Page 18 of Thor

Yes. He was her protector. The cold air could kill as surely as any blade, as he well knew. He should have protected her better on the journey.

He should have found something better for her bed than the thin silks she currently shivered beneath. She needed furs, or at least fine wool. The best he could offer her was his cloak, so he unfastened it and spread it over her. Better, but still not enough.

Her sleeping silks had a fastening similar to the one at the entrance to the tent. Thor hooked a finger through the loop and dragged it downward, so the silks parted at the seam. Inside, she wore underthings that were not much thicker than the silks. Underthings that covered her body even as they clung to it, leaving little to the imagination.

He wanted to stare, to drink in her beauty, but he did not dare. Not yet.

Instead, he climbed inside the silks beside her, and tugged the magical fastener back into place.

"What are you doing? There isn't room for two of us in my sleeping bag!" she protested.

Sadly, she was right – no amount of magic would stretch the fabric around his broad shoulders, but it didn't need to, as long as he put his body between hers and the cold.

Now to warm her in earnest.

Thor took a deep breath, leaned forward, and pressed his lips to hers.

TWENTY-ONE

The sensible part of Sibyl's head said there was no way His Norse Hotness would fit in her sleeping bag, but as he crowded in beside her, she had to admit that maybe it was possible. He was her hallucination, after all, and if she was going to freeze to death tonight, then spending her final moments pressed up against the hard body of a man who'd make even a Hemsworth green with envy seemed like a pretty good way to go.

So when his surprisingly warm lips touched hers, she surrendered to what had to be a dream. Because no real, human man could possibly kiss like that. Gentle at first, but insistent, as her lips moulded to, then moved with his. He tasted of glacier ice and ozone, every bit the Norse God of Thunder, but the scent of woodsmoke clung to him, too, as though he'd just stepped out of a Viking longhouse, to appear a thousand years into the future in her bed, cold as it was.

Not so cold now.

One huge hand cupped her cheek, as the other stroked her hair, his burning touch igniting fire trails deep within her.

Down and down and down, his hands stroked, coaxing life back into her numb fingers as his hands engulfed hers.

With every stroke of his hands, he awoke more of her, riding out the pins and needles that turned to painful tingles before she was almost purring like a cat. And, just like any self-satisfied cat, she wanted more.

Her thermal shirt rode up a little, baring her tummy to his touch. The sear of his skin against hers felt almost electric. She wouldn't have been surprised to see a shower of sparks in the darkness. If he'd only slide his hand up a little further and cup her breast.

But he had other ideas, his fingers questing lower.

"Yes, Thor, please," she breathed, hardly daring to hope.

But he was her hallucination, wasn't he?

Hot, calloused fingers crept beneath her waistband, unerringly seeking her aching core. His first stroke across her clit set all her nerve endings alight.

"Yessss..."

He'd taken her from numbing cold to feeling everything, trembling from the sheer sensation of his hands on her, and she wanted more.

She reached for his belt, determined to free him, as her first orgasm hit. More powerful than any lightning strike, he left her stunned, barely able to breathe or even see, even as she felt a second one building. The second swept her away, leaving her gasping, hot on the heels of an impossible third one, bigger and better than anything she'd ever felt before. Before...before...

She came to, half sobbing, with her face pressed against his rock hard chest. She wasn't sure whether to beg for more, or if her body would explode if he touched her again.

"Sleep, Sibyl, my sweet mistress. I shall keep you warm until dawn, with my cloak wrapped around us both. I will protect you for as long as you desire," he whispered, pressing his lips to her forehead.

Always and forever, she thought, but didn't say, as she drifted into blissful sleep.

TWENTY-TWO

Sibyl packed her swag up with ruthless efficiency in the morning. Thor, with his magic hands and warm cloak, had disappeared before the first rays of dawn filtered through the fabric of her tent, and Jakop wasn't acting any differently, so he likely hadn't heard her and Thor last night.

Well, just her, really, seeing as he was a figment of her overactive imagination. When meant what had happened could only be called masturbation, she told herself. Something any healthy woman did in the absence of a suitable partner to help her. And if that partner was her imaginary friend...

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