As my gaze met Apollo’s, I struggled to find a well of anger to tamp down my libido and was surprised not to have to look too hard, though I must have known on some level that this was what would happen if Apollo rode to my rescue. Some part of me must have decided deep down that I could die another day but not while the family was counting on me to track Uncle Christos and not while there were new murders, massacres really, begging to be solved. I didn’t have the luxury of the moral high ground. No, as much as I wanted to blast Apollo with both barrels of my wrath, I was the one to blame here. I had to take responsibility.
Still, my “thank you” tasted like ashes on my tongue.
“Stop. Your effusion is just embarrassing,” Apollo said, brushing aside a sweat-soaked lock of hair obscuring my vision. The jolt it sent straight to my heart made me cranky.
I touched the back of my hand to my mouth and it came away wet. “Drool, eh? Sex-y.”
“Very funny.”
“I feel funny.” I couldn’t hold his gaze. It was just too intimate. His eyes were aqua and glowed like the sun reflecting off the Mediterranean. They made me think of skinny dipping and the power of the surf, surging. I cut that thought to the quick. “Seriously, though, thanks for coming,” I said reluctantly. “I wasn’t sure you would.”
“What, and miss the chance to make you beholden to me?”
“Think again, buddy. In my book, this just makes us even.”
Apollo tapped a finger on his lip, pretending to consider, but not putting much effort into making it look sincere. “Really? By my count, that makes twice I’ve saved your life and you’ve—oh wait, you have yet to reciprocate.”
“Damn you and your scorekeeping. Tell you what, you let me know when you’re going to throw yourself in front of a train, and I’ll be there to stop you. No, really.” Two could play at sincerity.
Apollo’s eyes rolled upward as if he could spot the heights of Olympus right through my ceiling. “It doesn’t work like that.”
I sighed. “Fine.” I looked down to be sure I was decently clothed, unlike the last time I’d woken in a bed with Apollo, and started to rise. Apollo looked regretful, but didn’t try to keep me there.
I was pleased that all my parts seemed to be in working order. It was the first day in what seemed like forever without the shakes. I didn’t have to pretend I was fine. I wanted to give a rebel yell, but that would be undignified. And heavens, having built up my skid row junkie image, I didn’t want to blow it all in one fell swoop. “I need to wash the stink off, and I need food, not necessarily in that order. The least I can do is offer you something.”
I wandered into the kitchen and started opening and closing cupboards, as if elves might have stocked them while I was out. “Um, how about omelets? As long as you don’t like anything in them. More like scrambled eggs, really. Or, I make a mean cinnamon toast.”
He followed me in and lounged against my cabinets. He looked good standing there, and my brain tried to remind me that bedrooms weren’t the only places for fun and games, but those thoughts were by now used to being ignored.
“I’m not hungry, thank you,” Apollo announced as he watched me play at domestication. “I left a…supply…for you in your refrigerator. I suppose you’ll have to let me know when you need more.”
“So, what’s the catch here? What do I owe you?” Rather than look at him, I went about getting the fixings for scrambled eggs and toast. Normally I’d opt for cereal or a Power Bar rather than actual home cooking, but I felt the need for something hot and filling. Besides, I was bursting with excess energy I needed to channel.
“Dump your detective.”
Armed with a tub of butter and a spatula, I whirled on him. “Just because you saved my life doesn’t mean you get to dictate how I live it.”
“Are you yet on a first name basis?”
“Yes.” Most of the time. I dropped everything on the counter and attacked the butter with a vengeance, tossing a glop into my pan and barely waiting for it to heat before adding the eggs. “Anyway, it’s none of your business.”
“He’s not for you. I have seen—”
“What do you know about the dead bodies on top of Mount Lee?” I asked suddenly. I didn’t want to know my future…or Nick’s. I’d read enough of the myths to learn that knowing the future often led people to play right into their doom. The whole self-fulfilling prophecy bit. The only thing to do with that power was mark it “return to sender”.
“The ones in the news?”
“I sure hope there aren’t any others.” I chopped the eggs to within an inch of their lives before sliding them onto a plate and carrying my feast to the table. Apollo sat down across from me. It was such a strange homey scene with the morning light streaming through the windows. All we needed were steaming mugs of coffee and newspapers to help us ignore each other.
“They are related to the earlier trouble?” Apollo asked.
I froze, first bite nearly to my lips. “Trouble? No euphemisms before coffee. Anyway, I think they are. There’s the location for one. Plus, the remains of all the bodies would barely fill a chum bucket, so I’m doubtful it was your average man off the street who whacked ’em. Oh, and the Feds asked me some pretty oddball questions. Wanted to know about biological warfare.”
Apollo’s face went all over strange before tightening into a mask.
I swallowed the bite in my mouth. “What? Does that mean something to you?”
“Maybe. Can you tell me any more about the attack?”
“Not…really.” Not except for that strange dream with the gnashing teeth and slashing claws, the details of which were already slipping away from me. And anyway, it was just a dream. A vivid, terrifying, heart-pounding dream, but still. Unless…
“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” he wheedled.
I eyed him. “I’ve seen yours.”
Morgan’s Fate
Dana Marie Bell
His Fate is finally in front of him…and he’s never letting go.
True Destiny, Book 4
Morgan and Magnus Grimm return from their search for Skuld, Norn of the Future, only to find that she’s been living under their noses this whole time. Now that Morgan finally has the woman of his dreams within reach, nothing—not amnesia, not Odin, not even his father’s death—will prevent him from claiming the Fate he’s wanted for centuries.
Skylar Kincade is lost among these crazy people who swear that they’re the old Norse gods. But…there’s something that strikes a chord deep within her. Something from which the hot, redheaded Morgan wants to protect her.
But when the memories burst free, there’s no softening the devastating blow. For overstepping her bounds and changing their fates to save their lives, her powers were stripped away, leaving her as just another Norn.
And it seems more punishment is coming down: one of Logan’s children is missing. Skye is determined to do her part to make it right—by journeying all the way to Valhalla to meet a fate from which Morgan may not be able to save her.
Warning: This novel contains explicit nookie on a kitchen table, graphic language in one or more dialects, and a Fate worth living for.
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
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Morgan’s Fate
Copyright © 2013 by Dana Marie Bell ISBN: 978-1-61921-615-0
Edited by Tera Kleinfelter Cover by Angela Waters
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever witho
ut written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: August 2013
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Table of Contents
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Epilogue
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