Page 63 of Valkyrie Confused

“But he has a plan. He’s only thinking of the greater good.” It’s impossible for Arnlaug to sound whiny, but he comes close.

Starkad harrumphs. “He doesn’t care about the greater good. Wouldn’t know it if it bit him in the ass. He can’t even see the definitive future; he sees all possibilities and forces into shape the one that benefits him the most.”

“He painted me as the bad guy who would end creation, because I wouldn’t be his bitch.” Fen’s tone is conversational, though his eyes blaze. “But you know all that, don’t you? And yet you’re doing his dirty work, as per usual.” His wolf is close to the surface, and from how Starkad’s muscles are bunching and relaxing, his isn’t far behind.

Arnlaug meets my gaze. “This time, I don’t want to.” He rises and looks from Starkad to Fen. “Thank you for your time.” To me, he says, “We should head home. You have quiches to bake.”

“I’m not making quiches today, for fuck’s sake.” But he saidhome. Again with that pesky hope, warming my insides. I stand too and take his hand again. “Thank you, gentlemen.”

Starkad nods. “Remember that I’ll burn the world to keep Kirby safe.”

I hear the implied threat, loud and clear.

“Be careful,” Fen says.

Just before I blink us out of here, Arnlaug whispers, “Drop me off at Olympus? I want to clear my head before I see Scarlett again.”

I do as he asks. “I’ll come get you after lunch.” I give him the kind of kiss he’ll be thinking of for hours, and blink to my kitchen. I’ll whip up something for the guests, and then make a hearty breakfast for Scarlett.

And not worry about Arnlaug’s freakout one little bit.

TWENTY

SCARLETT

Wakingup alone after what Arnlaug, Pan, and I did this morning acts like a cold shower, tossing me from happy drowsiness to full alertness—and annoyance—in a split second.

They can’t have ditched me. I mean, they asked me to stay after… They held me while I fell asleep. And while we wereat it—God,I’m a romance novelist; I can saywhile we were fucking—they kept telling me how perfect it felt to be with me. How beautiful I was. How much they wanted me.

I glance at the clock on Pan’s nightstand. It’s nine twenty-three? I didn’t write this morning.

My stomach growls. Didn’t eat, either. First day since I got here that Pan didn’t deliver my breakfast and coffee, and it’s right after we had sex.

Mortal or immortal, all men are pigs.

Mood soured, I get up on wobbly legs to find my clothes. They’re sweaty and dirty. No way I’m putting them on. Pan should have clothes I can borrow.

My brain catches up with my nose. I smell bacon. And coffee. And it’s coming from a tray on top of his dresser. Was this here a moment ago?

My stomach insists that I don’t care, so I hurry to the tray, pluck two slices of bacon with my fingers and shove them into my mouth before I even notice the note on the side of the plate.

Arnlaug needed my help with something, and then hotel duties called.

I’ll find you later.

P.

PS. This morning was incredible

Not the warmest of notes, and I wouldn’t mind a little info on thesomethingArnlaug needed help with, but the last line saves it. This morningwasincredible. I’m still sore, but it’s the good kind of sore. The kind that will make me think of the three of us together all day.

I open the top drawer and find a white T-shirt to put on before I dig into the fried eggs and the chunk of yesterday’s quiche Pan has left me. Then I pull on a pair of his sweatpants and my sneakers, and coffee in hand, head outside.

I check that nobody is around, before I make the walk of shame up to my apartment in clothes too long to be mine.

Actually, scratch that. No walk of shame. This is the stride of pride. I had my first threesome, and it was with a god and a Berserker. I came like never before,andI finally know how to write thatménage à troisscene that’s been bugging me for weeks.

But I wanted to wake up with my men. To know everything is all right between us. That I wasn’t used.

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