Loki felt himself freeze at her words, ice spreading through his veins. He had destroyed another connection, proven himself cruel and unworthy yet again. He could not move as she poured her hurt over him; he drowned in it.
Your brother.
“My brother,” he hissed, snapping back to reality. He stepped to block the door. ”My brother was a fool, driven by petty whim and shallow connections.” Her hurt and his desperation were pooling together and he could hardly see straight through it all. ”You are not these things Summer. Why must we pull at each other like this? Can we claim power over others and who they are?” No, of course not, there was no hope for him. But at the sight of those eyes of fire, he softened.
“You are anything but weak, my Summer. You endure.”
The endearment, small though it was, cracked her control. Shattered it. Summer lost the projection, blinked, and tears slid down her cheeks. A sob wracked her body. Hastily she shook her hair forward, hiding her face. “I’m sorry,” she managed through a tight throat. “I shouldn’t’ve said those things. You are … who you are, and I’ve no right to … change you.”
“Oh please, Lady Summer,” Loki spoke into her hair, wrapping his arms around her, “do control yourself. Some dignity, please,” he laughed, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. He felt a strange sense of calm flood through him as her crying stopped.
Summer couldn’t resist the relaxation of tense muscles as his arms went around her. Into his chest, she said, voice still choked, “When have you ever known me to be dignified, Loki? Didn’t all this start with play?”
Suddenly he was very aware of the way she was held against him. ”You are right, my Summer. Would you forgive me, just for now,” he slid his hands through her hair, relishing the softness as it slid between his fingers as he dragged them down her neck and back, “a moment of weakness?”
“Loki, I consider neither play nor emotion weakness.” His sudden desire rang in her head like a cascading chorus of bells. She let it ride through her body, and curled her hands against his chest, letting more of her weight rest against him. “Right now, just now, I will forgive you almost anything.
“Darling.” The endearment was low, pitched with meaning, unlike the careless southernisms she’d thrown around before.