Morgan's Fate

Chapter Ten

“We have to be the ones to save Sleipnir.”

Morgan glanced over at the woman he’d dragged into his condo two weeks ago.

Okay, maybe dragged was too big an exaggeration. She’d been sleeping peacefully when he placed her in his bed, settled her among his sheets.

His home, his bed. He shivered hard, the thought racing through him that, for once in his long life, he didn’t have to share everything with Magnus. This home and Skye were his and his alone, and he’d been giddy about that ever since he first placed her on his sheets. Hell, when she’d woken up that first morning the faint scent of his skin had clung to her, driving him mad with need. He laughed, thinking on that first morning together. He looked over at her pacing in front of the windows and grinned.

“What?”

He chuckled again. “Coffee?”

She grunted, and he laughed harder, but he got up and got her the damn coffee. He’d learned his lesson their first morning together. She’d woken with a lazy murmur, opened those pale, arresting eyes, and he’d smiled at the sight. She was so precious, like a sleepy kitten, all warm and fuzzy. He couldn’t help it. He’d kissed the tip of her nose.

How was he supposed know that simply saying, “Good morning, sweetheart,” would make her screech like a Valkyrie with her fingers caught in a meat grinder? Hell, two weeks later his ears were still ringing. She’d bolted out of bed and run for the front door, all the while yelling about axe murderers. Apparently, Norns were subject to some interesting dreams.

At least she’d still been in the clothes she’d worn the night before.

It had taken him a full fifteen minutes to calm her down, but only the scent of freshly brewed coffee had tempted her to stop. She’d stood outside Logan’s door, sniffing like the kitten he’d named her and literally mewling. He’d raced back into his condo, quickly brewed her a cup of coffee and lured her to his side with it.

Then he’d dragged her back inside and explained that she now lived with him in this condo while she soaked in caffeine and slowly came awake.

Then she’d blinked at him sleepily and asked about the kitchen table. She’d wanted to know if they should trade with Magnus, since he was still bitching about asses and Cheerios every time he sat down to breakfast with them.

Morgan wanted to spread her out and make her his breakfast.

He shifted in his seat, suddenly rock hard. They needed to do that, to christen every room in the condo, make it theirs.

“Morgan?”

“Hmm?” He blinked up at her, smiling when he realized she was standing over him. Her mug was on the coffee table, and her arms were crossed over that magnificent chest. Her blue eyes blazed with irritation. Apparently she’d called his name more than once.

“We can’t let Logan go after Sleipnir. It’s just too damn dangerous.”

“Mm-hmm.” She squeaked adorably when he tugged, stumbling into his lap and automatically wrapping her arms around his neck to steady herself.

“I also think if we take Magnus to get Sleipnir it will take his mind off of Mjolnir.”

He stroked her hip, his mind half on what she was saying and half on what he wanted to do to her. She was settling herself more comfortably in his lap, even if her concerned tone hadn’t changed. She was just as worried about Magnus as he was, and that made her even more desirable in his eyes. “I agree. I just wish I knew what the Old Man is up to.”

“That worries me. Ragnarrok is coming, yet Odin sits on his throne in Valhalla and does nothing? I don’t think so. There’s a reason he left Hugin and Munin to guard Sleipnir. He’s up to something, but what?”

He frowned. “Wasn’t there something in the prophecy about him consulting with Mimir’s head? Could he be doing that?”

Skye allowed her power to seep over her.

“Now Garm howls loud

before Gnipahellir,

The fetters will burst,

and the wolf run free;

Much do I know,

and more can see

Of the fate of the gods,

the mighty in fight.

Brothers shall fight

and fell each other,

And sisters’ sons

shall kinship stain;

Hard is it on earth,

with mighty whoredom;

Axe-time, sword-time,

shields are sundered,

Wind-time, wolf-time,

ere the world falls;

Nor ever shall men

each other spare.

Fast move the sons

of Mim, and fate

Is heard in the note

of the Gjallarhorn;

Loud blows Heimdall,

the horn is aloft,

In fear quake all

who on Hel-roads are.

Yggdrasil shakes,

and shiver on high

The ancient limbs,

and the giant is loose;

To the head of Mim

does Othin give heed,

But the kinsman of Surt

shall slay him soon.

How fare the gods?

how fare the elves?

All Jotunheim groans,

the gods are at council;

Loud roar the dwarfs

by the doors of stone,

The masters of the rocks:

would you know yet more?”

“So he could be at the Well.”

“It’s possible.”

Morgan settled her a little bit more comfortably on his lap as she shuddered. “If Odin isn’t in Valhalla, it might be our best chance to get to Sleipnir, but we have no way of knowing if he’s there now or not.”

“There will be a fight if you go after him.”

“Maybe.” He stared into her eyes. “After everything Logan and Kir have done for us, we owe this to them.”

Skye studied his expression for a few moments before a relieved smile crossed her face. “I agree.”

“But if we tell them what we’re doing…”

She nodded. “They’ll try and come with us.”

“It all depends on whether or not Odin is home.”

“And how sneaky the three of us can be.”

His brows rose. “You’ll be staying here.”

She patted his chest. “You keep thinking that.”

He stood up, ignoring her squawk of surprise. There was no way in hell he was bringing her anywhere near where Grimm might be. He’d seen what his grandfather was capable of. The thought of Grimm getting his hands on Skye made him want to smash something. Preferably Grimm’s face. “Oh, no. You are not going with us. If Grimm gets to you, it’s all over.” In more ways than one. He hadn’t taken his time, making sure Skye felt safe with him, just to have the Old Man fuck things up.

“I don’t remember the original prophecy, or what I changed. It’s possible he’s not after me.” She frowned as he carried her into the bedroom. “Morgan…”

“He doesn’t know that. Even if he does, he’s not the type to take chances. Think of how long he’s been trying to kill Logan and Kir.” He set her on the bed and set his hands on either side of her head. “He’s tried using Jamie as a lure, nearly skinned Jeff alive, and had Uncle Val shoot Jordan. He even tried killing his own son and placing the blame on others. He’s a vicious bastard who won’t stop and think, ‘Hmm, maybe she doesn’t know anything. Aw shucks, I’m feeling all happy and sparkly today. I think I’ll let this one live.’”

She rolled her eyes at his poor Barney the Dinosaur imitation. “Then how do we know that Sleipnir isn’t a lure too?”

He didn’t want to think that. It would break Logan’s heart if his son was still firmly on Grimm’s side. “It’s a chance we have to take, because if we’re wrong, Sleipnir could die.”

She sighed deeply. “That’s what I was thinking.” She put her finger over his lips. “I need to go with you. My power will be useful there.”

He scowled. The thought of her on the same plane as Grimm was unbearable. To have her actually enter Valhalla? He didn’t think he’d be able to stop himself from tearing the place down brick by golden brick. “Skye—”

“Listen to me. I could open my senses, see things before they happen. I could help you and Magnus avoid guards, alarms, that sort of thing.” She huffed. “I need to do something to help that scared kid, Magnus.”

He gazed down at her. He took in her determined expression, felt the way her fingers clenched on his biceps. She had a tight hold on him as she tried to convey how deeply she felt about this. “Shit.”

She grinned. She obviously knew she’d won. “What are we going to tell Logan and Kir?”

He tangled his legs with hers and settled next to her. He stroked her stomach absently. “I don’t know. We’ll think of something.”

“Uh, Morgan?”

She’d gone breathless under his touch. “Yes?”

“Could you stop touching me?”

“Why?” He slipped just the tips of his fingers beneath her blouse, touched her warm skin.

“Because I can’t think when you do that.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “And this is a bad thing why?”

She swatted him, but she was laughing. “Morgan.”

“I’m serious. We have to go talk to Magnus, set up how we’re going to get to the Bifrost Bridge without alerting either Logan or Kir. We have to make sure Mjol—mph.”

As far as he was concerned, they were done talking. They were in his bed, he was touching her, and damn it, he’d been a very good boy for longer than he cared to think.

If she didn’t push him away in the next two seconds, he was going to be a very happy man.

She curled her arms around his neck, her nails scratching at the nape of his neck. Her mouth opened under his, welcoming him inside.

He had to make sure. She’d had so much taken away from her, he wouldn’t take her choices. “If you don’t want this, stop me now.”

All traces of humor were gone. With the most serious expression he’d ever seen on her face, she reached between them and grabbed his cock through his jeans. “I think I’ve always wanted this.”

He shuddered. “Yes, we have.” From the way her eyes widened he knew how savage he sounded, but he didn’t care. Skylar Kincade was finally his, and he would make sure the entire world knew it.

In between kisses hotter than any he’d ever given or received they managed to remove their clothes. Elbows and knees flew, banging into each other as they eagerly got rid of the cloth that separated their skin. She was giggling, laughing as he ran his whiskers down her side again. The first time he hadn’t even done it on purpose. He’d just been trying to get his jeans off, and his hands slipped. His face scraped along her side, his whiskers tickling her, and she’d lost it.

It was the worst, most uncoordinated seduction he’d ever made, and it was the best feeling in the world. Her hands were running all over him even as she laughed. “Anything broken?”

“Other than my pride?”

She curled on her side, laughing, her legs bumping his knees.

He blew a raspberry on her thigh. “Brat.”

She drew her leg up, either trying to get away or give him one hell of a view. “Am not.”

He nipped her hip, sucking up a mark. “Are too.”

“Ugh.” She wasn’t laughing now. She was holding still, her muscles tense as he slowly rolled her onto her back.

He gazed into her eyes and saw his future laid out before him. He was never going to let her walk away ever again. He just wasn’t strong enough. “Hi.”

She stroked his hair away from his face. “Hi.”

When she tugged him down for a kiss he went, the urgency that had been eating at him nearly gone. She deserved better than for Morgan to revert to his Viking roots, fucking her like he would some wench tumbled in a tavern.

He would show her how much she meant to him. He’d yearned for centuries for her, dreamed of her even when he was balls deep in someone else. He would do everything he could to show her what she meant to him. She was precious, and he would prove it to her.

The lazy slide of skin on skin intoxicated him. The scent of her filled his senses. He was drowning in her, kissing down her body, taking his time to worship her as she deserved. He lingered over her nipples, slowly loving them into hard, wet peaks, her sighs his reward. She moaned when he reached her stomach, the muscles tightening under his touch. She no longer squirmed away from the feel of his whiskers. Instead, she arched into his touch, begging him silently for more.

When he reached the apex of her thighs she opened eagerly for him, inviting him to taste, to touch, to feast on her until they were both sated. She moaned at the first touch of his tongue, moving her hips until they’d established a rhythm that had her panting with need.

Before too long she was coming on his tongue, her little gasps and sighs becoming one long, drawn-out groan. She cried out beneath him, her body bowing, arching, thrusting her beautiful breasts upward, and begging for his touch.

When she came down, her back once more on the bed, her legs wide and loose around him, he moved up her body again. He kissed each breast before he took her mouth once more, letting her taste herself on his tongue.

She pushed at his shoulder and he went where she directed, landing on his back. Oh, man. Please, please let her be about to return the favor.

She did, bending so swiftly to his cock he had no doubt as to her hunger for him. She sucked him in and took him deep, almost to the root. He buried his hands in her hair, not guiding, simply holding on for dear life.

Just before he thought he would lose it she let him go with a wet plop. Where he’d worshipped her, she’d devoured him, awakened his deepest hungers. She straddled him, but before she could take him inside he took back the control she’d stolen from him.

He grabbed her hips and pulled her up with him until his head rested against the headboard, his shoulders propped up. When she took him into her body he pulled her head down, kissing her, fucking her mouth with his tongue.

She rode him steadily, deeply, her head thrown back in pleasure. He stroked between her legs, the hard nub of flesh slick under his fingers. She whimpered when he pulled her forward, sucking her nipple between his teeth, biting down gently. He wanted her to come, to strangle him in her wet heat, to— She cried out, her movements stuttering almost to a stop. She spasmed around him, her pussy clenching him so hard he almost came with her.

Almost.

He grabbed a hold of her hips and held her steady as he pounded into her, all sense, all reason lost in the pleasure of her. The worship was over. It was time to conquer, to claim. He wanted to mark her, to brand her so that she never even looked at another man.

Skye sobbed, her nails digging into his chest as he dug his feet into the mattress and took her. “Fuck me. Oh, gods, fuck me harder.”

Morgan saw red, his vision narrowed down to her. Her face, her body, filled him as he gave her what she’d begged for. He fucked her hard and deep, his balls drawing tight as he neared his peak.

She screamed, her nails drawing little half circles of blood in his flesh as she came again. This time, Morgan tumbled over the edge with her, his own cries nearly drowning hers out.

So good. It was never this good, this all-encompassing, all-over orgasm that rocked him to his very soul. He poured everything he had into her, gave her everything he was.

When it was over, she was slumped over him, his half-hard cock still twitching inside her. They were breathing hard, panting, muscles spasming with their release.

She rested her head against is chest. “Whoa.”

He chuckled. “Yeah. Whoa.”

She licked her lips and did some sort of weird, wiggling thing with her hips that had his cock twitching with interest once more. Gods, all she had to do was breathe and he was rock hard, eager for her. “Again?”

He grinned at her moan as he thrust into her once more. “Again.”

“Your recovery time is—”

“Divine?”

Her laughter quickly died as he showed her once more just how divine he could be.