"Mom?" I peered into the office from the threshold. She was standing there holding her coffee, waiting. She turned and put the mug on top of a file cabinet and waved us in.

"This is Bren," I said. "This is my mother." I made an awkward sweeping motion back and forth between them with one hand.

"Do you prefer Mrs. Dewitt, ora" Bren left his question open and put his hand out. My mother took it, a tiny smile of surprise on her lips.

"For the moment, yes, but thank you for asking. It's nice to meet you, Bren."

"Same here," he said. "Jenna talks about you all the time."

"I'll leave that one alone," she said, and they both laughed.

"No, it's all good," he said.

I watched them, amazed at how easy things were between them. Bren was so genuine, and yet knew exactly what to say, and my mother responded to him as though he were an actual human being, and not some creature who was trying to ruin my future with his rabid sex cravings.

"What are your plans for tonight?" My mother asked.

"Well," Bren said, "I guess that's up to Jenna." He glanced at me and took my hand again. "We can ride for a while or hang out and watch a movie." He turned back to my mother. "My uncle's home now."

"I'm too tired to ride anymore today," I said.

"Well," my mother said, "call if you're going to be late."

"I will."

"Nice meeting you, Bren."

"Same here, Mrs. Dewitt. Hope to see you soon."

"Wow," I said as we cleared the stairs and stepped out onto the snow. "You were really good with her."

He laughed his deep, hollow laugh.

I gave him a confused smile. "What?"

"You make it sound like she's a toddler or an unruly dog."

"No. Because then I could buy a book on how to deal with her."

He stared at me for a moment, then leaned over and kissed me, pulling me close to him. An involuntary, breathy sound rose in my throat and he pressed harder against me, one hand sliding underneath my jacket and stopping low on my back. I felt his fingers grasp my shirt and lift it just slightly, dragging along my skin above the waistline of my jeans. Goose bumps rose all over my body and I shivered.

His laugh was whispery and warm. "Let's go. I don't want your mother to catch me mauling you." He took my hand and we walked back to his apartment under a crisp, starry sky.

In the middle of the night, Bren and I lay awake on his bed facing each other, illuminated by the green glow from Frey's lava lamp. He had walked me home at ten, and I hung around the lobby reading until my mother was ready to come up to the suite. She seemed to like the idea, brought me a cup of tea and a few cookies from the reception table, and I felt guilty when I snuck out again once she fell asleep. Adding to my guilt was Frey's insistence upon staying on the couch, although none of them ever really slept. Even now, their muffled conversation through the closed door was anxious and heated. It was strange how Bren was sometimes separate from them. Not just physically, but in his mind, as though he saw things from a different place.

We were lying on our sides, me with my head on my arm, Bren propped on his elbow as he twisted a lock of my hair around his finger.

"Bren?"

"Hm?"

"When will we know?"

"What?" He glanced down at me.

"Why he's here." More guilt as I thought of my conversation with Loki at the base of the bunny hill. I imagined telling him, just blurting the words, but held them back.

"Soon." He said. "If we don't find out from him, we'll go to Ringsaker and try to contact my mother again."

"Why don't you just do that now?"

"I can'ta" he shook his head, his eyes straying to the side, "I can't feel her. When she's close by, when I'm able to speak with her, I can feel her near. But lately she'sa" he shook his head again. "Loki's escape will have Asgard in complete chaos. I don't know why they haven't come after him already. She may not be able to risk talking to me now."

"How do youatalk to her?"

He grinned down at me. "Maybe you'll see for yourself."

The thought scared me and I closed my eyes, shook it off. When I opened them again it was as if he was looking into me, as if he saw my fear. I thought of what Skye said about Bren choosing not to be in my head.

I reached up and hooked the collar of his shirt with one finger. "Could youaknowawhat I was thinking? If you wanted to?"

He smiled. I waited for him to answer. After a long moment, he took a deep breath and let it go.

"Is that a yes?" I asked.

He let my hair escape his fingers, watched the strands fall before turning his gaze back to me. "Do you have something to tell me?"

"Why do you ask that?" I stared down at the bed.

He leaned in close and waited for me to look up at him. His eyes were hard now, and I thought he might be angry. My stomach fluttered. "Yes," he said, "if I wanted to know what you were thinking, I would know."

I took a deep, shaky breath, and as I looked into his eyes, I decided that whether it was possible to lie to him or not, I didn't want to. "I saw Loki today on the hill," I said. "He talked to me."

His eyes softened and a tiny smile played at the corners of his mouth. He let himself fall back against the mattress and put his hands behind his head.

"You knew," I said.

He was quiet.

"Did Skye tell you?"

His eyes shifted to mine, the smile fading. "No. But she should have."

"How did you know, then?" I pushed myself up on my elbow and stared down at him.

"I don't dig around in your head," he said. "But I'm always listening now, with him here. Your energy didn't match your behavior."

"So you rifled through me to find out what was wrong?"

"Don't say it like that." He sat up again. "And anyway, you lied to me."

"I didn't lie."

"And I didn't lie to you about what happened to Tyler, but you said not telling you was the same thing."

I pressed my lips together and fell back on his pillow. Either we both had an argument or neither of us did.

"Right," he said. When I glared at him, he laughed. I smacked him on the shoulder twice before he pulled me down next to him. After a few seconds, he sighed and rolled us so that he was above me, his hands braced on either side of my head. He looked down into my eyes.

"You know, I don't need anyone with me to talk to my mother. Sometimes I go alone. I went by myself not too long ago. I told her about you."

"You did?" I ran my hand over his arm. "What did she say?'

"She said that if I would not come home, then she wanted me to be happy here. She said I sounded happy."

I let my hand trail up the back of his neck, pushed my fingers into his hair. "I hate that he's ruining it," I said.

Bren kissed the inside of my arm. "It's not me I'm worried about. Loki is his own unique brand of hell." I thought of the blackness I had seen in Loki's eyes, remembered the hopeless feeling of suffocation and pain I had so easily forgotten today on the hill. "But there is nothing he could do to change what I feel for you." He said.

This time, when Bren kissed me, when I felt the weight of his body against mine, I didn't even try to hold back my small gasp. I knew that he could sense how I felt, and I didn't care. I was in awe of him, of the way the muscles in his back felt under my hands, of the soft, shiny fall of his hair around his face. I pressed my fingers into his shoulders, aware of each perfectly defined line. Bren straightened his arms, hovered over me and watched as my eyes traveled over his face, his collarbone, his chest. I touched the hollow at the base of his throat and he closed his eyes, his moan a quiet rumble under my fingertips. Lowering himself again, he kissed my neck, once, twice, and then his teeth grazed my skin. My breath caught and my heart sped in my chest. I felt weak, confused by my own wanting.

"Bren," I said, my voice barely a whisper.

"Hm." His tongue slid along my lower lip. I kissed him back, his wintergreen taste drawing me in deeper for a moment, and then I turned my head to break the spell. His mouth grazed my throat again.

"Bren."

"What," he mumbled against my skin.

"Stop." I breathed.

He inhaled, froze for a moment, then let out a tense, hot sigh.

"Sorry," he said. He pressed his forehead against mine.

"I just -"

"No," he said, his voice still a little gruff. "It's my fault. I know you're not ready for this."

He rolled over and pulled me against him. I closed my eyes, listened to the hammering of his heart.

"I shouldn't have even -" I started, unsure how to continue. "It's just that you're soa"

He looked down at me from the corner of his eye. "Soawhat?"

Lately, I'd developed a habit of speaking before I knew what I was going to say. I buried my face in his shirt and felt him laugh softly.

"Did you look like this in Asgard?" I asked him.

He paused for a moment. "Kind of. Did you look like this in New Jersey?"

"No, I had bigger hair and fake nails." We both laughed this time. I tilted my head to see his face. "What's different about you now?"

"Well," he said, "I guess you could say I toned it down a little."

I couldn't imagine what that meant, how he could have been any more beautiful.

I barely slept knowing Bren was wide awake, glaring up at the ceiling and brooding. Although his heartbeat had evened out and his breathing was slow, he was tense underneath me, an arrow pulled back on a bow. I wondered how long his patience would hold out. And what would happen when it was gone.

Chapter 24.

Bren and I struck a deal on the way back to the hotel the next morning. I would check in with him as soon as school was over, and then wait in the lodge for Frieda and Dag. Their shifts would be over first, and if my mother insisted on having dinner with me, they could wait for me downstairs. I wasn't crazy about being confined, but there didn't seem to be any other way. It was more difficult for Bren to tap into another Asgardian's thoughts, especially if they were being deliberately blocked as Loki's undoubtedly were.

After school, I went into the lodge through the door off the back lot and found a small table next to the fire. I slid my backpack underneath and glanced through the wall of windows that looked out over the mountain. The sky had been blue and bright when I had left school just minutes before. Now it was bruised with thick, woolen clouds, the day as dark as night. I pulled my gloves off and tossed them on the table, then walked over to the heavy doors, a soft rumble of thunder sounding in the distance as I heaved them open and went out onto the deck.

I leaned against the rail, texted Bren and waited to see his bright yellow jacket against the gloom. This deck was much smaller than the one off the hotel, and I remembered the night Bren had found me here and stood so close to where I sat, staring out into the cold as I watched the snow land in his hair. I had been so stubborn, insisting that I would not learn to ride. I smiled as I thought of how he had changed all that, changed everything. That night as I lay defeated on the hill, he had taught me how to get back up, told me that the only way to the top was down, showed me that my fear was nothing more than a lack of faith. I wondered if he would say that now, with Loki so close. I wondered if he was afraid.

"Hey." Bren's voice cut into my thoughts. I'd missed his approach. Letting his board fall flat on the snow, he ran up the stairs and closed the space between us in three quick strides. I wound my arms around him and he held me as he always did, crushing the air from my lungs. Thunder rumbled again, closer now.

I gazed up at him and he kissed me long and slow until my body softened against his. I yanked myself away.

"I don't want you to get in trouble," I said, glancing around.

"I'm already in trouble," he said.

The day darkened and a few tiny grains of ice smacked the deck.

"You're going to stay in the lodge today," he said. "We agreed."

I nodded. "We agreed."

"I'll be there as soon as I can."

"I know. Don't worry. People are coming in now, so I won't be alone."

He raised his eyes to the sky, then pushed his hands into my hair and stared down at me. "Let me know if anything happens. Anything. And don't wait."

"I won't."

He held me again for a moment, then kissed the top of my head and turned away, his face pale with worry. He looked back once as he carried his board toward the learning center and I waved, forcing a flat smile. He lifted his chin and smiled back. When I could no longer see him, I went back to my little table in the lodge. I sat watching the fire for a long time before finally lifting my books from the floor.

The hail started as a slow, intermittent patter against the glass, then became loud and rhythmic, drumming the ceiling and deck. It was as fine as snow, but I heard a member of the ski patrol say that Mr. Neil had closed the terrain park lift and an older, wooden one that led to the glades on the condo side of the mountain. I finished my homework and closed my math book, glancing once more out the windows. The ice had collected on the deck and railing, and in the corners of the window frame. I leaned over, exchanged my math book for my Stephen King, kicked my backpack further under the table and settled back in my chair. I stared at the cover, an image of Roland the gunslinger standing against a sunset with the dark tower rising in the distance behind him. The picture had seemed so fantastic to me once. I tried to recapture the feeling as I opened the book, gratefully sinking into another's story of world and time.