually...”
“He’s mine,” she said with such fiery conviction that she surprised herself.
“That’s not what I hear,” he said, and she faltered again. She couldn’t argue the point.
Of all the gods, why was it Loki who was always there when she least wanted him there?
“Because we’re the same,” he said, as if he’d read her mind, which probably he had. “The other Aesir don’t care about mortals. They’re content to dwell godlike in their godly realm, doing their godly things. But you and I, and your oh-so-fetching sisters—we understand the fascination of these puzzling beings, don’t we?”
Truth wasn’t normally a word she associated with Loki—in any way—but Aurora was struck by the truth of this.
“Some more fascinating than others, eh, lovely?” He winked at her lewdly, spoiling the moment.
She summoned all the dignity she could muster. “I am bound by duty to protect this one.”
“Which is why he’s in a speeding car, bleeding to death.”
“He’s not bleeding to death. I’m going to take care of him.”
“Aurora, sweet,” Loki said in that silky voice that for eons had seduced goddesses and mortals alike. “You can’t play by the rules any more than I can. Ditch the mortal and come with me. Together we’d be unstoppable—we could crack the whole world open.”
“You’re married,” she reminded him. “Three wives. Or is it four?”
“And none of them hold a candle to you,” he said breezily. “My dear, these mixed relationships never work out well. Gods should be with gods, and men should be with men. Or women. Or women with women. Or...”
“You are so very helpful,” she said through her teeth, concentrating on the road. “Can you get the hell out of the car now?”
“You can’t talk that way to a god.”
“Demigod,” she corrected. Loki always exaggerated, especially when it came to himself.
“You need me. How many times have I saved that lovely...”
“Don’t,” she warned.
“Skin of yours?” he finished.
Aurora was about to point out that for every “favor” Loki granted, twelve times more trouble seemed to come of it. Instead, she just said, “Please. Leave.”
“As you wish. You’ll be calling for me soon enough. Just you wait and see,” he said maddeningly, and promptly disappeared.
Aurora bit her lip...then looked at Luke beside her in the seat, and her heart melted. She tightened her hands on the wheel, and drove.
* * *
When Luke came to again, everything had changed. He was in the car alone; it was stopped, with the windows down.
He reached instantly for his weapon and found it was there in his holster, heavy and real. He wasn’t sure how it had gotten there, but he relaxed slightly at the feel of it. He was way out of the city. It wasn’t just by the lack of light that he could tell. The whole air was different, live and breathing, with towering presences...
A forest?
The air was full of a spicy scent—not pine, more like cedar, but not quite. And he felt...better. He was still in enormous pain, but the bleeding seemed to have stopped... At least he hadn’t bled out. There was something comforting about the oxygen-rich air.
He stared out the window into the surrounding dark and saw that the car was parked in a lot surrounded by a split-rail fence and immense trees, bigger than he’d ever seen in his life—unreal, actually. It gave him an uneasy feeling...timeless, eternal...
Where the hell am I?
He stared into the towering shadows and saw there was some kind of building up ahead; the trees had shielded it from his view at first.
He didn’t know where he was, he didn’t know how he’d gotten there, and the woman—well, who the hell knew where or who the woman was?
If there ever had been a woman.
He felt again for the reassuring weight of his weapon. It was there...but the hulking blond man had disarmed him right before he’d shot him. Hadn’t he? Which meant that someone—that she—had put it back in its holster.
What the hell?
Wherever he was, whatever was happening, he had to get out.
He made a move for the door and found himself in blinding pain. A veil of gray passed over his eyes and he gasped. Not good.
Suddenly the car door was opening beside him, and the woman was there. A shock, because he hadn’t heard her approach at all. Normally his hearing was keen as a bat’s.
She looked startled, then pleased. “You’re awake.”
With a supreme effort, he pulled the Glock and lunged out of the car, supporting himself by leaning on the roof while he used the other hand to train the gun on her.
She stood still, looking down at the Glock and then back up at him expectantly, not seeming afraid or surprised at all.
“How do you feel?” she asked.
Not exactly the words of someone who was trying to kill him.
“Where are we?” he demanded.
“The Sequoias.”
He felt a rush of relief. It made perfect sense; he should have known right away by the immensity of the trees around him. A real place, not some ancient universe or other world or whatever he’d been thinking it was.
I must still be pretty out of it, he thought, and then realized he also must have been out for at least three hours—the distance from the city to the national forest.
“You’ve been driving for three hours?” he asked, unnerved.
She looked evasive. “Not exactly.”
“How many hours exactly?”
“Well, hours,” she said vaguely, “are not all that relevant actually. It’s about time, you see. Time can do strange things.”
Maybe it was because he was dizzy from bleeding so heavily, but he wasn’t following her at all. He shook his head to clear it. “Let’s start from the beginning. Who are you? What happened back there? What am I doing here?”
“Someone was trying to kill you,” she said.
“That part I remember,” he said coldly.
I was lying on the dock, bleeding... I was thinking I was dead...
He remembered the dark tunnel that had opened up to him...
And then what? What happened? The next thing I can remember is being with her. No memory of how, or when, or why...
“We’ll go to the room,” she said suddenly. “You need to lie down.”
“The room?”
“This is a hotel. A lodge, I think you call it.”
Luke raised his eyebrows. She’d gotten a room? That was an interesting development—if it was in any way true. They could be anywhere. She could be taking him anywhere. Anyone at all could be waiting in “the room.”
“You can rest, and I can...” She stopped, looking worried, almost as if she didn’t know how to complete the sentence. Not his problem. He had things to do, people to see.
“I need to call my team,” he told her.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said quickly.
He refrained, barely, from asking her just what the hell she had to do with it, and simply reached for his phone. But when he speed-dialed his partner he got nothing, no connection. And nothing when he tried Lieutenant Duncan. He lifted the phone and squinted down on the screen. There were no bars, his phone was completely dead.
“I’ll need to borrow your phone,” he said stiffly.
She looked distressed. “I’m sorry. I don’t have one.”
Right, lady, who doesn’t have a phone?
He was about to insist, search her if he had to—but then he stopped, thinking.
My CI phones about a shipment and I show up and none of the rest of the team is there and I’m shot, nearly killed.
She was looking at him as if she understood the direction his thoughts were heading.
“I got set up,” he said slowly. The realization was like a shot to the gut.
She lifted her hands slightly in...sympathy? Apology? Agreement?
“How do you know all this?” he demanded. “Who are you?”
“We’ll go to the room and I’ll tell you everything. I promise.”
Luke briefly debated getting back into the car and getting the hell away. There was no reason to trust her or think that she wasn’t involved in whatever craziness was going on. But he knew realistically that even if he wrestled her for the keys, he was too injured to get far. He didn’t know what he was getting into, but he was the one with the gun, which meant as long as he could stay conscious, he was in no particular danger.
“All right,” he said roughly, with a firm grip on the Glock. “Let’s go.”
Chapter 3 (#uf27960d7-36c7-57e7-b0fd-87dac80a8cdc)
The hotel was a lodge, par for the course in a national forest, and the room was really a suite—rustic but elegant. Luke kept the Glock trained on the redhead as he looked around: a big bed, lots of polished wood, burl tables, a cozy conversation area of couch and armchairs in front of a fireplace that was already blazing, and big gleaming windows that afforded a breathtaking view of the moon on the cove.
Very nice. If he’d been kidnapped, at least he couldn’t complain about the accommodations. And only one bed...what a shame. They’d have to share.
Oh, no, you don’t, he ordered himself. Where did that even come from?Focus. You need to figure out what’s going on here.
He looked first to the phone on the bed table. As he limped toward it he got a look at the clock above the fireplace: it said 12:16. That couldn’t be right, though; he’d gotten the call at his flat just after eleven, and it was obviously many hours later.
He picked up the phone...but it didn’t seem to be working, either.
Maybe best not to talk to anyone until I figure more out.
He lowered himself to the bed and willed himself not to bleed out. The redhead was watching him anxiously.
“We’re going to start with you,” he said, “and what you have to do with all of this.” He was beginning to think there was something odd about her. For one thing, she must have been the one who had given him back his gun. Why?
“What’s your name?” he demanded.
