Page 10 of Valkyrie Confused

“Same difference.” She clears her throat. “If you don’t feel up to it, I can make other arrangements.”

I don’t take the bait, until she adds, “Maybe find a Berserker to fill in for you.”

“Do we at least know what I’m protecting her against?” I grumble. “Should I put up wards?” This place is out of the way of… everything, and I'm a sort of divine Switzerland, so I haven’t bothered with trying to keep the supernatural element out.

“Don’t. That would tell people you have something to hide. I don't know who or what may be after her. Just that she needs to be kept safe until she can handle herself.”

What she said before finally registers. “And her friend? The one you found her with? Are you sending her here too?”

Nyx snorts the auditory equivalent to an eyeroll. "I’m not making you every mystery case’s bodyguard. She has her own men of arms.”

“Should I ask—”

“No.”

In my snarkiest tone, I say, “Okay. Thanks for theheads up.”

Her tone shifts to sweet again. “You're very welcome. Don't be a stranger, now, you hear?” And she hangs up.

So much for getting answers.

With sleep just out of reach, I pull out the flour and some dry yeast. Our lucky guests are getting homemade bread with breakfast.

* * *

Whatever else Scarlett may be, she’s distracting. Doubly so when she’s out on the balcony, stretching and moaning and taking deep breaths that puff her chest and have her breasts push against the oversize hoodie she has on. Triply so when keeping an eye on herison my mandated To Do list.

I pick up the table of Room 103 and smile at the yawning blonde who arrived this morning. “Need a refill?” I jiggle the coffee pot in my hand, careful not to shower her with hot coffee.

“Nah, I’m good.” She pushes her sunglasses to the top of her head and returns my smile.

There’s nothing threatening about her or her companion, but I let my senses glide against her aura, anyway. Nothing special. Plain mortal energy.

“I’d love a cup,” says her brunette companion. “One of us has to drive.”

I chuckle and fill her cup, then steal another glance at Scarlett’s balcony. Because I’m supposed to protect her, not because I like looking at her. That there’s nothing around she may need protecting from—thatthatis the reason I moved here to begin with—is beside the point.

“God.” The blonde pats her belly. “Where does she find the energy to be that awake at this ungodly hour?”

“You’re awake,” I say.

“Barely.” The brunette snorts and takes a sip of scalding-hot coffee when her friend—girlfriend?—glares.

“Only reason I’m not horizontal is that she”—the blonde points at her—“wants to get all the way to Lake Doxa and back before lunchtime.”

“Yeah, well, you agreed,” the brunette says, giving me a wink.

Is she flirting?

Maybe.

Do I care?

A couple days ago, I’d be fucking them both by noon, but now… “If you ladies need anything else, holler,” I say as I walk away. I need to clean the rooms—done—and check in on my resident writer. It is ninesharp, but she hasn’t stuck to any part of her schedule this far. She wasn’t up at five, was hardly verbal at six, when she growled through the door that she wasn’t hungry, and I heard her feet pound all the way back to bed after that. Doubt she woke up before eight thirty.

And seriously, what is she?

Maybe I’ll know when we fuck. Because wearegoing to fuck. I felt her desire for me from the moment we met, and I see it in the way she meets my gaze now, as she spreads her legs wider, folds her right knee so she faces me, and pushes the air my way with her hands on the exhale.

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