The God and the Siren (Loki Romance)

Chapter Twenty-Five

Almost every day for the past several weeks, Loki's been walking back with me from the studio. It was a little disconcerting at first, to be so burdensome, but I think we both look forward to it now—that little bit of downtime at the end of the day, when we can stroll through downtown.

He becomes easier and easier to talk to with each passing day, and resultantly, I've been learning more about Asgard and some of their heritage. Though I've yet to learn much about his history with Thor—why that tension continues to linger between them. I would never press for that insight of course, that can come in its own time—if at all.

Today's the first night in quite some time that he won't be walking me home—some prior commitment he'd had with the other Asgardians. He wanted me to wait, but it would've been three extra hours of sitting around in the studio. I decided it wasn't worth it, especially since the apartment really isn't all that far from the studio. Perks of living in a city.

Admittedly, I almost feel naked walking around the streets without him. Like some essential part of my routine—of me—has suddenly gone missing, and the streets seem a little bit quieter without him, despite the fact that they're just as busy and bustling as they always are. A twinge of sadness tugs at my chest the entire way back, serving no other purpose than being outrageously annoying and putting me in a sour mood.

It leaves me annoyed at everything, really—even the weather. The nights are getting warmer, and I should've known better than to wear such a heavy coat. I huff frustratedly as I turn a corner down a smaller street—two minutes away from the apartment—and let my purse string drop down to my elbow as I start taking off the jacket. Plenty of room to stretch my arms out to do so on this street, as I leave behind one crowd to approach the next one on the other side, between the buildings.

A sudden jerk against the string makes me gasp.

Before I can look to my left, a pair of fingers bear down on some point in my shoulder that blows the consciousness straight out of me.

"Let Alastair know we've got her..." I hear a voice as my vision fades to black.

***

Alastair.

It's the first word to appear in my mind as I slowly come to. The ground is hard against my backside, but as I drift slowly out of sleep, it seems much more comfortable than it actually is. At least, until I'm more awake—then the aching parts of my body slowly rear their angry heads, letting me know just how uncomfortably I've been laying in this place.

This place... What is this place?

I lift myself up off the floor of what looks like a cell, propping myself against the ground with my elbow as I look around. A tall glass door is before me, and the cell itself is an ambient blue, with nothing but a bench built into the wall behind me.

I shift over and lay a hand on it, slowly lifting myself onto it. A beeping noise catches my attention, coming from the wall beyond the glass, and I look up to see a small heart monitor built into the wall. A flashing blue light draws my attention back down to my arm, where I notice the smallest device lodged against the skin of my wrist.

Not a moment later, voices start to sound in the hallway—followed by footsteps. My pulse quickens sharply as they approach, and I straighten up against the wall, lifting my foot up onto the bench to push against it.

The plain, dark room beyond the glass yields a pair of sliding doors that open on the other side, and two men stride in through it—eyeing me intently amidst their hushed conversation.

One is wearing a lab coat, while the other a suit—I don't recognize either of them, and my eyes jump between their faces as they murmur quietly to each other before turning to me.