"So how's the big dick today?"

Cynara counted in her head to ten, aware of the man's mockingly lecherous expression, which she could see out of the corner of her eye as he moved closer. The wind had died down, but the chill was still frosting her lungs with every breath.

Barentsøya. Cold little island north of Norway, within the Svalbard archipelago. Not a place she'd ever thought she'd end up, but since the discovery of the Torden Stein, She and Sven-the-Fress had been here, tramping through the tundra day after day to study the newly uncovered rune stone.

It was, unfortunately, deliberately phallic-shaped. Like the Stora Hammars, the Torden Stein stood stiffly as a limestone erection on both the literal and metaphorical levels, huge and obscene, rising from a deep depression on the tundra that had been covered by snowdrifts and low vegetation until half a year earlier.

"Grunst, what do you want?" Cynara muttered, trying not to make eye contact. Loutish and greasy-haired, Doctor Rudi Grunst was the local liaison for the expedition team out of the Ancient Languages Center of Oslo, and an asshole to boot. He'd begun with belittling remarks about her clearly inadequate qualifications to study the stone and progressed through chauvinistic tripe to the current run of intensifying sexual harassment over the last three weeks. As one of two women on the team, Cynara shouldered the majority of it; Trini Hessel's husband Bruno didn't tolerate Grunst's remarks in his presence.

So Rudi kept his most persistent provocation for her, and it was always worse here at the site. Cynara had given him the cold shoulder, had called him on his bullshit more than once, but he persisted, his pale eyes creeping her out.

"Oh I think you know what I want," he replied suggestively. "I know why you keep coming back to this huge . . . erection. Not getting it regularly from hubby, eh?"

"None of your business," Cynara growled, trying hard to keep from swinging her clipboard at the man. It was annoying that Grunst was right to a certain degree of course; she hadn't seen her husband in nearly two months, and hoped he was all right, insane god that he was.

"Oh but I care about the welfare of this team," he replied, crowding closer to her, his smile particularly smarmy. "I feel it's my responsibility to keep you . . . satisfied. A good roll in the hay might take some of the permafrost out of your panties."

"You're disgusting," Cynara informed him dryly.

"Oh me? I'm a lover, trust me," Grunst grinned. He moved in, but Cynara shifted out of the way, aware of his intentions. Early in the week he'd tried to grope her, but she'd managed to step on his foot before he could, and from this point on they'd engaged in this ongoing dance of aggression and avoidance.

"I'm sending emails," she warned him. "Every day. To the director, to S.H.I.E.L.D. to everyone associated with this project."

It was true, but ineffective, Cynara knew. Nobody on the European end seemed to care much, since S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't popular with them, and Fury hadn't responded. Cynara figured he expected her to deal with harassment on her own; not an endearing response, but on the scale of earth-shaking events, a minor issue like this probably wasn't a blip on his radar.

Phil would care, Cynara knew, but he was off to Portland and she didn't want to bother him with it.

"Your word against my word," Grunst shrugged with a malicious smirk. "Face it, nobody cares, and you're stuck here for another month at least. Why not just admit you need a man and let me show you a dick bigger than this one?"

Cynara tensed, wishing one of the other team members would come strolling down the embankment and interrupt this scenario. She gripped the edge of her clipboard and wished she'd brought something more useful as a weapon. "I'm wife to the biggest dick out there, Grunst; what you've got isn't even a pimple by comparison."

He glared at her, startled for a moment, and laughed unpleasantly. "Oh yes, the," Grunst made quotation marks in the air with his fingers, "husband. Biggest pile of bullshit I've ever heard. You're not married, my fine icebox bitch. You may have a ring on, but you don't have any photos or get phone calls or mail from anyone other than your mother. You might think pretending you've got a man keeps you safe, but I can see through your ruse. You need fucking."

Grunst shot a hand out and grabbed Cynara's wrist; she swung the clipboard, striking his cheek with a meaty smack that echoed in the air. She took three steps back, eyes locked on the man. Grunst absently rubbed his cheek, and instead of looking furious, smiled again.

"Oh I like it rough too—"

Cynara considered her options. Running would be difficult, given the scree all around them—he'd catch her quickly. Fight then. This she could do, oh yes. Just as she clenched her fists though, a shimmer just up the slope behind Grunst caught her eye, and within seconds a figure solidified there.

A tall, green leather clad figure with a golden horned helmet.

Cynara relaxed.

Grunst, unaware of the shift, gave another predatory laugh. "Want a head start, sweetie?"

"Oh yes, thank you," came the un-amused voice from behind him. Grunst turned, his expression shifting from defiant to startled as he took in the majestic appearance of Loki.

"What the hell?"

"No, Hel's my daughter—or will be at some point," Loki corrected in a humorless tone. "For the moment I'm more interested in this imminent transgression. How dare you, human?"

"Who the fuck are you?" Grunst demanded, his gloved hands balling into fists. "Some Viking re-enactor lost from your party?"

Loki strode forward and showed his white teeth, pretending to be vastly amused, but Cynara shivered and called out, "No, you can't kill him, husband! He's an idiot but he's not worth the trouble!"

"Your planet seems to be heavily infested with them," Loki growled. "I have the right, Wife."

"Wife?" Grunst glanced over at Cynara, who sighed.

"Maybe by the laws of Asgard, but kill him and you'll stir up trouble here."

Loki circled around Grunst, and sneered at him. "Pathetic. You, an ambitious mortal let yourself fall under the stone's influence and try to lie with the wife of a god. Such hubris! You deserve a slow and excruciating death, but since that cannot be done . . ."

He flicked a hand towards Grunst, and a bolt of green energy sizzled out, engulfing the man and shocking him in the charge. Grunst gave a hoarse cry of pain and fell limp on the ground, still breathing, but barely.

Cynara looked at him and then Loki. "What did you do?"

"Nothing he did not deserve," Loki snapped testily. "He has lost all interest in sleeping with anyone ever again, and has no memory of today by your clemency, Wife."

She took a deep breath and set her clipboard down next to the unconscious man, then walked over to Loki, looking up into his face. "Thank you."

"Yes," he agreed, face still stern. "The influence of the stone is too powerful on humans at this proximity. Even I feel its persuasion, Wife. Why are you here, so close to something so dangerous?"

Cynara looked from Loki to the Torden Stein, confused. "Wait—the stone?"

Loki reached out and caught her chin, turning her face back to him, forcing her gently to meet his eyes again. "You do see the shape? I did not think you were still so innocent, Wife. Yes, the stone holds Old Magic of the strongest kind, bringing forth the season of rut for all males within its realm."

Cynara shuddered. "So that's why he . . ."

Loki strode over and kicked Grunst in the ribs, making the unconscious body roll a little on the rocks. "His desire for you was there before the stone magnified it," he grunted.

She skittered over, laying hands on Loki's arm. "Enough. No harm's been done."

He turned to her, green eyes glittering. "He had no right."

"He had no right," Cynara agreed, trying to humor Loki. "And I'm so glad you showed up when you did. Thank you," she repeated.

Loki shook his head. "No. Thank me another way," he told her softly, urgently. "The days since last I saw you have been long, Wife, and I have hungered for your warmth. Come with me to my realm; bed me."

She glanced over her shoulder. "Sven . . ."

"Will be fine," Loki cajoled, sliding a hand around her waist. "We shall be gone only a short while . . ."

Cynara managed a wry smile. "Nothing is short with you, Husband."

"The truth is so sweet," Loki replied in a gloat, "coming from you. Come, I will show you the second secret of the stone."

"Second secret?" intrigued, she allowed herself to be urged along towards the Torden Stein. Loki walked her around to the back of it, and reached out a hand, tracing one of the Pictish-looking circles up near the top. The chiseled edge glowed for a moment, and then the entire stone disappeared, becoming an open space.

Another dimension.