A dual pov narrative from both main characters-Loki and Annalise. If you enjoy slow burn, immersive stories, with a good plot and the long awaited spice, then stop your search. Here is the story for you!
As the newly crowned king of Jotunheim, Loki...
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As our lips remain locked, both of our eyes widen, though for different reasons. The queen is taken aback by my unexpected action, while I'm overwhelmed by the intense sensations that surge through me the moment I cheekily slip my tongue into her mouth.
I'm not just kissing her—I'm claiming ownership. Let's see how long it takes before her king appears, enraged that I hold his queen's mouth hostage.
I'm not typically one to take advantage of a woman, but in this case, can anyone blame me? The rare opportunity to taste a forbidden queen is too tempting to resist. The urge to claim just a little more of her grows too strong to deny, and as her velvety lips continue mingling with mine, I slide my tongue deeper. It's a power play, an act of sheer possession, and one I fully intend to savor.
It's peculiar. Just moments ago, I was fighting to protect my tongue from her grasp, and now I find myself offering it willingly, even eagerly.
But she may have it.
Not just this piece of me, but all of me.
Naturally, she resists. Her instinct to defend herself is fierce, as I anticipated. She struggles against the kiss, her fists balling up as they pound on my shoulders, yanking at my hair with a force that nearly brings tears to my eyes.
Any gentleman would recoil at her fierce fight, but I'm no gentleman in this moment. I am a beast—a savage Jotun who refuses to back down, especially since she chose to start this one on one confrontation.
My grip tightens around her waist, and I deepen the kiss, pushing her mouth harder against mine, undeterred by her resistance. Every punch, every tug of my hair is just another reminder of the fire burning between us. And as her protests grow more frantic, I close my eyes, surrendering to a vivid fantasy where she kisses me back. In this fantasy, we stand on a windswept cliff, surrounded by fields of vibrant flowers, the scene painted with a soft, romantic glow. There's no struggle, no defiance—just us, lost in each other, our lips meeting in a shared moment of passion.
But the dream shatters in an instant. A searing pain shoots through my mouth, yanking me back to reality. My eyes snap open, and I release her at once, the sudden agony forcing me to let go. She stumbles to the floor, her breathing heavy, and I stare at her in disbelief, horrified to see blood smeared across her lips.
Panic floods my mind. "Did I... did I hurt you?" I ask, dropping to my knees beside her, my voice shaky with concern.
She glares up at me, wiping the blood from her lips, her expression defiant. "Hurt me? Oh, how you wish," she snaps, a mocking glint in her eyes.
I frown, my confusion deepening. What does she mean? It's not until she casually wipes her mouth that I realise—it isn't her blood. It's mine.
Instinctively, I run my fingers over my lips, then touch my tongue, the sharp sting confirming what my mind already knows.
