REJECTED MATE
I cursed myself for not bringing a weapon to the Sixth Faction, although if I had shot that thing with the golden pistol, he might have ended up in Fenrir’s basement.
The three gods stood around the circle, neither of them showing much reaction to the monster.
Loki smirked, the apples of his cheeks rounding. He didn’t seem to be surprised that this wasn’t Azriel.
“Who is this?” the monster bellowed, his deep voice now forming a sob. “What have you done to me?”
I edged forward, my brow furrowing. Was the creature made of that goo, or had Loki slathered the angel with it as a prank? My lips tightened. This was no laughing matter.
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