Page 70 of Valkyrie Confused

The painin my chest is gone, but the feeling left behind isn’t pleasant. A void—a cold, dark hole—has opened up behind my ribs. I rub the spot, for all the good it’s done the dozen times I already did that.

I look from side to side. Again. Call Arnlaug’s name. Again. I can’t feel him.

Nothing.Again.He can’t be gone.

No. Wait. Something is happening.

The mountain and blue sky are replaced by darkness, the change so sudden and seamless, it could only be caused by a god, summoning us.

A god stronger than me.

Fucking Odin.

“Where are we?” Scarlett may look fierce in her Valkyrie outfit and wings, but her voice is tiny. “Did you do this?” Her sword is in her hand. She’s getting the hang of this faster than I dared hope.

“This isn’t me. Something pulled us here.”

“Where ishere?” Her panic clogs my throat. Not good.

“I don’t know.” I tangle my fingers with hers, and it’s like I’ve opened a floodgate, allowing her emotions to flow into me. Fear. Worry. Confusion.

Why am I sensing her feelings to this degree? When I try to regulate the flow of emotion reaching me—something easily within the scope of my powers, under normal circumstances—it feels like closing the door on my finger. Only my finger is my soul.

I make no sense. “This has to be where Arnlaug is,” I manage. And yet I still can’t feel him.

“I hate the dark,” Scarlett whispers.

My night vision is sharper than a mortal’s. “We’re in a cave, no exit in sight.” I summon the flashlight we keep at reception, back at the hotel, but it doesn’t come to me. Fucking wards, obviously. “Give it a couple seconds, for your eyes to adjust.” I give her fingers a little squeeze and let go. I hate to do this, but when I’m not touching her, I can think more clearly. Can evaluate our surroundings better.

My sense of smell may not be as good as a Berserker’s, but my hearing is. I pick up the low growl in time to jump in front of Scarlett, a heartbeat before Arnlaug towers over us both in his bear form.

Why didn’t I feel him?

I’d recognize his beast form anywhere.

I memorized it that very first time I walked up behind him, as he was fishing in Lousios. He looked so out of place—a white-silver bearin the freaking Peloponnese—that I knew he wasn’t mortal even before the signature of his power registered.

He was magnificent, and I was drawn to him. I approached slowly. Carefully. I was already wary of the old gods, and he had to at least belong to them. I was right behind him, when something crunched under my foot, and he swung around with murder in his eyes.

He swatted at my face, claws out. On instinct, I raised my hand, using my flute as the world’s worst shield. To my utter surprise, it worked. The flute snapped in three, but the bear lost his momentum. The desire to kill faded from his eyes, as his face flickered and gave way to his human form.

That was the moment I fell in love with him. Before I even noticed how very naked he was, and I was wowed all over again.

His beast hasn’t turned on me since. Not when we argue, and not when we fuck. Odin must have done something. Snapped Arnlaug’s control over it. Was that what I felt?

And why did I feel it? I was well out of range of Arnlaug’s feelings until moments ago.

“What the fucking fuck is that?” Scarlett shrieks.

Guess her eyes adjusted to the dark.

“Arnlaug,” I tell her.

Jaws snapping, drool dripping from his fangs, and eyes red with bloodlust, he swipes one clawed hand at us.

I reach behind me, grab Scarlett’s wrist, and blink us out of the way.

But we don’t get very far.

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