Page 3 of Valkyrie Confused

“Good. See you later, then, Scarlett Rivers.”

He turns to leave, but I reach for his arm. His skin burns my fingertips, sending a jolt of desire straight to my core. But it’s more than that. It’s longing. And a bit ofdeja vu?

He jumps a little, before spinning my way. “Yes?” His voice has dropped an octave. It's throaty and sexy and carries with it promises of hidden passions.

“What do I call you?” My voice, on the other hand, is barely audible.

”Panos. My name isPanos.” Either he's leering, or lack of sleep is giving me hallucinations.

I swallow hard. ”Nice to meet you, Panos.”

He arches an eyebrow. “I’ll see you soon.”

Why do his words make me shiver with anticipation?

Nope. Not anticipation. It’s the jetlag, making my legs threaten to give way.

I should walk him to the door. Shouldn’t let strangers wander around my apartment unsupervised. Getting clean is currently more imperative than being safe, though, so I walk into the bathroom and close the door behind me the moment he leaves the bedroom.

I don't have the patience to fill the tub, and I'm not that enthused at the thought of stewing in my gunk anyway—even without the risk of falling asleep and drowning—so I'll leave trying out the jacuzzi for a later date. Instead, I step under the shower and let the warm water cascade from my head down to my shoulders, my breasts and my back, over my belly and around my hips, like a warm, liquid embrace.

When I pop open the complimentary shower gel, the scent of citrus fills my nostrils. I've used citrus-scented products before, but they've never smelled this fresh. Certainly never spread so smoothly along my skin, with such rich, fragrant lather.

I could totally see a nymph soaking in a river and using this same—I read the label—olive-oil-basedproduct to wash herself. Ha! I could so rock the advertising world. But I could use this scene in my next paranormal romance, too.

I empty the entire mini-bottle of similarly scented shampoo on my hair. The curls need a lot of product, and making a crown of foam is fun, even when I'm this exhausted.

Maybe a supernaturally hot man—say a hired hand—walks in on my heroine washing, and the sight drives him insane with desire.

Is he a supernatural creature?

An incubus?

Or maybe he's a god. Yes, a Greek god. The kind that loved eating and drinking and fucking unsuspecting virgins in the woods.

I duck my head under the jet and run my fingers through my tresses as the water clears away the suds, leaving my hair feeling crisp and fresh.

Panos could be a Greek god. A lush one, like Dionysus, maybe. The book will be in a current setting, like the previous three in the series, so he'd be tired of the city life. Yes. And the stress that comes with it. And he's in the woods, to… reconnect with his primal self.

As always, summoning the words requires more prodding, more effort, than mentally seeing the scene unfold does, but I map out a brief outline in my mind.

Disillusioned by modern-day living, Dionysus—still amaybeon that—has returned to the woods, where his connection with earth is the most potent. A sense of fate draws him to a pond with a small waterfall, where a nymph is bathing, and joins her. They’re both uninhibited creatures of lust, so she doesn’t turn him down when he offers to wash her back. His touch ignites her desire, especially when it lingers on places that are nowhere near her back, but she stops him before they consummate.

She’s the last of her kind? And feels drawn to him, but… an older, meaner god has a claim on her. And since I’ve promised my readers’ that this book will include menage, that god can be the third person.

Or…I know.He’ll send a warrior—a Berserker, like in Book Three—to get the nymph for him, but the Berserker will fall for her too.Yes.And he and Maybe-Dionysos decide to set aside his attraction for her, to help her escape, but they can only ignore fate for so long.

This is a bestseller. I always know when a book will sell, by how vividly I compose it in my head, and the imagery of the scene in the waterfall was vivid enough that I won't be able to look Panos in the eye for a couple days. Especially since I cast myself as the nymph.

Malia.The nymph isMalia.

I can’tseethe Berserker yet, but at least I’ve figured out what part he’ll play in the plot.

Fully rinsed and exceedingly proud of myself, I step out of the shower, careful not to slip on the wet tile. I'm wet too, but too sleepy and tired to do anything about it. The thought alone of putting away my clothes or even looking for my pjs makes my shoulders droop. I just want to get under the covers.

I open the door to the bedroom, and two things become apparent. One, I shouldn't have had such a warm shower, because it feels like the temperature took a nosedive. And two, I won't have to do any searching.

My unsexiest flannel pjs are folded on the bed, next to a note that reads:

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