Elle’s cheeks flushed with heat. “I’m sorry, Lady Frigg, I-”
“Frigg. I am merely Frigg now. And you have worked for me for a month. You are safe here. Relax.” Frigg placed a warm hand on Elle’s arm and smiled at her in a way that made Elle’s chest constrict. It was the kind, gentle smile of a mother. One Elle had always imagined her own mother would give her if she had lived.
“Of course, Frigg. I’m sorry.”
“Do not apologize. You’ve done nothing wrong.”
Elle nodded.
Frigg pulled Elle close and kissed her forehead. “My darling child, I look forward to the day when you no longer cower in fear. The day you realize your true potential. Come. Let me sit you at a table and have someone bring you some mead.”
“Oh, thank you, but Val is already at a table.”
Frigg nodded and linked arms with Elle. “I know, but as she is busy at the moment, why don’t you wait until she is done before rejoining her?”
Elle wanted to object, but before she could answer, Frigg pulled out a chair for her and sat her at a table near Val and a dark-haired man wearing a lion mask.
“Stay right here. I’ll find you a drink.” Frigg patted her shoulder and walked toward the bar.
Elle popped a grape into her mouth and scanned the room. People mingled and chatted. Several sat alone at tables, waiting for something or someone.
Elle grabbed a peach slice and chewed it as she pressed down her black skirt, though it had not a single wrinkle.
The soothing sounds of music floated over to her, the melodies foreign and bright. All the music on Muspelheim had been crude, boisterous, and tinged with anger. This music was completely opposite. Slow and light with hints of playfulness. She inspected the small raised platform where a dozen people dressed in white and wearing gold masks played various instruments. Some with buttons, others with strings, and one that someone hit with fabric-looking mallets. The sounds worked in harmony, lulling her into a cocoon of safety.
“I was asked to bring you this.” A large hand came into view, holding a mug of mead.
Elle jumped and looked up and up and up into the bright blue eyes, framed by a golden goat mask.
CHAPTER THREE
Elle's nerves coiled tighter with each step the man took towards her, almost springing her from her seat. Her hands trembled as she fixed her gaze on him- butterflies staging a rebellion in her stomach, making it hard for her to catch a full breath.
"My Lady," he said, his voice velvety and calming. "Your mead?"
She froze, unable to nod in response. He placed the mug on the table and took a step back, allowing his presence to recede enough for Elle to breathe again. The atmosphere between them thick as spiderwebs spun by the Fates themselves. He brushed aside an unruly curl obscuring his vivid aqua eyes, framed by long lashes, watching her with a fascinating intensity.
Heat pulsed in her veins, and her magic swirled in her gut, making her tense.
She couldn’t place his subtle scent, which reminded Elle of mountain air after rain, crisp and invigorating. The earthy aroma of the honeyed mead wafted up, warm and inviting, teasing with promises of liquid courage.
Though she couldn’t see his entire face, he was the most handsome being she’d ever seen. Tall and broad-shouldered but trim at the waist. Not like her father’s men, who were built like giant rectangular blocks of concrete.
The faint pulsing thrummed inside her at the sight of him. Warm and alive. It stretched out, making her tingle all over.
“May I join you?” he asked, his voice rolling like thunder.
Elle found her wits and nodded.
The chair across from her pulled out and creaked under the weight of his heavy frame. His hand clunked against the tabletop as his various silver rings hit it.
She recognized one of the rings, and her gut clenched. Terror flooded over her like a bucket of ice. The urge to flee rooted inside Elle as her heart hammered. It couldn’t be. This could not be happening, and yet it was. There was no mask in all the universes that could hide his identity. Ozone. That was his scent. Ozone and electricity, like a lightning storm. And his eyes… those bright blue eyes and blond hair… He could only be one person.
Thor Odinson- God of Thunder.
Lady Frigg and Loki had gotten her out of Muspelheim, but somehow seeing Thor, her father's immortal enemy, made her want to run back. Word had it he hated both fire and ice giants alike. That he would rather kill them than breathe the same air they did. But here she sat, a half fire giant, across from the one man who possibly hated her more than her father did.
Her magic rose in her veins, and she clenched her fists tight to keep it from unleashing. She'd only ever used it when training with Val, and her magic was unpredictable at best. Plus, she had no intention of disrespecting Lady Frigg or her home by setting it on fire.
