Thunder rumbled outside, and it didn’t come from him.
Oh, someone didn’t like that. One of the few things that could rouse Kir and unleash Baldur, leader of the gods, was a threat to either Logan or Jordan.
Logan nodded once, sharply, before turning and heading back down the narrow stairs of Jeanne’s row house. He’d use his magic to make sure the wards were strong enough to keep Jeanne’s home safe.
Kir glanced around the room with a slightly confused expression. “Frigg should have been able to find it easily. Are you certain she didn’t walk out with it? I mean, it’s not like the comic books, where Thor was the only one who could lift it.”
Logan snorted in disgust. “Please. With all the stuff they got wrong, like that stupid horned hat, you expected them to get that one right?”
“Get over the hat, Logan.” Kir’s tone was amused.
“We didn’t frisk her, so it’s possible she managed to sneak it out.” Morgan shuddered at the thought.
“Or not.” Kir shrugged. “It might still be here. Try calling it. Now that your father is gone, it should respond to either you or Magnus.”
“This I’ve got to see,” Skye muttered. She backed up until she was standing next to Kir. “I wish you could summon popcorn.”
Kir grinned. “So do I.”
He cocked an eyebrow at Magnus, who nodded. Magnus would call first, trying to pull Mjolnir to himself.
Morgan watched as his brother took a deep breath. Magnus held out his hand, his brows drawn together in concentration. “Come.”
Nothing happened.
“Try Norwegian.”
Magnus shrugged. “Komme til mig.”
Again, nothing happened. “Try saying its name.”
Magnus rolled his eyes. “Komme til mig, Mjolnir.”
Morgan crossed his arms. “Maybe I should try?”
“Damn it, it’s supposed to belong to both of us.” Magnus threw his hands in the air, that temper of his flaring up. “Mjolnir! Get your ass here now!”
Magnus flew across the room as a tiny flash of silver slammed into him. He hit the wall so hard he cracked the drywall.
“Holy shit.” Morgan fought his own laughter as Kir collapsed against the doorframe, giggling like a child. Skye laughed so hard she fell on her ass. “Hey, Magnus? I think you found Mjolnir.”
“Ow.”
Morgan fought his own laughter. “Good thing your head is so hard.”
“You suck so bad.” Magnus was slumped against the wall, a small silver pendant resting on his forehead. Already, a hammer-shaped bruise was forming where Mjolnir had struck him. He glared at Morgan. “Dickhead. You call it next time.” Morgan lost it as Magnus picked the small silver hammer off his forehead and flicked the tiny piece of silver at him. “Asshole.”
Logan leaned in and stared at them all, grinning widely. “Oh, hey. You found Mjolnir!”
This time Morgan lost it as his brother told Logan exactly where he could stick his hammer.
They’d found Mjolnir.
They’d found the hammer of Thor, and it was…pretty. Delicate.
Skye bit her lip as Magnus grumbled again, leading the way into the condo the brothers shared. “Fuck a duck.”
Morgan sighed and headed straight toward the kitchen. “Now what?”
Magnus collapsed onto the sofa with a sigh. “I don’t know. Skye?”
She shrugged. “You’ve got me.” Whatever she might have known about Mjolnir was still lost to her, deep in the foggy recesses of her life as Skuld.
Morgan came back into the room with three glasses of wine. He handed one to her last, his fingers lingering on the stem, bringing them together. She could feel her cheeks flushing, her skin heating with the need for him to touch her.
What she did know was that she’d wanted Modi long before she’d lost everything, and now she’d have the chance to have him. There was nothing, absolutely nothing standing in their way. There was no honor or duty that demanded she set aside her desire for him, no prophecy that declared he would ever love another. No whisper of her power demanded she pull away from him.
He wanted to give her everything, and she was more than willing to take what he was offering.
“Morgan?”
Skye licked her lips, well aware of what she was also offering her future lover.
“Skye? C’mon guys, I’m right here.”
Morgan ignored his twin, offering Skye a sip of wine from his own glass. She allowed him to bring it to her lips, savoring the deep, rich flavor. A bit of the wine remained on her lips, glossing them. Tempting him.
He licked her lips, tasting her offering. “Say yes.”
“Hell. I’m outta here. Have fun, you crazy kids.”
Morgan was smiling as his brother left the condo, but Skye was mortified. She’d totally forgotten he was even there. “He’s going to hate me.”
“Never.” Morgan took both their glasses and placed them on the table. “He understands more than you know.” She raised a brow, ready to question him on that, but he pressed his finger to her lips. “Say yes, Skye. Be mine.”
She pretended to think about it, toying with one of the buttons of his shirt.
“Please.”
That tortured whisper filled all the empty places inside her. That she’d brought Strength itself to his proverbial knees meant more than all the prophecies, all the years spent under Yggdrasil. “Yes.”
He let his forehead rest against hers and groaned. “Thank fuck.” His hand curled around the back of her head and he took her mouth, plundering her like the Viking god he had always been.
She didn’t know which one of them moaned, and she didn’t care. All she knew was she had to get this man naked now. She’d longed to see him naked, visited that particular fantasy almost every night for years before she’d lost herself, and now she was going to see everything she’d always dreamed of.
She pulled free of his mouth. “Bedroom?”
“Too far.” He tugged her shirt off over her head. “Table good?”
She giggled. She’d reduced him below Viking, her lover grunting like a caveman as his shirt flew across the room.
“Your turn.” He inched her back until her ass hit the edge of the kitchen table, tugging her pants down. He grunted again, rolling his eyes when she began laughing in earnest. “A little help here? Kick off your shoes, maybe?”
She did, leaning back against the table with a happy sigh. She loved playing with lovers, knowing it was safe to laugh even in the midst of something so important. Morgan shook his head as he eased her pants off, smiling until he realized that all she wore was the lacy pink bra and panty set. “Oh, fuck me stupid. This is what you wear under your clothes?” He visibly swallowed as she shoved the cups of the bra down, exposing her breasts to his gaze. “I’m doomed.”
She ran her hands down her chest, pinching her own nipples. “Uh-huh.”
He growled, watching as she ran her hands over her stomach. “Never mind. You’re doomed. I’m never letting you go again.”
She looked up at him from under her lashes. “Good. Because if you do I’m going to hunt you down and do some really horrible, nasty things to you.”
He unclasped her bra, some of the driving urgency gone. “Like what?”
There was one thing boys, no matter what their age, feared more than anything else. “Sic Mama Jeanne on you.”
He glared at her, but humor lurked in the expression, ready to burst at any moment. “You play dirty.”
She toyed with the lacy top of her panties. “Uh-huh.”