Page 16 of Valkyrie Confused

Myths and legends to do with him are so focused on the orgies in his honor, they barely ever mention his strength.

“You’re not staying here for that month. I want to ease her into what she is, before you drag her to your lord.” His exaggerated shiver grates on my nerves.

It’s not like I’m out to slaughter innocents; I’m bringing her to her destiny. Ensuring that her life gains purpose.

“Yeah, I don’t think so. I’m not going anywhere. You said you wouldn’t run, but you didn’t promise not to send her away.” And now I’m giving him ideas. I shake off his grasp—or he drops his hand when I try to—and turn toward the exit. “Maybe I should go get that promise from her.”

He is at the door, blocking my path, in the blink of an eye.

I roll my eyes. “You’ll keep me in here? I thought you wanted me gone.”

He works his jaw, and I see the effort he makes to maintain his cool façade. Leaning back against the door, he shoves his hands in his pockets. His pecks flex, and my gaze jumps to them before I force it back onto his face.

“Stay till tomorrow, since Scarlett invited you,” he says. “We need the room after that. She and I will both be here when time is up.” He straightens and opens the door. As he walks out, he glances at me over his shoulder. “And, Arnlaug?”

“Yes?”

“You still look good enough to fuck.”

At a loss for words, I watch him walk away until the door slides shut, blocking him from view.

Fuck.

I kick off my boots and take off my socks. So many eons, walking this earth, and clothes and footwear still feel restrictive. My sweatshirt is gone next, before I slide my pants down my legs. One thing I do appreciate about modern-day life is indoor plumbing, and especially long showers. If I’m staying here for a day or two, I may as well enjoy myself.

I set the water to lukewarm. It’s an indulgence I’ll allow myself, but that’s where I draw the line. As I quickly lather my body with a shower gel that smells way too fruity for my tastes, I don’t pay any attention to my raging erection. I’m not a lovestruck pup; I’m an ancient, hardened war machine, and the only passion I’ll give into is bloodlust.

Pan looked good. Incredibly so. Well, not incredibly, because he’s eternal, and his not aging is entirely credible. Still… our time apart frayed the memory of how striking his face is. How sculpted and toned his body is. How good he smells.

And my cock is hard enough to drive through the tiles, so I shove my thoughts away from the annoying goat-man and to my mission. The curvy, bubbly blonde is too short and soft to be a Valkyrie. Odin will be displeased with her, and nobody likes it when Odin is displeased. I could take the time I’m around to help with whatever training Pan has in mind.

It’s been a while since I sparred with him, but he’s good with a sword and remarkably fast. And of course, I’m excellent with my fists and any close-combat weapon I can wrap said fists around. Between the two of us, we can make a passable warrior of the red girl by the time I deliver her to the AllFather. I sniffed the untapped potential in her, and I don’t usually sense power, the way Pan does.

I do smell desire, though. Smell it all the way from the other end of the building, where her heart beats faster than before. Is she lusting after Pan? The thought doesn't bother me. Neither does thinking of him returning the feelings. Am I finally over him?

That thought stings, and I swat it away. Emotional attachments are not the warrior way. Tyr's spiral in devastation after he lost his woman is a reminder when I run the risk of forgetting.

I rinse and return to the bedroom, to air-dry. The memory of Tyr's Valkyrie and her words as they walked away has taken care of my erection.

Think long and hard about your loyalties, berserker.Do not waste your honor by being loyal to the wrong god.

I never second-guess myself or my life choices, but if there was one moment in my life I came close, it'd be that.I’d still do Odin’s will, in the end, though. Whomever that might hurt.

My friends would understand, if I had any left.

Pan was once a friend. More than that—a lover, a confidant, a companion. If he were adamant about me leaving this woman alone, would I be prepared to end him?

It won’t get to that. I will aim to incapacitate, not terminate. But he knows my mind. He’s seen me choose Odin over him in the past. He won’t force my hand.

I hope.

The walls are closing in on me, so I pull on fresh clothes and head outside.

I follow my nose to the unit at the far-right end of the building. Scarlett’s scent comes from upstairs. It’s enticing—almost as much so as Pan’s—but I don’t go to her. Instead, I make myself comfortable on the little bamboo sofa at the bottom of the staircase and lean my head back, to soak up some sun. The weather may be cool for Greece, but it warms me up. Enough so that I almost miss the softclickof a door opening.

Almost.

Without moving a muscle, I zero in on the source of the sound. It’s Pan, fivefaðmraway and closing in slowly. Not stalking… more like sauntering. And taking care to move stealthily. He knows better than to attack me, but I remain alert anyway—not that you’d know it to look at me. To the casual observer, I’m daydreaming. Perhaps napping. In truth, my every muscle is tense in preparation for a fight.

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