Morgan's Fate

Chapter Thirteen

She’d forgotten exactly how large Valhalla was. The principle seat of the former king of the gods, it was imposing and intimidating. Valhalla stood before them, the enormous hall guarded by the golden tree Glasir. The hall’s roof, thatched with the golden shields of fallen heroes, glittered under Asgard’s sun. Mingling on the grass were the spirits of those the Valkyries had called home, heroes and kings who’d fallen in battle and been taken under Odin’s banner. The spirits stared at them curiously, but upon seeing Gungnir clasped in Kir’s hand drifted away.

The doors of the ancient gate Valgrind guarded the entrance. They would have to pass through Valgrind in order to reach Valhalla. If they’d been going for the front door they would have had to deal with the wolf Grimm had hung in front of its west doors. It struggled against its bonds, but instead of whimpering and crying it howled and snarled, snapping at any who were foolish enough to approach it. Who that wolf was, she did not know, but it was vicious.

She glanced up, not surprised to see an eagle hovering above the hall. That eagle had been there before Valhalla was even built. She sometimes thought it had been there long before, when Yggdrassil was nothing more than a sapling and the only worlds were Muspelheim and Nifleheim.

“We need to make our way to the stables. That’s where Sleipnir will be.” Val loosened his sword, making sure he could draw it easily. It was a familiar gesture, one she’d seen countless warriors perform over centuries of watching them.

“I can sniff him out, I think. I still remember his scent. If he’s not in the stables, we’ll need that to find him.” Logan shifted into a bloodhound and began scenting the air. He quivered once, then looked up at Kir and woofed softly.

Kir waved his hand, and Valgrind opened for them. “Lead the way.”

Morgan’s eyes were so wide she was surprised they didn’t roll out of his head. “Whoa.”

She grinned. “The gates are responding to Gungnir, much like the warriors did.”

Logan took off, his nose to the ground as he led them toward Valhalla and, hopefully, Sleipnir. Before too long he shifted back to human. “I smell blood.”

They flew across the grass, right under the golden tree, racing for the stables and Sleipnir.

What they saw when they arrived at the stables drew a shocked gasp from Skye and a low, tortured moan from Logan.

Grimm was slowly and methodically whipping Sleipnir into a bloody mess. Sleipnir’s pale hair and skin were soaked with blood, his dark eyes glazed with pain. Sleipnir’s eyes widened when he saw them, hope banishing the despair that had covered his face. “Pappa.”

Logan roared and knocked Grimm to the ground. The whip flew out of his hand, bright red drops arching away to stain the straw beneath them.

Grimm rubbed his jaw and glared up at Logan. “Somehow I knew you’d survive.”

Logan grinned viciously. “Rina didn’t.”

For one split second Skye saw such grief and rage on Grimm’s face that she thought he would go after Logan on the spot. When instead he dove at her, she was so shocked she didn’t get out of the way in time.

Grimm punched her so hard she fell into Sleipnir, who was swinging from the rafters by his wrists. Sleipnir cried out as she was knocked into him.

Magnus lost his famous temper. He swung at Grimm with the Mjolnir pendant.

A pendant that was suddenly a hammer, striking Grimm with such force that he broke through the stable walls, landing on the grass some twenty feet away.

“Cool.” Val pulled his blade and sauntered through the Grimm-shaped hole.

“Holy shit.” Skye, dazed that somehow Magnus had managed to change Mjolnir, pulled herself to her feet. She got out of Logan’s way as he freed his son from the bonds, gently holding him in his arms despite his whimpers.

Magnus stared at Sleipnir, his jaw clenched, rage burning in his eyes. A flash of lightning struck the ground out of a cloudless sky, startling them all. “Grimm will pay for this.”

Sleipnir held out his shaking hand to Magnus, who took it gently. “Be careful.”

Magnus nodded once before sprinting through the hole Grimm had made.

Skye had to see what was happening. Sleipnir was safe with Logan, Kir hovering protectively over them. Morgan was stepping through the hole, taking the path his brother had to Grimm.

She stepped into the shadow of the building—

And screamed as an arm came around her. A dagger pressed against her throat. “Your sisters send their regards.”

The knife slashed across her throat, the pain so sharp and bright she would have cried out if she could.

The twin sons of Thor scrambled toward her, Mjolnir flying through the air, but none of it could help Skye now. She was dead, doomed. Killing Grimm would bring them vengeance, but nothing more.

“Logan!” Morgan screamed the Jotun’s name so loudly the walls of Valhalla shook.

Skye’s vision began to fade. Crap. Crappity crap crap. She hadn’t told Morgan yet she loved him, and now she was drowning to death in her own blood.

“Shh. It’s okay, Skye. Logan’s coming.” Something dripped onto her face, blood or tears, she couldn’t tell. All she knew was the deep, masculine voice was not the one she wanted most to hear. As much as she cared for the Terminator, it was Morgan’s voice she longed for. “We’re going to save you.”

She tried to speak but couldn’t. She could hear the scissors snapping, threatening to end her once and for all.

“Shit. It’s not working, Kir.”

She struggled for breath, but it was too late. The darkness had closed in around her. The scissors were snipping her thread. She could feel them tearing at the cotton, shredding it, her sisters’ glee as they destroyed the one they felt had betrayed them.

She was done.

“Not yet, little sister.”

“What the fuck?” Kir’s tone had taken on that deep, godly timber. Baldur had roused.

“Logan, I thought you said it wasn’t working.” Val’s voice was rough with tears.

“It wasn’t.” Logan sounded baffled.

She could hear her friends arguing around her, but none of them mattered. Only the voice in her mind did. “Who are you?”

“I am you. I am Skuld, and it is not yet your time to go.” The voice was young, sweet and innocent, yet tinged with the knowledge of things to come. Skye had once spoken in that voice, used it to declare the fates of the gods themselves.

Skye took a shuddering, deep breath, rolling over to her side to vomit up blood. She could feel the threads of her life weaving back together, firming until they shone with a golden light reserved only for the gods. “How can you be me?”

“I am who you were, and who I will be.”

“That’s perfectly clear.” Had Skye been as annoying as Skuld?

The voice giggled. “I am newly born, yet old as time. I make my way to our sisters’ side, there to sit beneath Yggdrasil and speak of fates.”

The voice was fading, becoming distant as Skye regained her senses. “Do you know how I changed the prophecy?”

The voice sighed. “You will understand once more in the fullness of time. For now, enjoy your life with your love. You’ve both earned it.”

The voice faded away, leaving Skye to open bleary eyes. “Ow.”

Logan’s relieved smile was the first thing she saw. “Welcome back.”

“We didn’t think giving you Logan’s blood had worked.” Kir was leaning on Gungnir, his expression just as relieved as Logan’s. Sleipnir sat slumped at his feet, still bleeding profusely, but even as she watched his wounds were closing. His gaze was glued to something behind Logan, his full bottom lip between his teeth. “You should have his healing abilities now.”

“That’s not quite what happened.” Skye sat up, coughing up more blood in the process. “Ugh. Remind me to kill Grimm. I know just the pair of scissors to use.”

Sleipnir smiled shyly at her before turning his anxious gaze once more on the fight.

Fight? How had she missed the fight going on not ten feet away?

Morgan and Magnus were double-teaming Grimm, beating the holy hell out of him with Mjolnir. “They know they can’t kill him, right?”

Logan shrugged. “Sometimes you have to beat something until you’re satisfied.”

Kir tilted his head as Magnus got in a spectacular uppercut, the head of the hammer hitting Grimm so hard she could hear his jaw shatter. “I’d say they aren’t satisfied yet.”

Both brothers looked like the fierce Viking warriors they were. Their hair burned bright in the sunlight, the red strands almost glowing in the holy light of Asgard. Mjolnir passed between them as easily as breath, the hammer never failing to find its target before landing in an outstretched hand. No matter how many times Grimm reached for the weapon it eluded him, going to its masters like a well-trained hound.

She winced in sympathy as Grimm fell to the grass, so battered there wasn’t an inch of his face that wasn’t trashed. His nose looked broken, and both eyes were swollen shut. Even his mouth looked twice its normal size. His blond hair was just as matted with blood as Sleipnir’s.

Yet, before their eyes, he began to heal with a rapidity that made Logan swear. “Time to go, Blondie.”

“Not yet.” Magnus lifted Mjolnir, ready to land yet another blow. “I’m not done.”

Sleipnir tried to stand, crying out in pain and collapsing back on the ground.

Within seconds Magnus had the slim man in his arms, Mjolnir passed to his brother. “Shh. I have you.”

Skye blinked. The vicious warrior spoke with such pure gentleness she never would have believed he’d just been ready to pulp someone’s head if she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes.

She gasped as she found herself in a similar situation. Morgan lifted her in his arms and began striding toward the gates of Valhalla. “Let’s go before the asshole gets up.”

“Agreed.” Val threw a dagger at Grimm, smiling as it landed in the middle of his father’s chest. “That should hold him for a bit.”

Morgan’s hold on her tightened as his eyes scanned her for injuries. “I hate that fucker.”

“Amen, brother.” Magnus sighed as Sleipnir, apparently feeling right at home in the warrior god’s arms, snuggled close. “Amen.”

Skye woke slowly, all the aches and pains of the battle with Odin making themselves known. She glanced over at Morgan, smiling as she took in his nude form.

They’d made love before falling asleep, a slow, easy loving that didn’t hurt either of their bruises. He’d fallen asleep on top of the comforter, curling around her and snuggling, her head tucked under his chin. Morgan was someone who needed touch like some needed air. But in his sleep he’d rolled over onto his back, his legs splayed wide, his arms thrown out to either side of him.

Yet, even now, one of his hands rested on her hip, and he was rock hard. That thick, long prick jerked under her gaze. From the look on his face he was having one hell of a dream.

She’d have to see what she could do to make that dream come true.

She slid out of bed as quietly as possible and went to the bathroom, careful to make sure the door was closed. She didn’t want to wake him, but her mouth tasted like something furry had crawled in and died three days ago.

When she was done she tiptoed across the carpet, sliding back into bed as quietly as she could. It was time to show him how much his love and protection meant to her. Some of those bruises he bore because of her, and she was going to kiss each and every one of them.

She started by slowly easing her way down to the foot of the bed. Long, strong legs tapered to large feet. Even those were bruised, so she delicately kissed the tops before moving up to his calves. His brow furrowed, but he remained still, his expression slowly smoothing back into sleep.

Each and every mark Grimm had put on his body she kissed, moving up to his thighs and a particularly nasty one that would make moving difficult for him. He didn’t appear to have Logan’s miraculous healing ability. Neither twin did. But whereas Magnus was busy taking care of Sleipnir, she was here to make sure that Morgan was the one who was pampered.

The way Sleipnir had curled up against Magnus, the protective way Magnus was reacting toward the pale man, made her think that maybe Sleipnir wanted to pamper Magnus.

When she stroked the nasty bruise he hissed, swatting at her. She backed off, waiting until he settled back down before pressing her lips to a bruise just below and to the right of his belly button.

A drop of pre-come glistened at the head of his cock, and she desperately wanted to taste it. But not yet. He deserved to have her acknowledge each wound, love on them as much as she could.

Her hero. Her warrior.

Hers.

“Good morning,” he muttered breathlessly.

She glanced up at him through her lashes, her mouth close to his weeping cock, and knew what he thought had been going on. “Good morning.”

He grinned, a sleepy one that made him look boyish and so endearing her heart stuttered in its beat. “See anything you like?”

She rolled her eyes. “I was kissing your bruises, not your ego.”

Oh, look at that pout. “You don’t like my ego?” He stared down at his dick with sad eyes. “He’s, like, my bestest friend ever.”

She hid her face in his thigh with a groan, trying not to laugh.

Morgan patted her on the head. “You’re my second bestest friend.”

Skye patted his cock. “Should I leave you two alone? You haven’t shaken hands and said hello yet.”

He started to laugh, then groaned. “Please don’t make me laugh.”

She crawled up the bed until they were side by side, her hand resting lightly on his chest. “Are you hurt worse than you’re telling me?”

“No, elskede. I’m bruised, not broken.” He pulled her into his arms, not letting her go until her head rested on his chest. “I’ll be fine.”

She decided to voice her concerns. Sleipnir had latched onto Magnus, not his father, and had chosen to go home with Morgan’s twin. “Will Magnus be all right?”

Morgan was silent for far longer than Skye had thought he would be. She glanced up, thinking he might have fallen asleep, only to find his gaze on her. He began toying absently with her hair. “I think Kir might have been right.”

“That Magnus will have two people in his life?”

Morgan nodded. “And I think I know who the second one will be.” When she tried to sit up his hold on her tightened. “Don’t worry, Skye.” His grin was full of warmth and mischief. “I know who it is he’s been waiting for, and if she can get her head out of her ass she’ll be perfect for him.”

“As long as she doesn’t hurt Sleipnir.”

Morgan nodded. “Yeah.” He snuggled her closer, and Skye kissed his chest as he sighed wearily. “Yeah.”