Page 27 of Loki

She smiled as adrenaline pulsed through her. “Trust me... I know all his moves.”

Several beings approached Loki, talking to him animatedly as he backed away and blew her a kiss.

Idiot.

She had no doubt the spectators were trying to figure out who she was and what she was doing with Odin.

“Well, daughter? Are we going to do this or not?” Odin called.

Oh, they were doing it. They were definitely doing it.

Val and Odin circled each other, and out of the corner of her eye, she caught Loki taking money from several men. A woman sauntered up to him and ran her hand down his chest, but Loki smiled at her, peeled her hand from his shirt, and focused on Val. A spike of jealousy rippled through her, and she wanted to rip out the woman’s bright red fingernails.

Due to the distraction, Odin leapt toward her. His left fist pulled back and came down toward her face. Val quickly turned away and spun across the floor out of his reach. His fist slammed into the deck of the cage, making it shake. Val pounced. Hopping to her feet, she sprung across the cage, her own fist ready to strike, but Odin turned at the last second and snared her hand, throwing her to the floor.

His eye twitched.

Good. Now we both know where the other stands.

Odin appraised her for a moment and then attacked again, but she deflected his attack and attacked herself with one of his moves. Odin deflected her and spun around to kick her in the ribs, but she’d practiced the move a million times herself, so she snagged his foot and twisted it at the last second, being sure to kick out and catch him on the side of the knee.

Odin groaned and toppled to the floor. Val’s instincts took over, and she didn’t let up. She rushed him, stomping downward on his chest. He twisted her ankle, and she dropped beside him. She needed to get back to her feet. On the ground, his body mass would pin her.

She raised her free leg and brought it down on his face, but he stopped the leg and shoved her away. She twisted and got to her knees, but he was up and wrapped his arms around her waist, dragging her back to the ground. They grappled, each trying for the upper hand, but she was in trouble when he got behind her and clasped his arm around her throat.

Odin squeezed, cutting off her air supply.

“There is no shame in tapping out, daughter.”

She had to move. If she didn’t, she’d pass out for sure. She grappled with his arm, but her upper body strength was nowhere near his. So, she changed tactics and gripped the back of his t-shirt. Bucking her hips into the air, she flipped over his back and out of his grasp. She planted a boot in his back and sent him sprawling. Rage overtook her. This was her chance to show him what she could do and make him pay one-thousandth of a portion for what he’d done to her sisters.

Val’s shoulder blades itched, and she did something she hadn’t done in more years than she could count. She released her wings from where they hid within her skin. The tattered and torn feathers spread wide and lifted her into the air. With all the momentum she could muster, she propelled herself downward, boots aimed for the back of Odin’s head.

“No magic,” someone yelled.

“That’s not magic. She was born with them,” Loki replied.

A second before her boots landed on the back of Odin’s neck, he pitched sideways and hopped to his feet. Val slammed to the ground, where Odin kicked her in the chest, sending her flying backward into the chain link wall. She crashed back, and several feathers ripped out as she fell, winded.

“Which of my generals taught you to fight?”

Val struggled to her feet, beginning to get her breath back. “You did,” she spat. “Everything I learned was from watching you and Thor.”

Odin’s eyes widened. “You hate me, don’t you? You blame me for the loss of your sisters.”

“You knew we couldn’t win at Ragnarök, and you sent us against Surtr anyway. Everyone knew the prophecy, but you didn’t care. You didn’t even care if your own son Thor died. All you cared about was your greed.” Val flew at him and threw a left hook. The swing caught him in the jaw with a crack. His head whipped to the right, and she punched him again, throwing his head in the other direction. Golden blood seeped from his lip.

She swung again and struck him in the nose. Blood splattered her, further enraging her. She hit him again, and again, and again. Each time she expected him to fight back. To throw her again. To put up his hands and defend himself. Something. Anything. But he didn’t.

He let her punch him. Face. Stomach. Kidneys. Ribs. Face. Stomach. Stomach. Ribs. Ribs. Ribs. The anger poured out of her as she pummeled him. Her arms ached, and her body shook, but she continued to punch him until his entire face swole up and blood dripped freely from every wound.

“Fight back! Why won’t you fight back?”

Punch to the nose.

His face may be swollen and puffy, but his eyes remained clear and knowing.

“Hit me!”

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