Valhalla Cupcakes by Cassidy Cayman Page A

chance while you have it, Agnarsson, he told himself grimly, for it may never come again. He shook his head, causing her to stir. Gently running his fingers along her hairline, he soothed her back to sleep, continuing warring with himself.
    Of course he needed his revenge. He wasn’t giving up on that, merely putting it aside for a short time. Yes, he could leave now, but he still had no money. He thought of the money in the cash register below and scowled at himself. He could never steal from Audrey. That would make him lower than the witch who cursed him, and he intended to have an honorable revenge, knowing he was the better person when he squeezed the life from her lying throat.
    He’d made a promise to Audrey to help her with her debt collectors, and she’d promised to free him when that was done. It should have been that simple but he’d wanted retribution for so long, it was difficult to put it aside any longer. He really needed this choice to be taken from him. It was distracting.
    He rolled away from her, careful not to pull her off the bed with him, and knocked into the bedside table before looking down at her. She still slept like a baby, so he bumped into the side of the bed as he made his way toward the closet where his few items of clothing hung. She still lay there like a log. He’d completely worn her out. With a deep sigh, he kicked the foot of the bed.
    “Arrgh,” he cried dramatically, swearing to himself when his toe flamed with pain.
    She sat up, looking blindly left and right. “What is it? Erik? Are you okay?”
    “Just stumped my toe,” he said, hurrying to the bed and pushing her back down into it. “Go back to sleep.”
    “What are you doing, though?” She shoved away from him and wrapped the sheet tightly around herself, sitting up again. “Don’t go, okay? You can’t go.”
    He turned so she wouldn’t see his contented smile. Mission accomplished.
    “All right, Audrey.”

Chapter 7

    Audrey stared at the ceiling, finally swinging her legs to the floor. A few hours after Erik had attempted his escape, she woke up to find herself mashed against the naked Viking, one of his hands resting lightly across her chest and the other settling possessively against her hip.
    She had liked it so much it alarmed her into fleeing back to her own bedroom, and even though she knew she sorely needed sleep, it took her a long time to settle down. Just as her eyes were drifting shut and her mind stopped its feverish round of recriminations, her alarm cruelly went off.
    In the shower, she lathered up, trying and failing to not think about everywhere Erik’s hands and mouth had been. She scrubbed herself dry, flushed with embarrassment that she’d slept with him at all, but on only the second day of knowing him no less. Trying to talk herself down, so she could wake him up and have a somewhat normal day, she looked in the mirror at her shiny, shower fresh face and frowned sternly.
    “It’s not that big of a deal,” she said.
    So what if she had liked it so much she was afraid she would completely forget her responsibilities and spend the rest of the day rolling around in bed, and on the floor, and on the stairs— oh no, she couldn’t stop dreaming up scenarios. What if they got started and forgot to eat or drink, and actually died? She could see it happening, he was so addictive.
    No, she’d fallen asleep last night out of pure exhaustion, and was able to come to her senses. She was almost positive they wouldn’t die. So maybe she could crawl in with him for a few minutes before they got started with the day? She slapped herself. She was already running behind by being a basket case in the bathroom for so long. She needed to get him an alarm clock so she wouldn’t have to wake him up at all, and risk seeing all his golden skin and sinewy muscles. It took her another few minutes to snap out of her daze from just thinking about it, and she slapped herself again.
    “It’s not a big deal,” she