Morgan's Fate

By: Dana Marie Bell
True Destiny 4


His Fate is finally in front of him…and he’s never letting go.

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.

To Mom, who is always proud of me, even when she thinks I’m being an idiot. You keep asking me for that mansion and yacht. I’ll keep laughing my ass off.

To Dad, who still wants to know when I’ll write a book he’s allowed to read. I love my parents. They make me laugh so hard.

And to Dusty, who is fully aware he’s about to become a Dragon Age widower once more. Here’s hoping they’ll give me another hot, hunky elf love interest! Oh, and some female LI for Dusty, just to be fair. May she be small breasted and dumb as a box of rocks. Not that I’d be jealous or anything…


Modi grimaced as Hrungnir laughed raucously, the sound crass in the golden halls of Valhalla. The Jotun was uncouth, loud and rude, and had insulted god and goddess alike more than once with his boasts and his constant demands for ale and wine.

Valhalla, the highest seat in Asgard, should not house such as he.

It had all begun with a wager, a silly one that Odin had, for some unknown reason, chosen to take up. Whether it had been Loki egging him on, or Thor’s smug belief that none could best a god, Modi did not know, nor did he care to. While Sleipnir and Gullfaxi raced to see who was the swiftest, Hrungnir chose to make a pest of himself at his grandfather’s table.

How could anyone think a mere horse could defeat Sleipnir? He was so swift it was believed by some that he had eight legs instead of the normal four. Indeed, some mortal artists had begun to depict him that way, much to Odin’s amusement. He did nothing to disabuse them of the notion, going so far as to cast illusions when he stopped to talk to mortals in Midgard, making it appear that Sleipnir did, in fact, have eight legs.

It always surprised him that Sleipnir was so different from his half brothers and sister. Born of Loki and a mortal horse, Sleipnir was not the shape shifter his siblings were and exhibited none of the signs that he held human intelligence. He was certainly smarter than your average horse, but that was it. Loki grieved for that more than he wanted known, but at least Sleipnir was well treated as the favored mount of the king of the gods.

The giant’s raucous laughter rang out once more and Modi hid a cringe. While not all Jotun were like this one, there were several who would think nothing of acting in exactly the same way.

He exchanged an annoyed look with his twin, Magni, who looked equally disgusted by the giant’s antics. What right did he have to come here and mock the gods? ’Twas bad enough he’d sworn his horse Gullfaxi could defeat Sleipnir, son of Loki. But to then enter Valhalla and demand sustenance, to grope the younger goddesses as if they were his personal playthings? It was not to be tolerated. By the gods, even Loki was becoming annoyed, and it took much to move the Trickster to action for more than amusement or personal gain. If someone didn’t do something soon, the Trickster would act, and not even Odin would be able to stop him.

Who knew what mayhem would ensue, should Loki become involved?

“More ale, wench!” The giant laughed once more as he slapped a Norn on the ass. “’Tis pleasing to be surrounded by so many lovelies, Odin. You are a lucky man indeed.”

The Norn he’d slapped scowled at him, her blonde hair pulled back from her face, her strong jaw clenched. When Modi realized which Norn Hrungnir had insulted, he nearly stepped in, despite the man’s guest status.

No one should touch Skuld without her permission.

To Helheim with that. No one should touch her without his permission.

Her gaze darted toward him and she blushed, but instead of making her way toward him she joined her sisters away from Hrungnir. Modi relaxed as the woman he’d been yearning for put herself out of harm’s way.

He wanted her with a fire that refused to be quenched by any other female he bedded. He just couldn’t stop watching her. Oh, the pale blonde hair that brushed her shoulders was certainly pretty enough. But he’d seen shinier, more golden locks. There were plenty of goddesses with fairer, rosier skin than hers. And her blue eyes were the color of the summer sky on a cloudless day, pure and pale, but Morgan had stared into eyes far purer and more brilliant a blue. Her nose was broader than the delicate one most of the goddesses sported, and her jaw was far squarer, giving her face an appearance of strength rather than delicate beauty.

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