Loki could not help a slight pang of disappointment when he woke up alone in his bed. Then again, when he was honest with himself, it had never been any other way. He had used and been used, but when the light of day exposed him, he only had himself.
Rising to look out the window, he stole a glance around the dividing wall to where Summer lay, sunk in among the pillows, mostly covered by her hair. He leaned his head gently against the wall and listened to her breathing in and out, very quietly, gently. That eased his conscience a bit, after what he had put her through, and he was selfish enough to want to ease it.
A strangled wail emerged from the heap of pillows, and Summer flung one hand out across the width of the bed. “Don’t … ” she cried, muffled, then squirmed deeper under the covers, breathing turned harsh.