Still, that shrieking voice was also disturbingly familiar. Skye shook her head, trying to remember where she’d heard that voice before.
The woman who did look old enough snorted. “Because he was my husband, you old witch. That gives me every right.”
Skye shook her head. These people were crazy, and she needed to get out of here before she caught whatever it was that had driven them nuts. Staring around the room as people literally took sides, she was afraid it might be catching. Not even Val could make this comfortable for her, and he’d done his best to make her feel like she was at home no matter where the others stashed her. He was turning into the big brother she’d always wanted but never had.
Val had laughed, delighted, when she’d told him she secretly called him the Terminator. How could you not like the guy? He was fiercely devoted to his family to the point of being overprotective, and adored his nieces and nephews with a love usually reserved for one’s own children. He’d told her he’d sacrificed himself to a madman to keep them safe, and she believed him. She’d sensed the truth ringing in his words.
“Enough.” The crowd parted as several people made their way forward. Logan, his bad-boy looks tempered by his dark suit, had his arm around a brunette with a thin, clever face and dark-rimmed glasses. Jordan Tate-Saeter was married to both Kir and Logan, a relationship that made Skye blush every time she thought about it. She was obviously pregnant, about five months along, the bump definitely visible as the twins she carried grew inside her.
Next to Jordan and Logan stood Kir, his pale good looks eclipsing almost everyone in the room, including the women. He was one of the most beautiful men she’d ever seen, and utterly devoted to his lovers. The pendant at his neck caught the light just right, gleaming in the otherwise dim room. “Jeanne is right, whether you choose to believe it or not.”
Flanking Kir were the two men she’d seen at the Tate-Saeters’, two men with bright red hair that matched the dead man’s and dazzling blue eyes darker than her own, sapphire to her sky. They were so close in looks it was obvious they were twins, with matching chiseled jaws and wide shoulders. They too wore dark suits, and their arms were crossed over their chests. But where one twin stared at the screeching harpy and glowered, the other stared at Skye with a hungry expression that made her want to squirm in her seat, and not in a bad way.
Superimposed over the vision of the men in suits were the two men dressed as, of all things, fierce Viking warriors. But it was still the one twin who snared her gaze.
Why did she remember him? Worse, why did she remember wanting him?
There was something about Morgan Grimm that called to her, more so than his twin, Magnus, despite how similar they appeared. It was as if she’d craved him forever. She wanted to get up out of her chair and cross over to him, hold his hand and stand next to him. Just to support him through this tough time, of course.
She sighed. That was a lie. She was supposed to be with him. The certainty that he would eventually belong to her rang through her, settling into her bones and becoming simply a part of her like her hair color or her unholy love affair with nachos.
Yup. The crazy was definitely catching. Time to get the hell out of Dodge. The last thing she needed was to start something with one of the people who surrounded Kiran Tate-Saeter.
No matter how right Morgan Grimm felt to her senses.
The family relationships between these people were confusing as hell. Jordan was married in spirit to both Kiran Tate and Logan Saeter, but legally only to Logan. The three had taken each other’s last names, so they were the Tate-Saeters. Kiran was the uncle of Morgan, Magnus, Jamie and Jeff, making Jordan the aunt of her half brother and sister and her two stepbrothers. Jeff was the partner of Fenris, who was not the cousin of Logan Saeter no matter what they’d originally told her. That made Logan both Jeff’s uncle through marriage, and his father-in-law. Making Aunt Jordan her nephew/brother’s mother-in-law.
The song “I’m My Own Grandpa” started playing in her head. Thank you, Ray Stevens, for providing the perfect musical accompaniment to my crazy thoughts.
At least Jamie hadn’t married someone related to her siblings. That would have made it even more complex. Trying to keep everything and everyone straight was giving Skye a severe headache.
She glanced away, back toward Jeanne and the lady who claimed to be Fred Grimm’s mother, but she could feel his gaze boring into her, demanding she turn her attention back to him.
She ignored him as best she could, but she could feel the heat climbing her cheeks. His regard was intense.
“He should never have married you. You were beneath him.”
Jeanne’s brows rose as Frederica Grimm sneered, but Skye could tell she’d had enough. Jeanne’s hands were clenched, the knuckles white. Mrs. Grimm had been screaming at Jeanne nonstop since she’d arrived twenty minutes ago, and she was about to get her ass beat if Skye was any judge. “And above him, and bent over in front of him, and—” The sound of gagging cut her off. “Oh please, Jeff. How do you think you got here?”
“Mom!”
Skye almost laughed at the little-boy whine in Jeffrey Grimm’s voice. The ookie face he made was absolutely adorable, and from the look on his boyfriend’s face she wasn’t the only one who thought so.
“You allowed the abomination to come to my son’s funeral.” Steam was practically pouring out of the crazy lady’s ears as she glared at Fenris Saeter.
Jeanne snarled at Mrs. Grimm. “He’s my son-in-law, and can go wherever the hell I do.”
Mrs. Grimm laughed. “Then he can follow you there.” She raised her hand, prepared to strike Jeanne Grimm down. Skye stood, feeling that somehow, some way, that blow would be lethal if it landed. She had to protect Jeanne Grimm from the crazy lady before— Lightning flashed, so sudden and so brilliant Skye had to hide her eyes. Thunder crashed, shaking the room. “Enough!” Kir strode forward, dark glasses perched on his nose. Skye frowned, confused. Those hadn’t been there before. His hand was clasped tightly around his pendant, yet somehow she could still see the glow of it through his fingers. “Enough, Frigg.”
Frigg. Skye frowned at Kir, wondering why that name slithered through her, a cold touch that left her shivering. A vision of Frederica Grimm with long blonde hair, dressed in a flowing red gown and wearing a gold and silver torque superimposed itself over the actual woman. Frigg nodded to her once, smirking, before turning to Kir.
What the hell was that all about? The last thing she wanted was the attention of more crazy.
“It will never be enough. Not while my beloved son Baldur consorts with monsters.”
Baldur? That name… Why did that name make her want to bow her head in respect? None of this made sense, damn it!
The hairs on Skye’s arms stood straight up as Kir took another step toward Frigg. “Logan is no monster. You are.”
“No, Blondie. Not here, not now.” Logan took hold of Kir’s arm.
“Sit, Kir. Stay.” Jordan’s voice was shaking, but she too took hold of Kir, reaching for his other arm and clasping it tightly.
For just a second it seemed that Kir would attack the woman he’d called Frigg, but after a moment his head bowed. He stepped back into the embrace of his lovers and everyone except Frigg seemed to relax. The hairs that had been standing up on Skye’s arms settled back down.
Whatever Kir had been planning to do had been averted. For now, anyway.
“Here.”
Skye looked up to find Morgan Grimm holding out his hand to her.