Page 37 of Valkyrie Confused

I spin the bottle, and it lands on Arnlaug, who grunts. “Okay. I’m older than I look, I’ve been to war, and I love pasta.”

I know which one the lie is, but Scarlett pipes up before I can say it. “You don’t like pasta?” She gasps. “Any pasta? Like, not even lasagna?”

She’s better at this than I thought.

“Lasagna is pasta.” Arnlaug shrugs. “I don’t like its texture.”

“Not even Panos’s lasagna?”

I’m glad she appreciates my cooking, but hearing my pretend name grates on my nerves.

“That’s pasta too,” he says.

“Weirdo.” She rolls her eyes. “War, huh? Where you a mercenary?”

He shakes his head. “I was fighting for my beliefs.”

“Iraq?” she asks.

“No.”

She must have caught on that he doesn’t feel like talking about it, because she says, “My turn to spin.”

The bottle chooses her, and she leans back against the armchair. She pulls her hair free from the bun, twists it, and secures it again with her hairband in almost the same exact position. “I’m a Virgo, I want three kids, and I’m pretty decent with a sword.”

Well, okay, then. “The sword thing’s a lie.”

“Ha.” She points at me. “You lose. I took a lesson when I was writingThe Berserker who Loved Me, and I liked it so much, I stuck with it.”

“So you aren’t a Virgo?” Arnlaug asks.

Scarlett harrumphs. “Guess again.”

“Two kids?” I ask.

“Or none. I’m not really akidskind of person. One of the reasons that ultimately led to my divorce.” She snorts. “The other being that he was a controlling ass, who was threatened by my success, and slept around to make us even for all the late nights I had to work.”

“His loss.” I mean it. This woman is a force of nature, and she’s not even ascended yet. She’s buzzing with power and drive, even when she’s forced herself into this timid little box I want to break her free of. Her slightest move brims with eroticismandshe can handle a sword. And the asshole slept around?

“He was controlling?” Arnlaug’s tone carries the growl of his bear. “Did he lay his hands on you?”

There’s no doubt in my mind that, if she saysyes, he’ll find her ex and feed him his own hands.

Now if he can hold on to this vehement need to protect her when it comes to Odin…

“Never,” she says. “He didn’t have to. He broke me down with his words, and I let it happen. So it’s my fault, really.”

“It’s not.” He takes the words right out of my mouth. “He knew what he meant to you, and he took advantage of that. It’s not your fault that you loved him. At least you had the strength to walk away.”

How can he not see the irony in what he’s saying?

“Anyway. You lost. I spin again.” She does just that, and the bottle turns once, twice, three times, and rolls to a stop in front of me.

This is it, then. I suck in a deep breath and let it whistle out. “Here goes—I’m Pan,the god, and Arnlaug is an irredeemable asshole. And Number Three is that we’re both incredibly attracted to you, but we won’t fuck you tonight.”

THIRTEEN

SCARLETT

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