Fairest Son by Hannah Williams: Giveaway

Hannah Williams is having a giveaway for her book, Fairest Son! Click the link to head to her blog, and the post about the giveaway.
She has a bunch of other cool posts and book reviews on her blog; it's worth a read-through.

A bit about the book:

Click to head to Amazon!

Blurb from Amazon:

The Fair and Foul courts of the fey folk have long yearned for one to bring them together in peace, but hopes are dashed when the fairest prince and the prophecy concerning him are laid to ruin. Burdened with shame and sorrow, the prince flees to the cold mountains far above the forests and lochs with nothing but animals and goblins for company.

When a human huntress stumbles upon him in her search for a legendary predator, their fates are intertwined. But she hides deadly secrets, and if he dares to trust her, he may risk the doom of both courts to an ancient evil...

A Novella Retelling of Snow White

I've been wanting to get a copy of this for a while (I want a physical copy, it's so pretty and I've been dying to read some of her writing since I first heard about Moonscript), but I haven't had to put in any physical book orders recently. :(

So this is a Rafflecopter giveaway, and open for a few more days. Click the link and enter the giveaway! (Or you know, don't, so I have a better chance at winning... ;P)

Reblog- Hazel West's Character Purgatory: Holding Out For a Hero: The Death of Male (and Fem...

Hazel West's Character Purgatory: Holding Out For a Hero: The Death of Male (and Fem...: I recently finished reading  Bridge of Clay by Markus Zusak and found myself struck with just how different this book was from so man...

Rapunzel Retelling: Renewal of Spirit

Just a quick update on the status of this story:

Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to get it done in time for the Arista Challenge. February was way busier than I thought it would be.
Thankfully, I’m almost done now. I’m still planning on publishing it, and I’d like to try out a GiraffeCraft critique, but I’ll probably wait to submit it until Kendra’s a little less busy. Don’t want to overwhelm her, what with her likely being in the middle of arranging things for said Arista Challenge. 💗

The story has gone through a couple of drafts plot-wise (and organization-wise), but I’m still not happy with it prose-wise. I wanted to focus more on describing the music, and the effects it has in this world (it’s basically the way magic works). However, I’m having a hard time deciding where to put these descriptions in (sometimes it’s obvious, and I’ve put that in). So I’m going to leave it somewhat bare, and ask my betas where they think it should go/would like a little more description.

Currently, I’m working on the last quarter-ish of the story. Progress is slightly stalled, as some changes I made in the last few scenes wrecked my plans for this section. I think I have them worked out; here’s hoping I can sit down at the computer tomorrow and hammer them out. :D

Rapunzel Retelling: Renewal of Spirit!

I've reworked my Rapunzel retelling for the Arista Challenge several times. Something just didn't feel right, but I think it's fixed now. Here are the first thousand-ish words! Let me know what you think. :D
Also, the Loki/Thor x Reader (along with all my other misc. projects) is going to be on hold. The deadline for this and my Tales of a Modern Bard entry are rapidly approaching. So these take priority. Here's hoping I can get them both done in time... 😓
---
Loredana tilted her head back, eyeing the laden boughs above her head. very day, since they’d settled in this new land, the laden boughs of the fruit trees taunted her. They seemed to call, Can’t reach us! Just try!
Every day she passed by, the thought of how delicious and juicy the fruit would be played in her mind.
“If it were any closer to the Turning,” she growled to the ripe fruit, “I would shake you from your tree right now.”
Her husband Lando came up the path and toyed with her pale hair. “If it were any closer to Turning, you would be playing the zephyr and not caring for fruit.”
Loredana huffed and pulled away. “I will taste those plums, you’ll see.”
Lando sighed. He wondered what scheme his wife would devise to get what she wanted. “I hope she finds something else,” he muttered to himself. “With my luck, her plan would involve me getting it for her.”
“Oh! My love, look!” Loredana’s feet beat against the ground excitedly, as if she were standing in place. “Will you get this for me?”
Eyebrows drawn in a long-suffering frown, Lando continued up the path and rounded the bend. “What is—” He stopped short, breath taken away by what he saw.
The first thing he noticed was a large, golden tree. Its pale leaves and ocher flowers hung down to the ground on thin, wavering branches. Though there was no wind, the willow fluttered as if being toyed with. The very air around it seemed to sparkle.
The second thing Lando noticed was the fence. It was odd, to find any sort of boundary or border; the only people who did so were the enchanters.
“Darling,” he whispered. He wanted to say, “we should leave,” but he glanced down at her before he did so. A familiar glint was in her light gray eyes. His sentence turned into a stutter, then a sigh. “Why do you want it so badly?”
“I simply must have it!” She clutched at the lapels of his earthen-colored jacket. Her gray-cast face was drawn in longing. “Please.”
Feeling annoyed that the expression was almost the same as the one she’d met him with on their wedding night, Lando frowned. “But…it’s an enchanter’s garden!”
Loredana whirled away in a huff. Her dark red skirt flared out in an enticing spin. She crossed her arms and refused to say another word. She didn’t even say anything when the village gossip—a close friend of hers—tried to engage her in conversation.
The day passed by with the usual village activities; gathering flowers and plants for dyes, tending the wild gardens, working at the tannery. Loredana’s silence hung heavy on Lando, until they turned in to their cottage for the night.
When he was about to fall asleep, she laid her head on his neck. In a pained whisper, she said, “I will simply die if I can’t have it.”
Lando cursed himself for a fool. A sleepy fool, but a fool nonetheless. “Then I will simply have to get it for you,” he replied.

Lando stole along the path, wondering why he’d gotten up before dawn to do this. Weren’t enchanter’s powers stronger at night? Weren’t they more protective of their property?
He shivered and tucked his black undershirt into his loose breeches. “Why didn’t I change?” he asked himself. The memory of his wife’s desperate, nagging pleading played in his mind. “Still…”
The tree looked even more magnificent in the moonlight than it had during the day. Its petals and leaves glowed softly, still swaying. Still glittering as if thousands of stars had come to rest on them.
Holding his breath in fear and anticipation, he clambered over the dark wooden fence. His blond hair fell over his eyes in an untidy mop. Sputtering and trying to catch his breath—he wasn’t a very athletic man—Lando waited a few moments.
There was no alarm. No shouts. No flashes of magic. No yowling of hounds. He was safe.
Quietly, he side-stepped into the soft glow of the willow. With an expert hand, he pinched and twisted off a few blossoms. Carefully, and trying not to be overwhelmed by the wonderful scent, he tucked the blossoms and leaves into a pouch at his side.
That night, he escaped safely. He brewed a tea for his Loredana, hoping it would ease her longing. To his dismay, the next night, she declared that her longing had grown threefold!
He went back to the garden once, twice. The third time, he came face to face with the witch Kamille.
A beautiful outfit with many folds and waves, dyed purple and black, could not make the hunched, one-eyed figure pretty. The witch’s lank gray hair formed a weak curtain over the crooked hazel eye on the left side of her face. Her back was bent nearly double, her head coming to Lando’s stomach.
She glared up at him. “What are you doing with my laburnum?” Her voice matched her face; old, tired, and terribly cranky.
Lando fell to his knees. “Please, forgive me! My wife…” He trailed off, knowing he should have been more firm with her. “Please, forgive me. I have no excuse,” he said softly.
The witch was silent a while. When she spoke, her voice was flat. “I will forgive you your theft, provided you give me something in return.”
“Yes!” Lando kept his head down, awaiting the witch’s demand.
“I will be the godmother of your child.”
Lando glanced up in surprise. “But…we have no children! We were told…well…” He trailed off again.
“You will,” Kamille said with a twisted grin. “You will.”

Be Wary of Strangers, Part 11

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.

Know the Novel, Pt. 2: Reality of Devotion

I meant to get to this earlier in the month, but that didn't happen...
Time for another session of Know Your Novel!

1. How’s the writing going?

I’m behind. So very, very far behind.
Most of the words I’ve counted are rebellion projects (I’m including this post towards my word count cuz freaking flying snow gypsies am I behind). I had been planning on doing, like, one rebellion project a week. I’m doing one about every other day. There were some snags in plot/worldbuilding I thought I’d taken care of already. Hahhahaha, nope. But they’re taken care of now, so hopefully I’ll be able to finish the story before the year is over (I’ve given up hope of finishing before the end of November.)

2. What’s been the most fun aspect about writing this novel so far?

As grueling as it’s been, all of it? I love everything about writing in general: story, characters, development. This time is no different.
I love how the MC is acting differently than I thought he would (love-hate relationship, lol.) Michel’s a bit of a know-it-all with a penchant for shoving others around, and I have a really hard time writing characters like that without stereotyping them, but this seems to be something he does only semi-constantly, and only with people he cares about. He’s still annoying at times, but it’s more tolerable than I thought it would be.
I’m still in love with the world, even though I haven’t written anything terribly in-depth about it yet. Alas, I have yet to write a proper chimera encounter. :(

3. Has your novel surprised you in any way?

Yup; it’s way harder to write than I thought it would be. XD
I also came up with an explanation as to a particular, odd world-building snag. The nation that Michel is a part of (the Khorites) has a quirk: they love sleep, and view rising before the sun as a sin. But, they're sailors and pirates. These two things don't go well together. I decided that they're crazy adaptable at sea, but after a certain amount of time on land they're lazy and prefer to lounge rather than exert themselves. This ties in nicely with their sea-serpent chimera (hedammu). So I'm happy.

4. What do you think of your characters at this point? Who’s your favorite to write about?

Kallias’ head is the easiest to get into, so I enjoy writing scenes from his POV. Problem is, I don’t want to write from close POV for this story; I wanted to do distant POV/omniscient. But hey, I need words.
Kallias and Michel's interactions are fun to write, too. They get into all sorts of trouble (most of it their fault).

5. If you were transported into your novel and became any one of the characters, which one do you think you’d be? Would you take any different actions than they have?

Oh, goodness…uh, I like to think that with my authorial knowledge of the characters and the paths they’re taking, I would be Aura, the mentor figure.
Logically, if I myself were the character, then I wouldn’t be myself, and thus wouldn’t take any different actions because I am the character, not myself. If, however, I were myself and not the character...well, if I had no idea what was going on, I would do things way differently than she did, namely face things with a bit less courage than she has. If I had an idea of what was going on...I still wouldn't look forward to it, and would try to run as often as possible because who wants to be kidnapped, sold as a slave, then blamed for everyone else's problems?

6. Give us the first sentence or paragraph and then 2 (or 3!) more favorite snippets!

Here’s the first paragraph from the scene that has the most potential for being the beginning scene:
***
Michelakos finished his inspection of the ship and disembarked. He slapped the hull affectionately. “Ready for another mission,” he sighed. Not that the captain would accept anything fun or challenging. Or profitable.
***
And because they were the most fun to write, some snippets from dare scenes, which may or may not end up making it into the final story.
***
The lily trembled in her hands.
Aura closed the little girl’s unsteady fingers about the thin stem. “Pass in peace,” she whispered to the feverish figure. “I am bound to another, and cannot guide you. May another more experienced than I take you in their arms.”
She pressed her forehead to the girl’s. She held it there. Thud. Thud. Thud.
Each unnaturally hard pulse of the girl’s heart sent a jolt through her forehead. Aura grimaced and put her cold hands to the side of the girl’s head.
Aura opened herself. The grief and anxiety and hope of the parents in the next room washed over her. The uneasy understanding of the girl pressed against her like a rock. “I shall give you what I can,” she said quietly.

Delara put a finger to her chin. “You know, you need to get out in the sun more. You’re as pale as a buraq.”
Kallias looked miffed. “You’ve been drinking, haven’t you?”
“Oh, hush.” Delara batted his shoulder. “Just sit down and let me work on that sallow face of yours.”
“I’m here for the artifacts, not a makeover.”
“Well, why can’t you have both?”
Kallias rolled his eyes. Seeing he would get nowhere with her until he complied, he sat on the stone bench. “Are you going to be using magic?”
“No, silly; that’s not how these things work. Mother would be infinitely prettier if they did.” With swift movements, Delara prepped her makeup kit.
Kallias squirmed. “This isn’t wise.”
“No, no it isn’t; it’s fun.”

Kallias sighed, leaning his head back and bracing himself for a tirade. “Yes?”
“Will you marry me?”
A blob of glowing goop spattered against his forehead. “Argh!” He jerked up, sending Delara falling into the mess. He rubbed his face with his shoulder. To his dismay, the only thing that managed to do was rub the goop into his eyes. “I’m fairly certain I misheard you,” he said, clamping his eyes shut.

He scrambled to his feet, ignoring Kallias’ cursing. “Let’s go!”
They ran out. Nothing came out to chase them, but when they got to the last room before the entrance, they couldn’t keep running.
Michel glanced down at his hands, only to find that they were terribly out of focus. He tried to ask Kallias if he was okay, only to find that his words slurred. Kallias didn’t seem to be in much better shape.
Kallias shook his head, then sniffed at his hands. His curses blurred together. “That…wasn’t blood…altar…”
They both went down to their knees. “Then…what…”
“Sed…sed…” With a sigh, Kallias’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he went down.
After calling out to a pillar, “Oh, hello mother,” Michel went down, as well.
***

7. Have you come across any problem areas?

Eh, one or two. Nothing a quick question session couldn’t fix.

8. What’s been your biggest victory with writing this novel at this point?

Honestly? The fact that I’ve written more than 2K words this month. This is the farthest I’ve made it in the three years of participating in Nanowrimo. I tend to have more luck during the Camp sessions, either meeting or exceeding my usual goal of 10K.

9. Be honest, have you killed any characters off yet?

Not directly? I know in a recent scene there’s mention of the death of a character who was giving Michel problems. And then there’s a scene where the deaths of several crew members are mentioned. Then there’s a zigurat scene where Michel and Kallias kill enchanted warriors (but they were technically dead to begin with).

10. Take us on a tour of a what a normal writing day for this particular novel has looked like. Where do you write? What time of day? Alone or with others? Is a lot of coffee (or some other drink) consumed? Do you light candles? Play music? Get distracted by social media (*cough, cough*)? Tell all!

My schedule is very erratic, and revolves around work. Some days I have a night and morning shift back to back, and don’t have much time for anything except quick notes hammered out on my iPod.
Depending on the scene, I’ll play music (check out my music inspiration page above!). Most of the time, I’m okay with the general ambiance of the house.
I usually write alone, though word wars/sprints with my Cabin mates have really helped me get words written this session. Snacking tends to distract me, so I try not to write while I eat (unless I have no other time to write, in which case I eat breakfast/lunch/dinner, whatever meal my sibs aren’t on the computer for). Drinking (coffee, tea, or hot chocolate) is easier for me to do while I write, so sometimes I’ll drink.
Pinterest occasionally distracts me if I try to stop in the middle of a scene and research, or find inspiration pins for my story. Fandom things, fluffy animals, and epic fantasy landscapes dominate my feed as of late, and it’s really hard to just go directly to my research board without looking at a few things… XD

Be Wary of Strangers, Part 10

Vampire: Loki/Thor x ReaderPart Ten

Several days and nights pass, and Loki refuses to let you back in the basement.
“What’s the point of me being here, then?!” You never thought you’d be mad about not being able to confront a vampire, but for whatever reason, you are.
Loki just narrows his eyes. He has a bag of several sacks of blood in hand. “You’re not going back down until I’m certain he can be trusted.” With that, he heads back to the basement.
You huff, then go back to researching vampires. The name Loki mentioned—Endymion—continues to niggle at your mind. You’ve come close to finding out more about him as the days go on. The books you reference grow older and older, until they’re scrolls written in arcane script. With a sigh, you leave them out with a note asking for Loki to translate them for you. As you write the note, you feel a bit…useless. Not just in research, but life in general.
You can clean a bit, maybe research. But now you’re research is stalled, and you can’t even deliver the packs of blood to the vampire.
You turn in early, hoping that Loki won’t decide that you aren’t any use.

***

After a horrendously long night—day?—with Thor, Loki was ready for bed. He just couldn’t figure out why Thor kept slipping. Mentions of the past made Thor hurt, and flip him into animal mode. He was a bit dark and demonic a few minutes after feasting, but after that was fine. Feeding off fresh blood, contrary to Endymion’s advice, seemed to make him stay in that demonic state longer than feeding off of refrigerated blood.
And as his abilities continued to grow; new enchantments were required to keep Thor in the basement.
He tromps upstairs, ignoring the sunrise that is just beginning to enter through the windows, and flops onto his bed fully dressed. He would just sleep a few hours and then…then…
Heavy footsteps echoing in the stairwell wake him. “Why?” he moans. For a few moments, he stays where he is, listening. The footsteps continue to head down. Then, the door that leads to the basement entrance creaks open.
“@*#*# you, Thor,” he mutters. Doubtless it’s some new vampiric ability manifesting. And the girl is his target.
Loki rolls over and looks at the clock on his bedside table. It’s only a few hours past noon. If Thor’s abilities are this strong…
He hurries down to the basement, berating himself for never having had a proper talk with the girl about Thor’s new abilities. The maze greets him with its customary coldness. As he navigates through the dark, he hears voices.
One is obviously the girl’s, and it sounds as if she’s praying.
Thor’s strangely dark chuckle winds through the maze. “Who would have thought that prayers would make you smell more sweet?”
Loki hurries down the passages, readying his daggers. When he reaches Thor’s room, he stops short. The girl is sitting, limp, on Thor’s lap—still in her pajamas, thank heaven—and Thor himself is slowly sucking at her neck.
“Brother!” he shouts.
Thor disengages and licks his lips. His hold on the girl tightens and his eye flashes an angry red. “Leave me be.”
“What do you want with her?” Seeing the beginnings of a sly grin on Thor’s face—something was definitely wrong, that expression had no business being on his thick-headed brother’s face—Loki holds up a hand. “Never mind, don’t answer. Let her go.”
Thor doesn’t, of course. He nuzzles the girl’s neck. She sighs and curls in closer to him.
“What time is it?” Thor asks with that same horrid expression.
He knows. Or does he merely suspect?
Loki’s grip on his dagger tightens. “Midnight,” he lies.
Thor frowns in confusion. A bit of the normal blue begins to show through the dark and the red. “Really? I thought it was earlier.”
“Let her go, you’re hurting her.”
That seems to do the trick. The dark blue fades entirely, and Thor blinks rapidly. “What…why…” He glances down at the girl, who has a ridiculous smile pasted across her face. “I’m not normally this uncomfortable when—”
“Yes, yes,” Loki snaps, not wanting to hear a bawdy joke. “You must have used your vampiric call and she came running.”
Thor shrugs. “I remember being a bit…hungry, but I thought I was dreaming.” He stands and holds the girl out to Loki. “She’s not waking up. That doesn’t seem like a good thing.”
“I will bring her upstairs.” Loki takes the girl from Thor. Before he can take two steps, she’s whimpering. Another step, and she’s calling for Thor in a panic. A step more, and she’s shrieking and clawing at Loki’s face.
Loki practically tosses her back to Thor. She quiets as soon as she’s in his arms. “Odin’s beard, what did you do to her?!” He dabs at a few deep scratches on his cheek.
“I told you, I don’t know!” Thor glances at the girl’s neck, licking his lips. “Though perhaps it has something to do with the fact that I’ve fed from her?”
Loki glances back to where the entrance to the house is. He recalls some information he came across in the library, but isn’t entirely certain he recalls correctly. Seeing as he normally has a perfect memory, this unsettles him.
He jerks his thumb to the passage. “Come with me. Walk ahead, I still do not trust you where I cannot see you.”
It’s a bit of a challenge, trying to get Thor upstairs without walking through the sunlight filtering in through the windows, but somehow they manage.
Loki draws the curtains in the library and turns on a few of the lamps before ushering them inside.
Thor takes a seat on one of the couches while Loki sifts through the papers and books on his desk. He comes across a note that he hadn’t seen before, asking for him to translate a scroll. He sets it aside. No time for that now.
“Loki,” Thor whispers.
 He doesn’t look up, still intent on finding the document. “What?”
“What should I do?”
Loki glances up. The girl, eyes half-closed, is fondling Thor’s face. She whispers something Loki can’t hear, and pulls his head down to her neck. Thor hurriedly moves a hand up to stroke her face.
Exasperated, Loki turns back to his search. “I’m hurrying.”
A few seconds more, and, “She’s getting more demanding.”
“I’m hurrying, I’m hurrying.” Determined not to look up, Loki turns to the shelves behind him. There!
“I found—Thor.”
His brother lifts his head, fresh blood on his mouth. “I’m sorry, she won’t stop until I do!”
“I meant…” Grinding his teeth, Loki tosses a blanket over to him. “…put her shirt back on.”
“Oh.”
Hopefully they would figure this out. And soon.