Page 48 of Valkyrie Confused

I snap my fingers, and they’re both fresh from the shower. “Sorry. Couldn’t take the tension in the room any longer, so I saved us some time.” And now we have a few minutes we could put to good use, which I don’t say, but seriously, do I have to do everything around here?

“My time-saving idea was more fun,” Scarlett says, “but this will do. See you in a few. Make those quiches happen. I’m starving.”

As she’s walking out the door, Arnlaug and I both ask, “What was your idea?”

Instead of answering, she gives a little finger-wave over her shoulder.

SIXTEEN

SCARLETT

Pan made the right choice,with thewhoosh-cleaning thingy. Another couple seconds, and I’d have suggested all three of us shower together, for the sake of saving time. And for water conservation.

And because I really,reallywant to see the two of them naked again. Touch them. Feel them.

Take them.

The ravenous, possessive pit inside is clearly because of the sparring. Don’t they say exercise produces oxytocin? Add in two extremely hot men, and it messes with your brain chemistry.

Wish I did have time for a shower. A cold one, to regulate my hormones. As things are, I squeeze myself into my skinny jeans and an unstained red sweater and put on some red lipstick, which is the wrong choice when I’m about to go eat but looks good on me. Heels will be overkill here, so Ugg boots will have to do.

I’m done with ten minutes to spare, and that’s not good. Time to spare means time to think, and that way lies madness. Because when I think, I remember how impossible my current reality is. Ancient Greek god and Berserker—how old is Arnlaug, anyway?—aside, I made it to a mountain more than three-hundred miles away—you bet your ass I googled it—and back in the blink of an eye today. Twice.

The twinge in my shoulder and the ache in both my arms act as a reminder of how I spent my time on said mountain. Training. To be a Valkyrie. To serve a god with questionable intentions.

Yeah, it was better when I was thinking of the sexy men downstairs. Arnlaug is surprisingly agile for his bulk. Andboy, is he bulky. He’d take up half my bed. Leaving the rest for Pan and me. We could do so much, the three of us in one bed.

Maybe I should sayto Hell with itand make a move. Pan did tell me they are both attracted to me, and sex with them could be for the sake of research. To get me to finally write that ménage à trois scene I’ve been avoiding.

I huff, check my lipstick in the mirror, and head out. It’s showtime.

I hate peopling. Love spending time withmypeople, and Pan has wormed his way into that small circle. Arnlaug might too, if he dropped his defenses more often. Like when I threw him over my head. The memory of the shock on his face makes me laugh, and that makes me wince, because I’ve definitely pulled something in my upper back.

Ugh.Yeah, better that no sex is had. Any more physical exertion, and I’ll die.

Only one of the tables in the dining area is occupied, and Pan is placing starters between the couple there, engaging in his usual casual chit chat. He raises his gaze and smiles the moment I reach my usual corner table, and this is the smile he reserves for me and possibly Arnlaug. It’s not part of his charming persona that has all our guests so enamored with him and the hotel.

When he winks, I melt inside.

The spike in endorphins, or whatever rubbing against him and his boyfriend caused, hasn’t completely flatlined. Dinner should take care of any remnants, though.

The four young women from yesterday are here and timidly approaching my table. I smile and nod encouragingly. Let’s get this over with. Hopefully, Pan will bring us enough food to keep our mouths busy chewing, so I can keep talking to a minimum.

The girls introduce themselves and after a discreet debate about who’ll sit closer to me, take their seats. This is so weird. I’ve only met fans at signings, and those were two-second interactions. Now I’m supposed to have actual discourse.

“So where are you all from?” Stupid thing to ask. They said they came from Athens.

“Athens,” says the one to my right.

“Right.” Why why why have I already forgotten her name? “I’ve never been.”

“Seriously?” asks the girl on her other side. Eighty-percent chance that she’sEleana. “You should come. We’ll show you around.”

“Oh, it’ll be awesome,” pipes us the girl to my left. I wanna say…Katerina?

The last one isJenny. FromEvgenia. The Greek version ofEugenia, as she told me before she sat down. I expect her to say something now, but she keeps quiet.

And now we’re all quiet.

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