Page 13 of Valkyrie Confused

Panos’s palm is so large, his fingers land on the top of my breast when he squeezes my shoulder. “Why are you always so tense, Scarlett?”

I tuck a curl behind my ear, honestly not noticing the feel of his bare skin where my knuckles graze it. Okay, I’m lying. “I’ll eat when I'm done. I just need to finish this chapter.” My cheeks are on fire. He always has this effect on me. Why why why does he have this effect on me? I’m a grown-ass woman, and he’s… not. Not grown ass. Definitely not a woman.

Not interested in women, either. Which should be making this less awkward.

He presses his thumb to the back of my neck and rubs a circle that makes me shiver.

“You really should go.” Can I please sound like I mean it?

He drops his hand, and I feel cold. Worse, I feel like asking him for a full-body massage. But this isn’t me. I’m not hot for him; I’m horny because of what I’ve been writing. I turn to look at him, but he’s gone.

SIX

ARNLAUG

The driver hitsthe brakes abruptly, and there’s a collectiveopa, before the bus slides to a stop. The doors creak open, and the driver points at me and then to them. I spoke Greek to him before, but he acts like I wouldn’t understand if he told me this is my stop.

I nod, pull my duffel bag over my shoulder, and climb down. To the middle of nowhere. A sign welcomes me to Kato Trikala, as the bus peels off much too fast for these crappy roads.

I take in the crossroads before me and start up the hill. I don’t know where exactly I’m headed, but this is the right way. It has to be. If for no other reason, then because I’m sick and tired of dead ends.

An old woman steps into my path halfway up the hill. Dressed all in black and bent over a cane, she tilts her face up at me and gives me a toothless grin. “You’re a big one,” she says in Greek, her gaze sweeping me from my braided beard to the heavy combat boots I’m expected to wear in public.

I halt and return as unthreatening a smile as I can. “I eat all my food,” I reply in the same language.

She laughs like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard and hobbles down the slope at a much faster pace than I’d consider safe. I stay and watch her. I can spare afew moments to make sure she doesn’t slip to her death.

I’m not the good-Samaritan type, but the old lady has a warrior’s soul. I respect that.

She rounds the corner, and I turn back toward my destination. I flare my nostrils, calling to the bear inside to sniff out potential enemies. Only I’m not prepared for the scent I pick up. As familiar as my own, it acts like a punch to the gut and a warm fur blanket at the same time.

Pan.

Pan is nearby. He’s with my target—so much for staying out of other gods’ politics. The smell of bread tangles with those of the moist ground and early-morning rain. He’s been baking. Must have been antsy. Can he tell I’m coming?

My mission is simple. Find and procure the fledgling Valkyrie before the apostates get to her. Simple but not easy. An energy witchhas sniffed out several new sources of power on Midgard the pastfew years. Most blink out of existence almost as soon as they appear—dead or under a good cloaking spell. Odin sent me after the handful of remaining ones. The trails to the first two yielded no results, but this one will. I can feel it in my bones.

That Pan is here only confirms that, because Fate is the kind of bitch to make me repeat the hardest choice of my very long life.

No. Shouldn't be a choice. Odin is my god. Pan isagod.

One I worshiped for a while.

Not going there. That’s ancient history, and our differences were too significant to overlook once passion faded.

But passion never did fade. It morphed. Into anger. Resentment. Hurt. He refused to give up his precious independence, and when Odin called for me, Pan gave me an ultimatum. I don’t do ultimatums. Or anarchy.

Pan’s presence now poses an issue. Does he know the hatchling? Does he care about her? Will he get in my way if I have to chase her down?

I’m not to harm the girl, but I can… apply pressure as needed, to convince her to follow me. Whereconvinceis a vaguely defined term. As with every mission Odin has honored me with, I’m to complete this without questions. It is why he made me what I am and had me join hisulfheðinn, his wolf warriors, despite not sharing their animal.

I flare my nostrils, as the unmistakable scent of a female in heat reaches my nose. The earthy tones, spiked with lust and cinnamon, are carried on a current of power I've tasted before, when Tyr's redheaded Wingless Valkyrie had him spare my life. If I had any lingering doubt that this is Odin's red girl, I don’t any more.

Ascended or not, this is a Valkyrie, and between her and Pan, I must be prepared for a fight. I square my shoulders and draw on negative sentiments, to bring myself to the brink ofhamask.

I call for memories of savage fights from my past. Wreaking havoc amongst Odin’s enemies. Tearing them limb from limb and bathing in their blood. Fighting Fenrir in that underground arena and having to hold back when he unleashed his wrath, so my beast wouldn’t overtake me.Pinning Pan against the wall and—

The disgust in his face when I told him I wouldn’t turn my back to the old gods. The pain twisting my guts as I watched him walk away. The emptiness.

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