Morgan's Fate

by Dana Marie Bell

  But that wasn’t what captured, and held, Morgan’s attention.

  He had a woman tucked under his arm, complaining softly about something Morgan paid no attention to whatsoever.

  Dear gods. Could it be? He hadn’t seen her in centuries, but his heart leapt at the sight of her strong jaw, her cool blonde hair. Even her sky-blue eyes were the same.

  After all this time, he still wanted to know what those perfect, heart-shaped lips tasted like, wanted to savor and caress every inch of her skin.

  Skuld met his gaze and blushed a fierce red. Even the tip of her nose burned bright before she turned away from him and back to Val. Morgan’s cock pulsed at that small sign of interest.

  Magnus gasped. “Holy crap. Is that Skuld?” He jammed his elbow into Morgan’s side. “Hey, bro! You’ll finally get your shot at her!”

  Morgan stared at the blonde and groaned. Hell. He had a boner for Fate, the same one he’d been warned off of all those years ago. All the reasons to not claim her still existed, still tied him away from her as much as the rope Gleipnir had once bound Fenris away from the world.

  Shit.

  “Morgan?”

  Skuld was watching them curiously, her pale blue eyes running over him before she blushed again. Of all the Fates, he had to pick this one to want. She literally held their future in her hands.

  She glanced at him again out of the corner of her eye and, as impossible as it seemed, that deep red blush darkened. She lowered her lashes, hiding her eyes from him. She gripped the edges of her purse until her knuckles turned white.

  Even standing across the room from her he could see the way her breath sped up.

  “Morgan. Do it.” He glanced Magnus, who nodded at him. “Make something good come out of all this shit. Get the woman you’ve loved forever.” Magnus smiled sadly. “One of us should.”

  He found his gaze drawn to Skuld again, almost growling at the way she’d transferred her grip to Uncle Val’s arm. He wanted her to hold him in her hands. His cock didn’t care that she was supposed to be off-limits. It stood straight up, saluting the delectable female hanging on his uncle’s arm.

  Magnus was right. Their father was gone, dead, lost to the Old Man’s schemes. And Morgan was never going to listen to one of his grandfather’s lies ever again.

  First, he would honor his father, bury him in the Viking way. Then…

  Then he’d test his fate. The beautiful, confused woman would be his, in every sense of the word.

  “Magnus?”

  “Hmm?”

  “She’s mine.”

  Magnus patted his arm. “I know, bro. I know.”

  Chapter Two

  Why was she here? Skye didn’t belong here, not with these weird people. They’d practically kept her under lock and key since the vision she’d had sent her racing to warn Fenris Saeter that someone was after him.

  Someone willing to kill an entire family just to frame him for murder.

  But there she sat, at the front of the funeral parlor with a stranger’s huge-ass family, listening to two women screech at each other about who had rights where a dead man was concerned. A dead man who looked disturbingly familiar, with his bright red hair and fierce features.

  A man she was certain she’d never met before.

  “He was my son! How dare you make arrangements without me?” The young-looking blonde woman did not seem old enough to have a son the age of Fred Grimm. His sister, maybe, but not his mother. Who did she think she was kidding?

  Still, that shrieking voice was also disturbingly familiar. Skye shook her head, trying to remember where she’d heard that voice before.

  The woman who did look old enough snorted. “Because he was my husband, you old witch. That gives me every right.”

  Skye shook her head. These people were crazy, and she needed to get out of here before she caught whatever it was that had driven them nuts. Staring around the room as people literally took sides, she was afraid it might be catching. Not even Val could make this comfortable for her, and he’d done his best to make her feel like she was at home no matter where the others stashed her. He was turning into the big brother she’d always wanted but never had.

  Val had laughed, delighted, when she’d told him she secretly called him the Terminator. How could you not like the guy? He was fiercely devoted to his family to the point of being overprotective, and adored his nieces and nephews with a love usually reserved for one’s own children. He’d told her he’d sacrificed himself to a madman to keep them safe, and she believed him. She’d sensed the truth ringing in his words.

  “Enough.” The crowd parted as several people made their way forward. Logan, his bad-boy looks tempered by his dark suit, had his arm around a brunette with a thin, clever face and dark-rimmed glasses. Jordan Tate-Saeter was married to both Kir and Logan, a relationship that made Skye blush every time she thought about it. She was obviously pregnant, about five months along, the bump definitely visible as the twins she carried grew inside her.

  Next to Jordan and Logan stood Kir, his pale good looks eclipsing almost everyone in the room, including the women. He was one of the most beautiful men she’d ever seen, and utterly devoted to his lovers. The pendant at his neck caught the light just right, gleaming in the otherwise dim room. “Jeanne is right, whether you choose to believe it or not.”

  Flanking Kir were the two men she’d seen at the Tate-Saeters’, two men with bright red hair that matched the dead man’s and dazzling blue eyes darker than her own, sapphire to her sky. They were so close in looks it was obvious they were twins, with matching chiseled jaws and wide shoulders. They too wore dark suits, and their arms were crossed over their chests. But where one twin stared at the screeching harpy and glowered, the other stared at Skye with a hungry expression that made her want to squirm in her seat, and not in a bad way.

  Superimposed over the vision of the men in suits were the two men dressed as, of all things, fierce Viking warriors. But it was still the one twin who snared her gaze.

  Why did she remember him? Worse, why did she remember wanting him?

  There was something about Morgan Grimm that called to her, more so than his twin, Magnus, despite how similar they appeared. It was as if she’d craved him forever. She wanted to get up out of her chair and cross over to him, hold his hand and stand next to him. Just to support him through this tough time, of course.

  She sighed. That was a lie. She was supposed to be with him. The certainty that he would eventually belong to her rang through her, settling into her bones and becoming simply a part of her like her hair color or her unholy love affair with nachos.

  Yup. The crazy was definitely catching. Time to get the hell out of Dodge. The last thing she needed was to start something with one of the people who surrounded Kiran Tate-Saeter.

  No matter how right Morgan Grimm felt to her senses.

  The family relationships between these people were confusing as hell. Jordan was married in spirit to both Kiran Tate and Logan Saeter, but legally only to Logan. The three had taken each other’s last names, so they were the Tate-Saeters. Kiran was the uncle of Morgan, Magnus, Jamie and Jeff, making Jordan the aunt of her half brother and sister and her two stepbrothers. Jeff was the partner of Fenris, who was not the cousin of Logan Saeter no matter what they’d originally told her. That made Logan both Jeff’s uncle through marriage, and his father-in-law. Making Aunt Jordan her nephew/brother’s mother-in-law.

  The song “I’m My Own Grandpa” started playing in her head. Thank you, Ray Stevens, for providing the perfect musical accompaniment to my crazy thoughts.

  At least Jamie hadn’t married someone related to her siblings. That would have made it even more complex. Trying to keep everything and everyone straight was giving Skye a severe headache.

  She glanced away, back toward Jeanne and the lady who claimed to be Fred Grimm’s mother, but she could feel his gaze boring into her, demanding she turn her attention back to him.

  She ignored him as
best she could, but she could feel the heat climbing her cheeks. His regard was intense.

  “He should never have married you. You were beneath him.”

  Jeanne’s brows rose as Frederica Grimm sneered, but Skye could tell she’d had enough. Jeanne’s hands were clenched, the knuckles white. Mrs. Grimm had been screaming at Jeanne nonstop since she’d arrived twenty minutes ago, and she was about to get her ass beat if Skye was any judge. “And above him, and bent over in front of him, and—” The sound of gagging cut her off. “Oh please, Jeff. How do you think you got here?”

  “Mom!”

  Skye almost laughed at the little-boy whine in Jeffrey Grimm’s voice. The ookie face he made was absolutely adorable, and from the look on his boyfriend’s face she wasn’t the only one who thought so.

  “You allowed the abomination to come to my son’s funeral.” Steam was practically pouring out of the crazy lady’s ears as she glared at Fenris Saeter.

  Jeanne snarled at Mrs. Grimm. “He’s my son-in-law, and can go wherever the hell I do.”

  Mrs. Grimm laughed. “Then he can follow you there.” She raised her hand, prepared to strike Jeanne Grimm down. Skye stood, feeling that somehow, some way, that blow would be lethal if it landed. She had to protect Jeanne Grimm from the crazy lady before— Lightning flashed, so sudden and so brilliant Skye had to hide her eyes. Thunder crashed, shaking the room. “Enough!” Kir strode forward, dark glasses perched on his nose. Skye frowned, confused. Those hadn’t been there before. His hand was clasped tightly around his pendant, yet somehow she could still see the glow of it through his fingers. “Enough, Frigg.”

  Frigg. Skye frowned at Kir, wondering why that name slithered through her, a cold touch that left her shivering. A vision of Frederica Grimm with long blonde hair, dressed in a flowing red gown and wearing a gold and silver torque superimposed itself over the actual woman. Frigg nodded to her once, smirking, before turning to Kir.

  What the hell was that all about? The last thing she wanted was the attention of more crazy.

  “It will never be enough. Not while my beloved son Baldur consorts with monsters.”

  Baldur? That name… Why did that name make her want to bow her head in respect? None of this made sense, damn it!

  The hairs on Skye’s arms stood straight up as Kir took another step toward Frigg. “Logan is no monster. You are.”

  “No, Blondie. Not here, not now.” Logan took hold of Kir’s arm.

  “Sit, Kir. Stay.” Jordan’s voice was shaking, but she too took hold of Kir, reaching for his other arm and clasping it tightly.

  For just a second it seemed that Kir would attack the woman he’d called Frigg, but after a moment his head bowed. He stepped back into the embrace of his lovers and everyone except Frigg seemed to relax. The hairs that had been standing up on Skye’s arms settled back down.

  Whatever Kir had been planning to do had been averted. For now, anyway.

  “Here.”

  Skye looked up to find Morgan Grimm holding out his hand to her.

  “Come with me.”

  “Yes. Get her out of here. She doesn’t belong either.” Frigg waved her hand dismissively. “None of you do.”

  Skye was really beginning to dislike the woman who claimed to be Fred Grimm’s mother. She opened her mouth to give her a piece of her mind when something odd happened. She saw the woman bent with grief, sobbing her heart out while at her feet lay— “Then is fulfilled Hlín’s

  second sorrow, when Óðinn goes to fight with the wolf, and Beli’s slayer, bright, against Surtr.

  Then shall Frigg’s sweet friend fall.”

  Frigg stepped back as Skye’s voice rang out, her eyes wide with horror.

  Skye had no idea what was going on, or why she’d said something so weird, but she took Morgan’s outstretched hand and allowed him to pull her away from the madness surrounding the casket of Fred Grimm.

  “Nice one.”

  “I have no idea why I said that.” Or why she felt so comfortable with the hot man leading her to the front door and possible freedom.

  “I do, and I’ll protect you as best I can.”

  She blinked. “Um. Yeah. I have enough protectors.” She pointed her thumb over her shoulder. She just knew the Terminator was watching them. She could feel those eyes of his boring into them, keeping an eye on all of them.

  But the Terminator had turned out to be a cuddly teddy bear in disguise. It looked like it was the women of this wacko family you had to watch out for.

  “Ah. Uncle Val is watching out for you.”

  “Uncle Val?” Damn. This family must have a direct line to the fountain of youth.

  Morgan shrugged. “It’s a long story.”

  “I keep hearing that, but no one’s willing to read it to me.”

  That startled a quickly muffled laugh out of him. Morgan sat next to her, keeping hold of her hand when she tried to pull away. He absently stroked her knuckles, his gaze holding hers despite herself. “I give you my word, after the funeral we’ll help you make sense of it all.”

  The shrieking harpy sailed out the door, but not without one final death glare at Morgan Grimm and the rest of her family. “I will find a way to free Baldur from you, Loki.”

  Morgan stood, blocking Skye’s view of Mrs. Grimm. “In your dreams, Grandmother. Kir and Logan have the support of the sons of Thor.”

  Grandmother? Sons of Thor? Was this some sort of secret cult thingy, and “grandmother” was a title? That might actually make a weird sort of sense. It certainly made more sense than these young men being the children of a man who appeared to be the same age they were.

  “Your father would be ashamed of you, but what can I expect from the children of a Jotun?” Mrs. Grimm sneered.

  “My father loved me. Can you say the same, Grandmother?” Morgan didn’t sound fazed by the vicious jab.

  Man, she was getting a headache from all of this. She rubbed at her forehead wearily. She needed a nap after this. Or a shot or two of tequila. Whichever she could get her hands on first.

  “At least you and your twin aren’t part human.” And with that last jab she was gone, trailed by Chanel No. 5 and half the room, not all of who looked happy about leaving. One blonde in particular was sobbing as she reluctantly left, her gaze straying one final time to the casket.

  Human. Right. Skye began looking around for the white rabbit, because hell if she hadn’t fallen down its hole into Wonderland. “I so need a drink.”

  She thought she’d said it quietly enough, but Jeff Grimm and Fenris Saeter both turned and stared at her with amused expressions before talking quietly with Jordan. The woman was standing by the casket, her shoulders slumped as she sobbed on Kir’s shoulder. Logan was rubbing her arms, obviously trying to keep her calm.

  Off to their side, Travis Yardley-Rudiger was holding his fiancée, Jamie Grimm, while she quietly cried. Jamie sniffled and wiped away a tear. “I can’t believe them. How could they do this to Dad? They want to confront us, fine, but do it after the funeral, damn it.”

  “Shh. Forgive it, but don’t forget it, sweetheart.” Travis pulled Jamie away from the casket, making room for Magnus to step forward and pay his respects.

  “Let them go, Jamie. They aren’t worthy of our anger, or our father.” Morgan retook his seat next to her and picked up her hand again. “Your name is Skylar, right?”

  She nodded. “They told you about me?”

  For just a second his expression turned wary. “A little bit.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss.” Morgan should be up at the front of the room with the rest of the immediate family, all of who looked far too old to be Mr. Grimm’s children. “But shouldn’t you be up there?” Not back with her, stopping her from leaving?

  Morgan tugged her to her feet, tucking her hand through his arm. “Thank you, and you’re right. I should be.” She followed him to the casket, unwilling to make a scene. No matter what she thought of all this madness, a man was dead. A man these people
obviously loved.

  Morgan placed his free hand on his brother’s shoulder. His voice, when he spoke, was filled with a mixture of rage and grief that sent shivers of apprehension down her spine. “We will avenge him, Magnus.”

  “I know.”

  Morgan squeezed Magnus’s shoulder before tugging her forward. “Skylar Kincade, meet my twin brother, Magnus Grimm. Magnus, this is Skye.”

  The brothers exchanged an unreadable glance, then Magnus held out his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Skye.”

  “And you. I’m sorry for your loss.”

  Magnus nodded his head, grief tightening his features. “Thank you.” He slid his arm around her shoulders and she tensed. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she preferred Morgan’s touch to Magnus’s.

  Magnus smiled briefly and pulled her away from the casket. He bent and whispered in her ear. “Would you be willing to sit with Morgan? I have some family business to deal with before I can join him.”

  “Uh…” All she’d wanted to do was go, but it seemed the Grimm family was determined to keep her around. She sighed, defeated. How was she supposed to say no to a man who was mourning his father? “Sure.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate that. Dad’s death has hit him pretty hard, even if he’s not showing it. Morgan’s all tough on the outside but a marshmallow on the inside.”

  “Like Uncle Val.”

  Magnus blinked, his gaze darting over to the intimidating man standing next to Jamie and Travis. Okay, so marshmallow might not be the first thing that sprang to mind when you met Val’s cold gaze. “Yeah. Just like Uncle Val.” He smiled weakly and walked her back to Morgan. “Keep an eye on her, brother.”

  “Will do.” Morgan placed her hand through his arm.

  “Why do you need to keep an eye on me?” Skye was becoming frightened. She was terrified they weren’t ever going to let her out of their sight. If this was a kidnapping, it was the weirdest one she’d ever heard of. Who carted the victim off to a funeral?

  “I promised I’d answer your questions after the funeral, Skye. I’ll hold to that promise, but for now, all I’ll say is we believe you may be in danger.” Morgan pointed to his father’s casket. “Danger that could wind up with you in the same position as my father. I know you don’t believe me, but we’re trying to protect you.”