Owner (Blood Brotherhood 2)

Less than a second later, my entire view is Thor. He’s massive. And ripped. Literally. The shirt he’s wearing has given into the force of his musculature and popped open along the length of his shirt, displaying his chest and a lot of his abdomen. Maybe he was only half-dressed when he heard us pull up like a near literal bat out of Hell.

“What the hell were you thinking!?”

It is just as well I never put my seatbelt on, because he grabs me out of the car so roughly, I am sure bits of me would be left behind if I'd been restrained.

“You steal a car, go back to the crime scene, lead the police on a chase and get yourself on a most wanted list? You are never leaving this property again. You are grounded, for the next decade, at least. You…”

I tune out at that point in the threat parade. There’s no point listening, it would only stress me out, and I have plenty to stress me out already. Today has been wild. Maybe even wilder than yesterday, and yesterday was one of the wildest days I could conceive of.

“Anita!” Thor gives me a shake. “Are you listening to me?”

“I saw Hell.”

“What do you mean? You’re in a hell of a lot of trouble…”

“I mean we drove through Hell. Like down through the ground, into Hell, and back up again. Toot toot!”

He keeps hold of me but swivels toward the butler.

“Crichton…”

“Her statement is factually accurate.”

Thor lets out a roar of rage. Real fury emerges from him, reaches the sky, and calls forth a great plume of rain. We are instantly soaked, but he does not seem to notice the rain.

“This madness ends here and now.” He holds me aloft to face him. His features, always handsome and strong, are still twisted with that anger which makes my stomach churn to behold. “I cannot lose you. You are the first in over a thousand years to hold the hammer and to have it act through you. You are special. You mean something. And you are determined to throw your life away as quickly as possible.”

He has tried so hard to convince me he is just a normal man. But today I saw Hell and now I am seeing his true face. The face not of a man, but of a god.

“I… it wasn't intentional," I tell him. “The chase, I mean. I just wanted my clothes and things. I sneaked down to get them so I wouldn’t have to keep wearing the trackies.”

“And you ended up most wanted. Do you know what this means?”

“Yes. It means they want me for murder. Which is fair, because…"

Rain turns to hail and I rethink my impertinence. Whoever I am talking to... whatever I am talking to, he’s more powerful than I’ve ever given him credit for. I’ve mistaken his mask for his true self. Most people's masks are more impressive than the reality behind them. He is the exact opposite.

Crichton has disappeared. I don't blame him for making himself scarce.

I am coming to a series of swift realizations that were before me all along. I ignored them because they did not fit with the reality I have been uncomfortably nested in my entire life. I knew the hammer was special the moment I saw it. I knew what it was, even. But I didn't believe myself. Even as I was taking it, using it, feeling its power course through me in a dark electric bolt…

“You are a god.”

“I am not," Thor growls. “But you are a little demon, and I know how to handle demons. They must be punished.”

“Fine by me.”

“Fine by you!?” He lets out a roar of laughter that causes clouds to cluster above, ripe with dark anticipation.

“You’re THOR! You can do what you like to me.”

“You’re right on one count. I can do what I like to you.”

The electricity is not limited to the sky. It is zipping through me, from my head to my toes, and mostly to my core. I’ve been through some shit today. I’ve seen more than any living person I’ve ever heard of. I’ve been through Hell. Now I’m hoping this angry Viking will show me heaven.

You’d think I’d be worried about something else. One of the many existential revelations, perhaps. The confirmation of the literal existence of Hell, for example. But I’m just fucking horny.

The adrenaline, the rage, the power, the danger.

He drags me indoors, up to his room. He continues to snarl like a vicious thing. No words emerge from him whatsoever. He’s just making noises I cannot translate into any kind of language, except the language of sex and revenge.

My clothing is ripped from me. Nina’s Juicy suit is destroyed in the hands of wrathful god. I am thrown onto the bed. He is not being careful with me. He is barely treating me like a human with human limitations. He is treating me like a thing to be punished, someone who deserves to be hurt. And yet he's not hurting me.