Winning Freyja's Cloak_A Short Erotic Fantasy with Loki by Samantha MacLeod

Author:Samantha MacLeod [MacLeod, Samantha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: erotic fantasy, Norse, erotica, Loki Norse Mythology, Norse Mythology
Publisher: Vestal Valley Press
Published: 2018-06-20T04:00:00+00:00

Excerpt from The Trickster’s Lover

The Sem Guði Hátíð was slow going as my two windows rattled in their panes and cold rain streaked the glass. The lights flickered but stayed on; Chicago knew how to handle a storm. The only dictionary I’d managed to find translated Icelandic into French, so I had a second dictionary to translate the French into English. Some of the dictionary entries were supremely unhelpful, offering that the translation for the French preposition “de” could be “of, to, from, by, with, than, at, off,” and, under some circumstances, “out of.”

There were familiar characters in the Sem Guði Hátíð , like Óðinn, Thor, and Loki, but there was also plenty of ambiguity. Haf, for instance. According to my Icelandic-to-French dictionary, this meant “ocean,” but was this the actual ocean? Was it the name of the god of the ocean? Or was it meant as a description, an attempt to evoke the vast size of the feast hall? Sometimes I was almost certain I’d understood a full sentence, but mostly it was like feeling my way through an unfamiliar room with the lights turned off.

It was fascinating.

I told myself I’d only work until midnight. When midnight came I made another cup of tea and said I would only work until one in the morning. Now the clock above my tiny half-oven blinked quarter to two, and I ignored it.

“Girnud,” I muttered to myself, trying out the words. I rolled them on my tongue, imagining Viking ships and longhouses, imagining woodsmoke, the spray of salt from the ocean.

“Girnud, löngun.”

And then I was no longer alone in my apartment.

There was, perhaps, a crackle of electricity in the air, a quick gust of cold on the back of my neck, like a melting snowflake.

I looked up from the table. There was a very tall man standing in the middle of my apartment. I stood and stumbled backward, bumping awkwardly against the wall. Our eyes met, and my breath caught in my throat. He was unreasonably attractive.

“Uh, hi?” I stammered, staring at his full lips and long, fiery red hair.

He smiled, and my heart surged. Damn, what a smile. I fought the insane urge to smile back and tore my eyes off him, glancing at the door to my apartment. It was still closed, bolted, with the chain drawn. How did...?

I turned back to him, and he moved a step closer. He wore strange clothes; they looked like leather, black with streaks of gold and red, with an enormous cloak rippling behind him. His fingers were delicate, and his ice-blue eyes seemed to be laughing. He bent toward me, so close our lips were almost touching. So close I could smell him. Woodsmoke. Salt spray. Cold, and leather.

“Hello,” he whispered, his breath warm on my neck.

My skin prickled, and I trembled as my body flushed with heat. I swallowed and tried to think. It’s the middle of the night, I told myself. And there’s a strange man in your apartment. I turned

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