Chapter 7
Shyla
Now that the haze of irritation and arousal are lifted from a good night’s sleep - courtesy of the stalker god-my brain syncs with my body. I don’t need a test or a doctor for a diagnosis. I feel it in my bones. I’m pregnant. I don’t remember ever being pregnant and I doubt I have children since evidence would have surfaced by now, but I’m consumed with a deep, aching sadness. Curling into a ball, I pull the cover over my head and cry out my sorrow and frustration.
My body shakes with my sobs until I’m wondering if it’s an overreaction of my hormones or if the sadness is a result of something my brain refuses to reveal. My feelings and memories are out of sync. I’d pull my hair out if it meant finding an explanation why some things trigger the partial despair I find myself feeling at random times.
I’m torn between demanding answers from Iam and fearing the truth. I hiccup before the next round of sobs as I try to eliminate reasons for my distress. It’s not money. I seem to make more than enough to support myself and a child. The father of my child is a god who swears he loves me so it’s not like it’d be wanting for anything.
As infuriating at Iam is, it’s not him. I already know he’d be hard to shake even if I weren’t pregnant. The lack of answers makes me want to claw at my skin like I have a phantom itch. I’m seconds from getting up tothrow shit when calm washes over me. My crying subsides to sniffles. I uncurl myself and lie on my stomach as I stare out of the window. I’m completely alone but feel a soothing sensation like my back is being rubbed until I drift back to sleep.
∞∞∞
Loki
Sigyn’s irritation is cute, her anger amuses me, but her sadness always hurts me even when I’m not the direct cause. With all my power and plans, I was still unable to prevent the biggest heartbreak of her life. Worse, I wasn’t in the position to shoulder the pain or take away the sadness like I’m able to do now.
Instead, I was chained to rocks, helpless and heartbroken with no recourse but to internalize my rage. Through her tears, Sigyn stayed by my side collecting venom to protect me when it was my job to protect her. The intestines of our son were turned into iron to imprison me, and due to her devotion, my wife. I wasn’t there for her. I couldn’t be. Revenge plots cluttered my mind and overrode all other thoughts until even she and her gentle loyalty infuriated me. She didn’t deserve to be stuck under the earth with me, straining her arms to collect venom. Sigyn deserved to be home or somewhere luxurious with the peace to mourn our sons. Yet no insult would make her leave. Sigyn’s ability to see me and love be despite my flaws broke my heart. I was the most hated and could no longer give her what she needed.
I’d grown accustomed to my children being misunderstood and abused by the others, but Nari wasn’t like them, his presence wasn’t fearsome nor was he named in any prophecies for the destruction of the gods or Asgard. He posed no threat. What I did to protect Asgard was between Baldr and me. Despite what they felt, he was not fit to rule next.What kind of leader would he be when he could be killed by a fucking plant?Strategically I did them a favor and they thanked me by ruining my family.
Erasing her memory was a chance for us to start anew but her strong devotion still has her weeping for the unknown. She cries for the sons she doesn’t know she’s lost. I’ve taken this sorrow and restored her ability to rest but I’m uneasy. Instead of just seeing her pain, I feel it flowing though by blood, pushing tears from my eyes. Scabs fall off the old wounds causing them to bleed again, badly. This is why humans are so irrational. Their emotions are overpowering.
My items float around my home as the darkness envelops me. I’d kill them again if I hadn’t joined forces with my first set of kids and fucked it up for everyone. Good luck having a throne without a kingdom. I’d shown them plenty of times, but they didn’t take heed.
You. Can’t. Out. Petty. Loki.
My now black hair brushes my knuckles giving me a clue to what extent I’m allowing it to flow. With a furious growl, I turn into a huge black jaguar and stalk around the penthouse.
It’s going to take days to find my sense of humor.
∞∞∞
Shyla
I’ve spent the past three days coming to terms with my pregnancy and half-expecting Iam to show up and feeling oddly disappointed when he doesn’t. Seeing him again is a less fearful thing and having him deny me of the one thing he’d always given me has me confused. I’m trying my hand at pregnancy yoga because I feel I’ll need to be best friends with my center to deal with my future baby daddy.
My phone ringing knocks me out of my zone. Giving up, I leave my position on the floor and check to see who’s calling. Being dropped into life doesn’t allow a girl to have many friends.
“Hello?” I answer cautiously since I don’t recognize the number.
“Hi. May I speak with Ms. Shyla Warren?”
“Speaking.”
“Ah. Hello. I’m Gerald Beacham, the building manager for the penthouses owned by Iam Lokey. I haven’t been about to contact him, and other tenants have expressed concern for a pet he may have.”
Pet? He’s his own pet.“What’s the concern?”
“The building has a restriction of no pets over ninety-nine pounds and the neighbors below them report that not only does it sound bigger than allowed but it roared at them when they knocked on the door.” His voice drops to a whisper. “I’m not saying Mrs. Jensen isn’t a busybody, but we cannot handle exotic pets. Especially if it’s a big cat.”
“Quick question. How did you get my number and what’s in place for me to be the contact?”
“Um…” His voice trails off as papers rustle on his side. “You’re listed as his next of kin and emergency contact in his paperwork.”
“Of course, I am. Will you be able to let me in once I get there? I’ve misplaced my key.”
“Absolutely. So, you’re trained to handle big cats?”
