Page 44 of Valkyrie Confused

“I thought you knew how to use a sword.”

“I know how to hold it. Theoretically, how to jab and parry. Only the sword I’ve been training with doesn’t weightwo-point-seven fucktons, and I never had to rush anyone.”

I shouldn’t laugh. We need to be serious about this. But we try it again, and there’s no improvement. She falls. A lot. And manages to hurt herself without me being within arm’s length.

“Are we sure she’s a Valkyrie?” I ask Pan.

It’s to rile her up, and it works. At the end of the hour, she can hold on to her sword for more than ninety seconds at a time, and has managed to avoid my hits two times in a row.

“That’s enough for now.” Pan hops to his feet and claps his hands. The armchair is gone, and so is the sword, mid-lunge.

Scarlett overcompensates for the shift in weight, stumbles, and falls into me. I barely have time to retract my razor-sharp claws and close human arms around her, to steady her.

“Thank you.” She blows a curl off her sweaty forehead. This close, her eyes look green, not hazel. She grins. “This would have hurt if I still had a sword.”

I roll my eyes, but I’m grinning too, despite myself. “You wouldn’t have lost your balance if you still had a sword.”

She’s clinging to my T-shirt, as she says, “For all you know, this was a ploy, to get you to lower your defenses.”

And it may have worked, so still holding her wrists, I roll aside and drop her to the ground. “I win.”

She sprawls onto her back, arms splayed at the sides, and laughs. It’s not a giggle, but a throaty, wholehearted laugh, and I can’t help but join in.

Pan tuts, but he’s loving this. And for a moment, so am I.

Until we’re back in his hotel room and have to face reality. Scarlett is nowhere near battle ready, and all I can do for her is help rectify that.

“Next session is this afternoon.” I turn to Pan. “Five okay with you?”

Scarlett plants her fists on her hips and glowers. “Shouldn’t you be asking me, since I’m the one with the writing schedule, who has to do the actual training?” She’s feisty, this one. Only soft on the outside, and it doesn’t look bad on her at all.

“I’m asking him because he’s the public face of the hotel. You won’t be missed.”

That sounded horrible. Possibly threatening.

“Tell us how you really feel.” Her eyes throw daggers at me, but I won’t show weakness, even if she’s a little scary right now.

“Pan, five okay?” I ask again.

“Sure.” He’s as nonchalant as ever.

Scarlett strides toward the exit, bumping her shoulder into me on the way. It’d be intimidating if I weren’t twice her size. “Five,” she throws over her shoulder. “And this time, you’ll be the one hitting the ground.”

Gotta love a healthy ego, but this is bordering on delusional.

Pan is first to the door. He opens it for her. “Good job today. Go take a hot bath, soak those muscles, and I’ll have your breakfast up in half an hour.Sharp.”

She stomps out, and he shuts the door and leans against it. “You did a mighty good job too. If I didn’t have fifteen mouths to feed, I might give you a little reward.”

“You could always”—I snap my fingers—“magic the food ready.” I grab the back of my neckline and peel off my T-shirt in one motion.

Desire flashes in his eyes and tents his jeans. “Tut-tut. You know I don’t compromise my art like that.”

He wants me to beg for his attention.

I don’t do begging. I kick off my boots, toe off my socks, and drop my pants. “I’m going to take a shower too. Maybe you can serve me breakfast in bed when you’re done with your morning chores.”

I know he’s watching, as I turn and walk to the bathroom.

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