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Stopping with a sophistication and refinement that took his breath away, she stood on pointe for several seconds before extending the long, elegant index finger of her right hand.

He marveled at the sensual lines of her body with all its perfect curves and delicious dips.

He’d heard her called thin but knew that was only because she hid beneath so many layers of clothing, the fabric she used as her armor from those who chose to ridicule instead of revere.

Underneath it all, Hel had womanly curves and a body that begged to be worshipped.

Continuing the perusal of his Mate, Hopper’s eyes traveled along the well-toned muscles of her arm. He was awestruck at the perfection. There was nothing about her he didn’t love, and then his gaze reached her hand and his mind was blown.

Each and every finger was long and elegant.

There was no doubt in Hopper’s mind that any maestro or virtuoso would be green with envy.

He simply knew she could tickle the ivories of any piano–grand or upright–with the best the world had ever known.

He longed to hear the music only she could create.

Just the thought made him want to jump to his feet, rush to Hel, fall on his knees and beg her to give him a chance.

He wanted to tell her how much he already admired her–loved her–and longed to share the rest of forever with her and only her.

But he didn’t dare. No, the Omnipotent Being known as Hope had no intention of spoiling the perfect moment before him. It was the first and only time he’d been in the presence of his Mate that she did not see him, and therefore, did not take off running.

Intuition said she wasn’t scared when she scurried away. His heart said there was something else at play, something only Hel knew. Something he’d thought about for countless hours without coming to any conclusive conclusion.

It was something he wanted to uncover. He wished and prayed to know so that he might ease whatever caused such drastic action. Laying any worry his Mate might have to rest was one of his heart’s fondest desires.

But what could it be? What in all the universe could keep a Fated Mate from being with the one made for her?

How could her heart and soul not want completion just as much as his did?

There was no doubt in his mind that it was the one and only answer he had to uncover for them to be together, and he needed to do just that the sooner the better.

But first…

Biting his tongue, his gaze followed where Hel pointed.

How had he missed it? How had he not seen the spectacular rainbow of color and majesty right before him?

No doubt painted with Auntie Mo Nat’s very own hand, it was the perfect assortment of island blossoms, and it was right beside his favorite place on his very own island.

And he had missed it on every visit.

One inhale, nothing more than a quick breath, and his senses filled to bursting and became even more alive.

The brilliant aroma of Mother Nature’s perfume was the perfect complement to Hel’s own, unique and enticing scent.

Enhancing it and strengthening what he’d come to know as the essence of his Mate, it was impossible not to take it within his soul and hold onto it forever.

Eyes ping-ponging between his Mate and the glorious display of blossoms, he imagined Hel standing right in the center of those spectacular blooms. He could quite literally see how the red of the Chinese Hibiscus, the orange of the Garden Nasturtium, the yellow of the Golden Trumpets, the green of the Cayenne peppers, the light blue of the Cape Leadwort, the indigo of the Golden Dewdrop and the violet of the Madagascar Periwinkle would highlight the onyx and white of Hel’s very visage.

It would bring out the glorious silver of her eyes, the pink of the apples of her cheek and the gorgeous natural mauve of her lips.

Until that very moment, he hadn’t known he possessed the names of those flowers, but in his heart of hearts he was sure Mother Nature had placed them there.

He also knew that if Hel ever allowed him into her orbit–her world–and accepted him as her Mate, those very flowers would be a part of their everyday lives for all of forever.

“Thank you so much, Father. This place is even more beautiful than you described.” The rich, full, almost-huskiness of her voice called to his heart and soul as nothing else ever had.

It didn’t matter what she was saying or who she was talking to, Hopper dreamed of hearing his name fall from her lips in those wonderfully dulcet tones.

The rumble of Loki’s voice was nothing more than a far-off distraction.

It was Hel, only Hel, that Hopper ever wanted to hear, ever wanted to see, ever wanted to know in every way possible.

Refusing to blink, not breathing, not even letting his feet move in the cool waters of the jetty, he hung on her every word and committed her every move to memory.

Somewhere between Hel asking her father why they had come to Dreki Island and Loki answering, Hopper realized that no matter the topic of conversation or her need to talk with her hands, the goddess, his goddess always positioned herself so that the live side of her body, the one glowing with Mother Nature’s Pure Light was all her father saw.

Had that stupid, puffed up Trickster god said something derogatory to his daughter about the gorgeous duality of her visage?

Had he made her feel self-conscious? Forced her to show only half of herself to him to avoid rankling his delicate sensibilities?

Was Loki so arrogant that he could not or would not accept all of his amazing, wonderful, perfect daughter, the Gift he’d been given?

Immediately incensed, Hopper was ready to jump to his feet, march over to the Norse Trickster god and punch him right in the nose, when Hel turned, swatted her father’s arm and chuckled, “No, I would rather leave the flowers here. I have my rose garden. Remember? Besides, all those who live here on this island need those flowers, and the flowers need them. That’s just the way of things, don’t you know?

People, well, all living beings, seem to forget that we live in a perfectly symbiotic relationship with all other living things.

That means, we have to be mindful and only disturb or relocate those that are willing and able…

Like my roses were.” Wrinkling her nose in an absolutely adorable fashion, Hopper was once again awestruck by how perfectly normal the expression was on her live side and the shockingly gorgeous contrast of the same look on her other.

There was no way even Loki could deny the splendor that was Hel, and Hope saw that reflected in the Trickster god’s eyes.

So, why did the goddess work so hard to hide the left side of her body? He’d seen her in many situations and not one person shied away or even refused to look at her. No, there was something more, and Hopper planned to find out exactly what it was… later.

So taken with the moment, so thrilled that he was close to his Mate, and absolutely overwhelmed that she hadn’t run away, Hope’s mouth opened of its own accord and the words took on a life of their own long before his brain got close to engaging. “Hello, my name is…”

Her eyes shot to his. Never before had the duality of her appearance been more apparent as when their eyes met. The silver of the right side of her gaze turned icy white as the left turned bright green with the Magic and Power of the glowing Eye of Metis.

For a split second, time stood still. Then Hel’s lips opened in the most glorious gasp. Her cheek flushed to a bright pink and her hair spun behind her like the wings of an Angel.

Smiling, his heart filled with anticipation and adoration. Then Hope reached for her as the last word slipped from his lips, “…Hopper.”

And just like that, both Hel and Loki were gone.

Disappearing into a cloud of Enchantment and Mysticism just as deep and mysterious as his Mate, the Trickster god and the goddess of Helheim were gone, but Hopper had learned something very important…

Hel’s Magic was not only stronger, more powerful, and more complete than her father’s, but it had the feel of something all-too familiar.

But what was it? Definitely not Giant like her deplorable mother. Hopper had firsthand knowledge of that specific brand of black Magic–and that was not what he felt coming from his Mate. No. No way. What he’d felt had been pure, white, and good in every way.

It was… It was… Why couldn’t he put a name to what he felt? It was right there. Right on the tip of his tongue. Just on the edge of his mind. It was there, he could literally see its shadow, feel it’s presence.

It was…

Damn! Why couldn’t he reach it? It was right there–an outline of the information he needed in the plethora of memories he’d stored over the centuries.

It was…

Could it be? Was she…?

Bam! Crash! “Son of a…!”

Jerked from his lovely dream by an uproar that quite literally shook the floor under his head, Hopper’s only thought was…

“Well, shit, another great day in paradise…”