Free Morgan's Fate by Dana Marie Bell

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