Page 38 of Valkyrie Confused

The lie isobvious in Panos’s case. He’s not the god Pan. Which means he believes that Arnlaug is an irredeemable asshole—whom he doesn’t mind sleeping with, though—and the two of them do want to fuck me. But they won’t. And for some reason, he thought it imperative that I know that.

Have I been coming on too strong? I didn’t think I was. I mean, till earlier today, I didn’t think they’d ever be interested in me, because they were gay and obviously into each other.

Hell, I didn’t think they’d be interested in me till Panos said they were, just now.

Unless that was also a lie, and I wasn’t supposed to know?

Wow, this is awkward. And I have been silent for way too long. And Panos and Arnlaug are watching me so intently, my ears are burning.

Or maybe that’s the wine.

Have I been acting like I want them to fuck me? Because I do, but it wasn’t supposed to be obvious.

And Istillhaven’t said anything.

I squelch my panic, force my breathing to become slower, and say, “The lie is kind of obvious here. You can’t bePan.Unless you mean you act like my hero?” Doesn’t make sense. He hasn’t read my manuscript.

But seriously, if they do want to fuck me, why won’t they?

“I meanthis.” Panos is on his knees so fast, I barely see him move. He ducks his head toward me. “Put your hand in my hair.”

“Um… Why?” Not that I don’t want to. His curls seem to be made of silk, and I may have daydreamed of tangling my fingers in them as I kiss him.

Instead of answering, he clasps my wrist and tugs, bringing my hand to his head.

Well, if he insists…

I gently push my fingers through his hair. It’s as soft as it looks. I rub his scalp, and he hums as my knuckle bumps something. I gingerly trace it with my fingertips. It feels like a horn, and when I slide my hand to the other side, I find a second one.

This is what he meant. He has body modifications. Back in the day, when I was a wild youth, I briefly dated a tattoo artist who had two titanium horns implanted in his forehead.

Is this roleplaying?

I absentmindedly rub one horn, and Panos shivers.He raises his gaze to mine. “Do that again.” His voice goes gruff, and my nipples harden in response.

I rub my thumb up the length of his horn, then circle the tip. It’s warm to the touch. Too warm for metal.

This time, when he shivers, he lets out a grunt, too.

“You felt that?” I ask.

Arnlaug has been watching quietly. Now he says, “He does. He can come, just from you caressing them.”

“That’s impossible.” Maybe it’s some kind of self-deception? He feels some pressure, and he manifests the sensation or something?

Panos raises his head and meets my gaze. “It’s not.” The next moment, he is at the other side of the room. “I’m Pan.ThePan.”

Earlier, he and Arnlaug seemed to materialize out of thin air, but I thought I’d spaced out, watching the stars.

“You…” How am I supposed to finish that sentence?

“I can blink from one place to another at will. I sense emotions and feed on lust.”

“He manipulates lust,” Arnlaug says.

“Among other things.” Pan appears in front of me again, sitting cross-legged on the floor, chill as ever. “And that’s not all.”

I should get up and leave, but my author brain is finding reasons for me to stay. I want to know more. Everything. Curiosity overrules my instinct of self-preservation. I look pointedly at his legs. “So you’re partgoat?”

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