"I cannot begin to express how much I resent your presence here."

I sighed, pretending to feel martyred. "It's been three months, Loki. Get over it. Seriously."

He was sprawled on the long, curved couch in the private lounge reserved for the Avengers and...associates? In the kitchen, I turned with a canister of coffee beans and caught him giving me a venomous look over the counter that separated us. He was in his usual armored leather getup, which I found both a little flamboyant and...admittedly, sort of sexy.

"Do you want coffee?" I asked, ignoring his glare.

"Please."

I turned away, repressing a smile. It really gave me a kick that he could be so rude and so polite at the same time.

Anyway, his thoughts weren't nearly as resentful as his attitude. In fact, he radiated amusement, which I had learned early on was pretty typical, day-to-day Loki. He could look at you like you were nothing more than an insect, cut you down like he hated your guts, and all the while be silently thinking that you were really quite charming company. And vice versa.

I'd also learned that the best way to deal with him was to simply play along–-although I did like to call him out, on occasion. Unlike most people, it seemed to amuse him.

And his insults rarely bothered me. Having lived twenty-nine years with the ability to read minds, I'd developed very thick skin. People tend to think way worse things than they say. Loki was the other way around most of the time.

In fact, everything about his behavior was kind of backward.

Personally, I found it refreshing. More than refreshing. I genuinely liked the God of Mischief. We got along like toast and butter.

I scooped some beans into the grinder and set about making a pot of dark coffee, aware that Loki watched me intently the whole time. He was good at controlling his thoughts–there were times I found it difficult to read him–but lately, he'd been letting his guard slip. I kind of suspected he did it on purpose though.

At the moment he was admiring my figure.

He'd discovered the week before that his attraction to me made me incredibly uncomfortable, and he'd been exploiting it ever since.

"What's on our agenda today?" he asked in a low, silky voice.

That voice was like a finger up my spine.

Keep it together, Bella.

I cleared my throat and made myself speak casually. "Same as always. You do your thing and I follow you around making sure you're not going to stab anyone."

"Tell me, if I did decide to do something...nefarious, how, exactly, would you plan to stop me?"

"I wouldn't," I said, pouring coffee into two white mugs. "Not in my job description. Besides," I added cream and sugar to his and cream to mine, "You're not going to stab anyone."

When I brought him the mug, he gave me a resentful look. He actually did want to be good, although he enjoyed pretending otherwise. Well, he wanted to be good enough that the Avengers would let him stick around and not throw him into a jail cell for the rest of his insanely long life.

"Are we permitted to leave the compound today?" he asked, taking a sip. I paused a moment before responding, waiting for the little psychic pulse of his pleasure when he realized I had made his coffee exactly the way he liked it.

He wasn't used to being treated with care and consideration. I liked giving him that, in mundane little ways.

I liked it a lot.

"We can't go out in public yet, but yes. We are cleared to leave the compound for a few hours. Congratulations, by the way." I sat next to him on the couch and folded my legs beneath me, ready to enjoy my coffee... and a day in the company of the God of Mischief.

"Yes, it's an enormous accomplishment. Truly momentous," he replied, with his signature lazy sarcasm. The resentment was real. However, he had felt a little spurt of pleasure when I congratulated him.

The Avengers had set particular rules about Loki's freedom–-hoops he had to jump through in order to gain their trust. Three months under my supervision with no incidents, and he could leave the compound. Another three and he was up for 'graduation review' as they called it. If he behaved out in the world with me for those three months, I'd be off Loki duty. Permanently.

I had to admit, I would miss the job.

And the trickster.

"What do you want to do?" I asked, sipping my coffee and ignoring the way he gazed sidelong at my legs, eyes hooded.

He liked my legs a lot. I'd stopped wearing dresses to work for exactly that reason. His attention made me feel jittery and awkward.

Apparently, he liked me in skinny jeans, too.

Noted.

"Perhaps you might suggest something appropriately mundane for us to do," he said dryly.

He was playing bored, but he was actually excited to get out. Poor man had been cooped up too long.

"Well, we're pretty limited, since we can't go out in public. Do you have any friends we could visit?"

He gave me a look that would make most people shrivel with shame.

"Okay, stupid question. No human friends. Um..." I thought about it.

"Where do you live?"

I blinked in surprise. "You want to come to my house?"

"Do you have a better suggestion?"

He was doing that thing–blanking his thoughts so I couldn't read him. He couldn't hide his emotions as easily, though. He was a bit anxious. Afraid I would say no?

My heart did a little jig. The God of Mischief wanted to hang out. With me. At my house.

"It's really small," I said–rather stupidly.

He arched a brow. "It's not here in this godforsaken tower. That alone makes it a veritable paradise."

I couldn't help but smile. "Do you like cats?"