Page 30 of Loki

Her eyes narrowed. “This isn’t your way to get me into bed, is it?”

He sighed. “When are you going to trust me?”

She chewed the inside of her cheek. “Trust isn’t something which comes naturally to me. All the people I’ve trusted died on me. I’ve had to learn to rely on no one but myself.”

“Well, how about if you give me one small inch of trust and sit on the bed and let me check you over? No funny stuff. We both know if I try anything, you’ll pummel me like you did Odin. Here.” He pulled out her blades and handed them to her. “You can stab me if I try anything.”

She didn’t move for a second, and then she walked to him and sat on the bed. She removed the towel from her back and shoulders and shimmied the second towel down around her hips. He took in the sight of her scarred skin. Battle wounds marred every inch: some deep, some shallow. One had been crudely stitched up near her spine. He reached out, but her wings sprouted from her back and unfurled. They should have been pristine white, and full like clouds, but they weren’t. Dozens of the feathers were broken off or missing. The ones that remained were dingy, and the light which should have emanated from them had diminished due to years of neglect.

“When was the last time you tended to them?”

“Before Ragnarök.”

“What?” Loki couldn’t believe she hadn’t done anything to her wings in so long.

“After Ragnarök, I had to keep them hidden, or Surtr and his men would fracture them. And from there, we went to Midgard. I haven’t found any places to fly around and stretch. You know, because of all the humans who can’t fly and stuff.”

Loki stroked her wings softly. They twitched and trembled beneath his fingers.

“Am I hurting you?”

She shook her head. “I’ve not had someone touch my wings exceedingly long.”

He wondered how long it had been since she’d let someone touch any part of her before him. Had Surtr’s men forced themselves on her? Loki shoved the thought away before his rage took over.

“We should remove the broken quills so you can heal, and they can grow back. The broken feathers, we should trim down the damaged areas. And you should let me rub them with some oil to help protect and rebuild them.”

To his surprise, she agreed.

He was about to ask if she meant it but was afraid she’d change her mind if he did.

He gently pulled the broken quills from the skin for the next hour. Cut down the damaged feathers. And finally, applied oil to every feather where it met the skin. Throughout the whole ordeal, Val didn’t say a word. She just stared at the movie on the television. When he finished, he stroked her shoulders, and she folded her wings.

“You should leave them out for the night if you can sleep with them. Let them breathe.”

She nodded, and her eyelids drooped.

“Here.” Loki walked to a closet and pulled out a pair of sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. “You can put these on. I’ll cut the back of the t-shirt so your wings have room. And I’ll have your clothes washed for you.”

“You don’t need to do that,” she murmured.

He smiled at her. “I know. I’ll be back. Don’t leave.”

She nodded.

Loki gathered her clothes and underwear as well as her boots. He walked out and waited, worried she might try to run for it. He’d asked her to trust him, though, so he needed to trust her in return.

Loki strode down the tunnel to a split and turned left. He walked down another tunnel and stopped next to a metal door. He knocked, and it swung inward. The scent of fresh laundry and a cloud of humidity wafted out to him.

“Put them in the basket,” someone called through the steam. “When do you need them back?”

“Morning,” he replied.

“Will do.”

Loki placed Val’s stuff into the basket, and the basket floated upward into the steam. He turned back to the room. The closer he got, the more he worried she’d taken off in his absence. But when he opened the door, she sat on the corner of the bed. She’d already cut the back of the t-shirt, which hung loosely around her arms.

“I should go home. Check on Elle,” she said without conviction.

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