I step inside and scan the room. The bed is messy and unmade. Expensive shoes are overturned by the closet. Whoever lives here is gone. I reach for the trashcan by the door and toss the contents in the larger can attached to the cart.
I walk to the bed and straighten the sheets. There’s a note on the list that says when sheets should be changed. This one has another day.
I bend over and spread my hands over the comforter as my eyes fall on a framed photograph by the bed. It’s of a woman with long blonde hair—she’s older—but not old. Thirties, maybe. She smiles at the camera, her belly full. Her hand rests gently on the top.
“Well, isn’t this a welcome sight.”
I look over my shoulder and see Luke standing in the bathroom doorway. His shirt is partially buttoned, revealing his very toned upper body. His pants hang perfectly over his hips and he holds a toothbrush near his twisted, smirking lips. He’s way too perfect for a kid.
A kid.
Jailbait, for real.
I straighten, very aware of how short this skirt is.
“I’m almost done.”
“Don’t rush on my account,” he says, disappearing into the bathroom and walking back out without the toothbrush. His long fingers move to the buttons on his shirt, fastening them one by one. “What’s going on with all of this, anyway?”
“Punishment for missing the challenge last night.” I grab a few empty soda cans and trash spread around the room. “Apparently, humiliation is one of Victorine’s favorites.”
“And you didn
’t tell her to fuck off?”
I laugh. Luke knows me better than I thought.
“Can’t. She’s got me on this one.” I look around the room, my gaze landing on the photograph again. “She’s pretty.”
Luke’s jaw tenses. “She was. That’s my mom. Pop sent her away when I was eight.”
“Where?”
He shrugs. “Who knows. He was worried about her influence—you know, that pesky little humanity I carry in my genes.”
“Sounds complicated.”
“Parents always are, right?” He shoves his foot into his shoes.
“I wouldn’t know.”
He frowns. “Why not?”
“I don’t have parents. Valkyries are born to serve Freya and Odin.”
“So they’re kind of like your parents?”
“Yeah,” I say, feeling like all of that was a long time ago and very, very far away from this world. “I guess so.”
I walk to the door.
“Hildi,” he says. I turn back. “Don’t let that bitch drag you down. You know that’s what this is all about. Getting under your skin and making you second-guess yourself. It’s a bold strategy, but it also reveals something about her, too.”
“What’s that?” I ask, curious to hear.
“That’s she’s afraid.”
13