Vampire: Loki/Thor x Reader
Part Eleven
Unbeknownst to you, a day and a half passes. Suddenly cold, you wake. You stare at the wall for a few seconds, not sure what you’re seeing. The wall isn’t that of the basement, or any other room in the house. It’s far more…natural. Stone, with small bits of dried moss clinging to it.
Still trying to pull yourself from the dizzying comfort of the dream you’d been having, you rub your eyes fiercely.
“Oh, good, you’re awake.”
You turn to the left, towards where the blast of cold had come from. Thor stands in the entryway, smiling. Snow flecks his shoulders and hair, and he’s carrying a rucksack. His shirt appears to have been torn in several places—by a dagger, or claws, you guess. A well-fed black wolf pokes its head into the room. Thor glances down and pats its head.
The wolf enters, curling up beside you, as tame as a dog.
You swallow hard, willing the butterflies in your stomach to calm. “Hi?”
“You must be hungry.” Thor sits next to you—you realize you’re on a low mattress, still in your pajamas, and clutching a wool blanket—and begins taking food out of the sack. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I took pizza, fried rice, and a sandwich.”
Uncomprehending, you just stare at him. This doesn’t help your nervousness, but you don’t mind. “W-what?”
“I saved you.” Thor grins and sidles closer. His arm goes around your shoulders.
For a moment, you consider shoving him away. That thought leaves your mind almost as soon as it enters. You lean against him, looking down at the food. “From what?”
“My brother.”
“Loki?”
Thor smirks. “Do I have another brother I don’t know about?”
For the life of you, you just can’t recall anything after going to bed. “What time is it?”
“Near midnight.” Thor leans his head against yours. “He tried to kill you, you know.”
“He did what?” For some reason, you’re not surprised. Just…curious.
“I called you to me, do you remember?”
You frown. You recall having a dream about walking through the house, and…
You blush and wrap your arms around your knees. “You fed from me?” That explains your lack of unease around the obviously predatory vampire, you suppose. There was a bit of lore—
“Yes.”
Thor’s voice derails your train of thought. Half-smiling, you wrap an arm around him. “Oh.” Forgetting the previous topic, you giggle as he nuzzles your ear. “I suppose that means I’m stuck with you.”
“Of course.” He runs his hand down your back. “So…are you hungry?”
“Are you?” You lay your head across his lap.
Thor laughs and fingers your neck, his dark eye glinting. “Not yet.” He leans down for a kiss.
You gladly reciprocate.
***
Loki comes to with a moan. His eyes are shut—whether swollen or bandaged, he can’t tell—and he feels like he’s sitting in a furnace.
“Hold still, you’re pretty tore up.”
Seeing no other recourse, he complies. When the pain passes enough for him to focus a bit, he asks, “Who are you?”
“A friend.” The female speaker scoffs. “At the moment, anyways. If you can explain a few things to me, things’ll stay that way.”
She presses something icy cold against his skin. It feels better than the heat, but the resulting pain makes him lurch up and shout. The shout is partly from pain, and partly from the instinctual fear of revealing his Jotun side.
“Oh hush.” Surprisingly large, firm hands shove him down. “You’re getting blood all over your living room.”
Loki strains his ears, trying to tell where he is. He hears the crackle of fire, the rustling movements of cloth and suture, and his own labored breathing. “What happened?”
“I was hoping you could tell me, mister grave digger.”
His thoughts flash back to a few days before, when he had disposed of the bodies of the hunters that Thor killed. I knew I should have burned them.
Warily, he asked, “What do you know?”
“Only that the sister of my best friend came to your house, hasn’t been seen since, and that said house looks like a heavily armed berserker went through it.” Her tone was flat, with only a hint of accusation. “Oh, and you had dealings with a vampire. That much is obvious from all the silver and herbs you have spread around your place.”
“Are you a hunter, as well?”
“Ha! No, no, no.”
Something cold pressed against his eyes. The speaker holds it there. Loki feels her face come close to his ear.
“So.” Her voice holds a slight hiss. “Where is —?” She names the girl that Loki hired.
“Gone. My brother took her.” He recalled the fight--fast, fierce, and bloody--surprised that the house was still standing.
“Oh, no. Tell me you didn’t turn someone.”
“Fine. I didn’t turn someone.”
“Of all the idiotic…” The pressure holding the ice pack moves away, and the sound of pacing—plus the shifting of glass and carpet—echoes in the room. “Endymion. He turned your brother?”
I see no point in hiding this information at this point…
“Yes.”
She gives an exasperated sigh. “I’m sorely tempted to undo all of my stitching and let you bleed out. I won’t. Just know that I would love to.”
Loki sighs. “What folly have I committed this time?” He feels well enough to sit up. Holding the pack against his eyes, he does so.
“Do you know where they went?” she asks, ignoring his question.
Ignoring her question, he asks, “May I ask who I’m addressing?”
The cold pack is snatched away, and fingers press none too gently against his swollen lids. The familiar feel of healing magic seeps through his face, and he finds that he can open his eyes. Blinking, he can’t help but stare at the woman standing in his partly demolished living room.
She is toned, on the verge of being buff, and tall. Very tall. If he stood, he didn’t doubt that he would be forced to look up to meet her eyes. Her skin is pale, though perhaps that is the darkness and shadows of the fire, for the rest of her is dark as night; her eyes, lips, hair. She wears a simple, sturdy pair of jeans, and a fitted maroon colored v-neck. By the moonlight coming in through the broken doors, Loki spies a black jacket with an unfamiliar symbol hanging on the coat rack.
She crosses her arms. This accentuates the fullness of her breasts. “Are you through ogling me?” she snaps, shifting her stance to lean against a table.
Loki glances down. “My apologies. You are a vampire, as well?” He glances at the thick, decorative silver, cross-designed edging on the table. Her fingers press against it, and she is seemingly unaffected.
“Mmm-hmm. Name’s Delilah.” She taps the table rhythmically.
Loki clears his throat. “Would you mind telling me about Endymion?”
“Yes, I would mind very much. Even though he’s the sort that should meet a painful end, I’m not sure how much I can tell you without jeopardizing myself, and others like me.”
“Then how can you help?”
“By finding your brother.”
“What do you plan to do when you find him?”
Delilah’s firm expression softens into a half-frown. “I’m gong to have to, you know, end him. If he’s been turned by Endymion, he needs to be killed before he passes the fledgling stage.”
“Even if he still shows signs of his…humanity?” Loki resists the urge to chuckle at the last word.
“Hmm.” Delilah taps her chin. “That might be possible…” She glances over her shoulder. “I’ll do what I can. The only thing I need to borrow is a silver mirror. Do you have one pocket-sized?”
“I’m afraid not. The smallest one I have is about the size of a dinner plate.”
“That’ll work.” She grips his shoulder. “Do I have your word that you’ll stay here, and won’t interfere?”
Loki looks up at her, fully intending to lie. “Of cou—”
Her eyes—a shade of jade very close to black, he realizes—fill his vision. A hazy relaxation creeps over him. He blinks, then closes his eyes, trying to break eye contact. That is a mistake; the haze engulfs him, and he can still see her eyes. Just her eyes. His head lolls.
“Sorry.” She nudges his shoulder. Without a sound, he flops back onto the couch. “You’ll thank me later.”
Her voice fades as Loki loses consciousness.
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