Kir and Logan exchanged a grim look before Kir smiled at Skye. “I think we need to sit and talk privately. It will be less confusing than if we try and have everyone explaining everything at once.”
“He’s right. And he’s probably the best one to explain all of this. There were things Magnus and I didn’t see, things only Logan and Kir know that might help with all of this.” Morgan’s expression was full of concern, and something else. Something that sent a wave of heat through her. It wasn’t the first time a man had wanted her, but it felt like no other had ever wanted her quite so badly. “Go with Kir. He’ll answer everything for you.”
“But—”
He placed his finger on her lips, silencing her. “No buts.”
“Not yet, anyway.”
She heard someone smack whoever had spoken, but at this point she didn’t care who it was. She couldn’t take her eyes off of Morgan Grimm. He was giving her a faint, sardonic smile, one that said he knew full well how everything seemed but was going to drag her further into it anyway. “Trust me.”
She blew her bangs out of her eyes. Damn it, she
did
trust him deep in her gut, but she couldn’t let him know that. It would give him far too much power over her. “I don’t know you.”
“You do. You just don’t remember it.”
She tilted her head and frowned. “I’m pretty sure I would have remembered meeting you.” As hot as he was, she would have more than remembered. She would have had wicked, dirty fantasies for months.
His smile turned sultry, as if he knew exactly what was going through her mind. “Go with Kir. We’ll discuss how memorable I am later.” He helped her to her feet, frowning at her hands and grimacing. She hadn’t realized how badly she was shaking until he brought her attention to them. “It’s all right, Skye. You don’t need to be afraid. No one here will ever harm a hair on your head.”
She looked down, trying to regain control. It was as if she were on the brink of something momentous, but she couldn’t stop. Like being at the top of the roller coaster and just waiting for that long, sharp drop into oblivion. “Everything’s been so strange. First I have one of my visions, one of a man killing an innocent family. Next thing I know, I’ve got tons of new babysitters and I’m not allowed to go to work anymore.”
Morgan held up his hand toward the people at the table. “The same thing happened to Jordan unexpectedly. She didn’t take it all that well, but she understood the need to be safe. You know now what we are,
who
we are. What Kir will do is help you understand who
you
are.” He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers.
She rolled her eyes. “I know exactly who I am. I’m Skylar Kincade.” But…not. She blinked as a vision flashed before her eyes.
She stood at Morgan’s side, watching as her lover hurled a war hammer toward an enemy who dodged out of the way. She called a warning to his brother, Magnus, who caught the hammer and threw it again, playing a deadly game of catch that could only end in bloodshed.
“That’s only one of your names.” She blinked as the vision faded, focusing once more on the here and now. “Do you remember anything about your life before you came to live here?”
“Yeah, sure. I was an only child, my parents raised me until I was sixteen. They died in a car accident, and I went to live with an aunt.”
“What were your parents’ names?”
“Elsa and Howard Kincade. My aunt’s name was Maria Bergen.”
“Elsa and Maria Bergen.” Morgan glanced over her shoulder but quickly turned his attention back to her. “Those are Norwegian names.”
She gestured toward her face. “My dad said that, with my face, they should have named me Brunhilde. Mom and Aunt Maria always chased him away when he said that.” Gods, she missed her family. Her parents had adored her, and she them. She’d never once doubted that she was loved by them, despite Aunt Maria’s ultimate rejection.
Behind her, someone choked, but Morgan merely smiled. True, it was a bit strained, but it was still beautiful. It lit his eyes, making them sparkle. “Does the term Jotunheim mean anything to you?”
That name jolted her. It did sound familiar. God, this was getting weirder and weirder. “You called Logan a Jotun, so I’d say it has something to do with him.”
She didn’t understand the confusion in his expression. “No. Actually, Logan comes from Muspelheim, the land of the fire Jotuns. No, the Norns of Fate hail from Jotunheim, a land of frost and rock giants.”
“Norns of Fate.” That was a name that did mean something. As a child, her mother would read the myths of her homeland as bedtime stories, but when Skye was about eight years old, her parents told her she should read to herself. She’d put the mythology aside and started reading books like C.S. Lewis’s
The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe,
but for some reason the Norns of Fate had stuck out when the other myths had slowly faded away. “Like the Moirai? The three Fates of Greek mythology?”
“Exactly like them, except you’re not a goddess. You’re a Norn.”
She sputtered out a laugh. “Whoa. Back it up there. I’m a Norn?”
He nodded.
“And you’re a god?”
He nodded again. “You’ve got it.”
“I’ve got something, all right.” She tugged on her hands but he didn’t let go. “Which Norn am I supposed to be?”
“Skuld, the Norn of the future.”
Before she could object to something so blatantly ridiculous, Kir stepped beside her and placed his fingers over her mouth. “You spouted prophecy at Frigg when she challenged your right to be at the funeral. Remember what you said?”
Skye tilted her head, and the strange urge to speak came over her once more.
“
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.”
Morgan smiled, looking oddly proud of her. “Do you know what it means?”
She shook her head, terrified. Why wasn’t she saying what she wanted to? It was like some alien force had taken over her body.
Morgan pressed a soft kiss to her lips, startling her. His mouth was soft, yet firm, and he didn’t press his advantage.
She wanted a real taste of him, more than that encouraging peck.
“You’re doing great, sweetheart.” That endearment rocketed through her like a lightning bolt. “You can do this.” He kissed her again, a little more firmly, a little more possessively. She could almost taste him, but he wasn’t giving her what she needed. She parted her lips, inviting him inside.
He took what she offered, taking the kiss and making it his own. His arms tightened around her as he took his time, letting her know exactly who was in charge. She’d given him what he really wanted, and now there was no going back.
When the kiss ended she was dazed, panting and ready to leave the Tate-Saeter home. She wanted to be alone with Morgan, to feel him doing more than devouring her mouth.
She wanted him to devour all of her. She opened her mouth to beg for another kiss—
“Then comes the high
Sigfathers son,
Vidar, and shall
the wolf war give.
In Kvedrung’s son
his sword pierced
to the heart;
avenged was his father.”
Skye shook so hard her teeth started to chatter. “What’s happening to me?”
Morgan’s determined expression didn’t waver. “You’re speaking prophecy.”
“What?” She’d had prophetic dreams and the occasional vision, but she’d never starting speaking in poetry.
Not until she’d met the Tate-Saeters.
It was these people. It had to be. They were doing this to her somehow, forcing her gift to speak through her instead of her speaking about her gift. It was the only thing that made any sense. “Morgan.” She didn’t know why, but he was the only one who could make all this stop. “Please.”
He kissed her again, and she could feel her power respond to him. Why him? “I can’t. You’re beginning to wake up. Everything you thought you knew, every part of your mortal life, was imposed upon your memory. None of it was real.”
She shook her head and began struggling against Morgan’s hold. “I don’t want to understand. I want to be me.” It made no sense, but the fear that she was about to lose everything she’d ever known gripped her so tightly she could barely breathe. She looked up at Morgan, aware of how desperate she must look. “Please, Morgan.” Something terrible would happen if this continued, she just knew it.
He pulled her close, cradling her head against his chest, his hold on her both soothing and proving once and for all that she was no longer in control of her destiny. “I’m so sorry,
elskede
.” He nipped her earlobe, sending tremors through her. “Remember, Skuld. Remember who you are.” He nipped harder, and she gasped. The sensation was far more pleasurable than she’d expected. “Remember
me
.”
Skye closed her eyes and sobbed as visions flooded over her. She was forced by something beyond herself to speak.
“High blows Heimdallr, the horn is aloft;
Odin communes with Mimir’s head;
Trembles Yggdrasill’s towering Ash;
The old tree wails when the Ettin is loosed.
What of the Aesir? What of the Elf-folk?
All Jötunheim echoes, the Aesir are at council;
The dwarves are groaning before their stone doors,
Wise in rock-walls; wit ye yet, or what?
Hrymr sails from the east, the sea floods onward;
The monstrous Beast twists in mighty wrath;
The Snake beats the waves, the Eagle is screaming;
The gold-neb tears corpses, Naglfar is loosed.
From the east sails the keel; come now Múspell’s folk
Over the sea-waves, and Loki steereth;
There are the warlocks all with the Wolf,
With them is the brother of Býleistr faring.
Surtr fares from southward with switch-eating flame;
On his sword shimmers the sun of the war-gods;
The rocks are falling, and fiends are reeling,
Heroes tread Hel-way, heaven is cloven.
Then to the Goddess a second grief cometh,
When Odin fares to fight with the Wolf,
And Beli’s slayer, the bright god, with Surtr;
There must fall Frigg’s beloved.
Odin’s son goeth to strife with the Wolf,
Vídarr, speeding to meet the slaughter-beast;
The sword in his hand to the heart he thrusteth
Of the fiend’s offspring; avenged is his Father.
Now goeth Hlödyn’s glorious son
Not in flight from the Serpent, of fear unheeding;
All the earth’s offspring must empty the homesteads,
When furiously smiteth Midgard’s defender.
The sun shall be darkened, earth sinks in the sea,—
Glide from the heaven the glittering stars;
Smoke-reek rages and reddening fire:
The high heat licks against heaven itself.”
Skye lifted her tearstained face from Morgan’s shoulder. Kir, whom she remembered as Baldur, looked sympathetic, the bright god’s inner self far more beautiful than his outer. Logan—or Loki—held Baldur’s hand, their fingers twined tight as Jordan snuggled between them. Vali the Avenger nodded once as Tyr, known as Travis, smiled.
And the twins. Magni’s expression was grim, but it was Modi who held her attention, promised to make everything all right again. “I remember. May the gods help me.” Because everything she’d ever believed about herself had been a lie.
Chapter Five
“Tell us what happened.” Morgan led a rattled Skye to the white sofa and settled her down. It killed him to see the tears still on her cheeks, so he wiped them away. It was a travesty to see anything other than a smile gracing her face. “Can someone get her some tea or something?”
“I’ll take care of it.” Logan headed for his kitchen, his sanctuary. He’d surprised them all with his domesticity. He was an incredible cook and had fed them all on numerous occasions.
“Thanks.” He turned back to Skye and wiped away her tears. “It’s okay, Skye. Just tell us what happened.” What had caused that look of grief and despair just before she began to speak the prophecy?
“I changed something. Something I wasn’t supposed to.” She sniffled, the sound oddly endearing. The tip of her nose was red, her cheeks blotched, and her eyes were bloodshot.
She was so strong, so beautiful, and despite her fears she’d tasted divine. There was no way he was going to be able to resist taking her to bed. She brought out every protective instinct he had. Through everything that had happened to her she hadn’t collapsed, but her fragility was evident in her shaking hands and continuing tears.
He had to get her to see that she was safe. He wouldn’t allow anything to harm her, and once he and Magnus had
Mjolnir
he would be more than capable of enforcing that vow. “Shh. It’s going to be okay.”
“No, it’s not.” She accepted the tissue Magnus held out with a watery smile. “But thank you.”
“What exactly happened? Can you tell us what exactly you changed?” Travis spoke quietly, like you would to someone who’d been involved in a horrible crime. As a one-time PI and the god of justice, Travis was used to speaking to victims.
She made a cute face that made him want to pull her into his lap and cuddle her. She looked like a confused little puppy, endearing and lost, and he wanted to kiss her again so badly he ached. “Our job is to set the fate of gods and men, not to interfere in it.”
“And the Norns under you carry out your edicts.” Morgan took over. No one else, not even Travis, would question his Norn.
She looked up at him and he saw the sad knowledge that was the burden of a Norn. “Yes. For good or ill, to alter fate is to alter the fabric of time itself. What must be will be, and it is not my place to change it.”