A dual pov narrative from both main characters-Loki and Annalise. If you enjoy slow burn, immersive stories, that will make you have all the feels, followed by the long awaited spice, then stop your search. Here is the story for you!
As the newly cr...
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I promptly collect Annalise from her chamber after allowing her approximately fifteen minutes to unwind from the long journey. It may not have been a lot of time, but for me, that brief separation from her felt lengthy enough.
I only granted that much time because it's deemed impolite not to allow a woman to freshen up. My mother always insists that a host give their guests amply time to settle.
I gesture for her to sit on the plush sofa, which I had specifically made for her arrival. The original seating, much larger and designed to accommodate a Jotun, would have been bothersome for her with its height. Her act of climbing it would not have been very ladylike.
I may not be the epitome of hospitality, but I am not a wholly neglectful host.
I notice her wandering eyes, taking in the decor—a blend of artwork from different realms— the predominant collection being from Midgard. Mortals may possess their share of flaws and fragility, but their creative minds shine when it comes to art, music, and literature.
"Ask me something, anything, and I will answer honestly," I say, hoping to encourage Annalise to engage in conversation.
Since I had hurried her from her chamber, she has been unusually quiet, lost in her own thoughts. I ponder if perhaps she truly is tired and in need of more than just a brief rest.
"Um... well... hmm," she muses, her fingers delicately tracing her lips as she contemplates. I can't help but chuckle as she visibly struggles to come up with a question.
"Don't laugh!" she scolds, her tone a mixture of frustration and amusement. "It's hard when I'm put on the spot."
"Would you like some assistance? Shall I give you a starting point?" I offer.
"Very well," she agrees, and I decide to give the first thing that comes to mind.
"Ask me what my favourite food is," I suggest.
"Okay. What is your favourite thing to eat?"
In an instant, her rephrasing of the question sparks a mischievous turn in my thoughts. My mind drifts to more carnal thinking, conjuring images of pink panties and the tantalising delights nestled between her perfect thighs. The mere thought of sampling her ignites a hunger within me, and my mouth begins to water as I indulge in the delicious fantasy.
"Now who's finding this challenging?" she playfully teases, noticing my delay in responding. Little does she know, my mind has wandered into a more provocative realm, consumed by thoughts of eating not food, but devouring her.
"I apologise," I say, my voice slightly strained. "I seem to have gotten carried away with my thoughts. Let me answer your question properly.... while my palette is very diverse, I am partial to the simple delights of figs."
"Figs?" she repeats. "That's surprising. I pictured you more as a person who enjoys the sharp, crisp taste of green apples."
"Ah, a green apple is indeed a close second," I muse.
