18
Loki knew Serin had f*******n this form, but he couldn’t resist taking her skin out for another spin—not after he raided her closet.
Grinning like a fool, he put on one of her old dresses and turned up the music, dancing around carefully to avoid opening his wound again.
Even the air felt different in this apartment. Wiggling his hips, he stroked the gemstone countertop bar that separated the kitchen from the sunken living room. The leather and wood barstools were perfectly matched. Serin must have picked them out. She had such an amazing innate sense of style.
He loved it here. The Elemental safehouses were always choice penthouse suites overlooking a city or cool little houses tucked away in glorious natural spaces. He’d been milking his injury for all it was worth, playing on Ser
