“I’m scared,” I said, so quietly I wasn’t sure he’d even hear me. I wasn’t sure I wanted him to. “I’m scared of myself, like this—of what I could do.” To anyone, whether they deserved it or not. Of having to decide whether they did deserve it. Of everything that came with being a fucking valkyrie, really. “Good,” Loki said, his voice nothing but warmth now. “That, not any ‘goodness of heart,’ is what makes the difference between you and someone unworthy. And think about it, Ari. If you’re afraid, imagine how afraid the dark elves must be of you and what you can do, to make a threat like they did.” He sounded almost awed with that last remark. He saw me, he saw every dark place in me, and he was awed. I was still a little dizzy with the shots I’d inhaled, and the warmth and the awe wrapped around me with an urge I couldn’t quite bring myself to deny. I grasped the front of Loki’s shirt with both hands and tipped my head that last tiny distance to catch his mouth with mine. The god drew in a startled breath, and then he was kissing me back, hard and hungry. His thumb traced an arcing line across my side. Everywhere our bodies touched, heat tingled through my nerves as if he’d literally set me on fire. But what an intoxicating fire it was. I let myself sink into him, into the hot heady sensation of his lips meeting mine, where nothing else mattered just for a moment. If he was going to give, then I’d take everything I could get. He kissed me again, and the electricity of it set me alight like a sparkler. A whimper crept from my throat when his mouth trailed away from mine, charting a scorching path along my jaw. “Tell me you’ll come back,” he murmured beside my ear. “I’m not going to drag you. I want you to want to. We can make those bastards pay, Ari.”