Adverse Effects

Chapter 9

The lights flickered off for the night, the same old routine of the day.

Granted, this week had been easier to bear than the last two years.

Rebecca had become accustomed to Loki's conversation, talking of her home and childhood. Loki, ever the showman, delighted in provoking astonished smiles from her with illusions and conjuring.

They ate together, he transporting a portion of his more palatable meal over to replace her meagre one. He asked about her treatment at the hands of the guards. He had never used his powers to harm her again.

She lay on her mattress now, eyes closed, thinking about him.

She loved to watch his long, deft fingers curling around the magic that flowed from them, twisting it to his will. The calmness that washed over his face as he focused on controlling the energy within him. He was truly at peace when spell-casting, she had noted.

She let her mind slip to other thoughts. Thoughts that had, with increasing frequency, been creeping to the fore of her reveries.

Those captivating fingers, trailing fire on her skin, running down her belly, her thighs. His hands moving over her, raising goose-flesh wherever they went. Never mind the sun, the trees, how long had it been since she had felt any of this?

Her imagination took hold, growing vivid and intense.

His lips at her collarbone, his teeth softly grazing her skin. The laces of her corset yielding to his touch, the enticing caress of his breath at her ear.

By the nine, even in her imagination, he left her breathless.

A sound brought her back to reality.

A metallic hum, soft but, to ears trained by two years of rigid nightly routine, different enough to warrant alertness.

With a rustle it ceased.

The only sound that remained was her breath and the heartbeat that pounded in her ears.

She tentatively rose on her elbows, straining to see through the gloom.

Nothingness... but a sense of the room being fuller... more occupied.

Before she could react, a cold hand clamped firmly over her lips, stifling any scream she might have made. She fell back against the mattress, grasping at the arm that pinned her, but frozen with fear and realization.

The guard who flogged her.

Here to exact his threatened punishment. Well, she'd be damned if she'd give him the satisfaction of giving in without a fight.

She raised her knee to meet his side, striking against leather armour and knowing immediately that it had had near to no effect. She squirmed beneath him and raised a hand to claw at his face, but it was caught in another icy grip.

“Easy my little tigress, or you might hurt yourself.”

A whisper at her ear.

Loki was in her cell.