Echoes of Love

  Table of Contents

  Legal Page

  Title Page

  Book Description

  Dedication

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  New Excerpt

  About the Author

  Publisher Page

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  Echoes of Love

  ISBN # 978-1-78686-218-1

  ©Copyright Tanith Davenport 2017

  Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright June 2017

  Edited by Ann Leveille

  Totally Bound Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorized or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

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  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  #xa0;

  Published in 2017 by Totally Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, UK

  Totally Bound Publishing is a subsidiary of Totally Entwined Group Limited.

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  Warning:

  This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Totally Simmering and a Sexometer of 2.

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  #xa0;

  ECHOES OF LOVE

  #xa0;

  Tanith Davenport

  #xa0;

  Kala wants to catch a ghost. The ghost wants to catch her. What does Tor want?

  Paranormal writer Kala Westenra, staying with her best friend Vika in Norway, is hunting for a new subject for an article and finds it when she hears footsteps in the hall twenty minutes before Vika’s hot brother Tor Viitanen arrives home. This, Vika tells her, is the vardøger—a Norwegian ghost, a future echo which always precedes a person’s arrival.

  Kala plans to stake out the hallway to catch the vardøger in the act and is shocked when on its arrival it kisses her. Her feelings for Tor have been hidden ever since she first met him two years ago. Could it be that the vardøger is acting on Tor’s secret desire for her?

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  As Kala and Tor work together to understand what is happening with the spirit, their longing for each other begins to overtake them—and the vardøger has more to show them than they expected…

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  Dedication

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  For Nici and Oscar

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  Trademarks Acknowledgement

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  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Dracula : Bram Stoker

  Ouija board: Konami Corporation

  Kindle: Amazon Technologies, Inc.

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  Prologue

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  Two years earlier

  It was the end of the academic year and Kala Westenra was just a little bit drunk.

  “Here it is.” Her best friend’s voice came from the living room doorway. A bottle of white wine appeared around the doorframe, followed by Vika Viitanen, flushed in a way that suggested a lot of wine had been consumed already. “I knew we had a Pinot Grigio somewhere.”

  “You’re a star.”

  Kala held out her glass as Vika approached, unscrewing the cap. It was a day of celebration and also of commiseration. Their final results had just come out and both had passed—Kala in journalism, Vika in business management—but in a few days Vika was returning home to Norway while Kala would still be in England, beginning what had the potential to be a long job hunt.

  As Vika poured, there was a scuffling noise at the front door. Kala automatically glanced that way, but the living room door was blocking her line of sight. She glanced up at Vika, eyebrows raised.

  “I thought your housemates had already left.”

  “They have. That’s my brother, Tor. He’s over to stay for a few days and we’re traveling back together.” Vika settled herself next to Kala on the sofa as the lock on the door clicked. “You’ll like him. He’s a good laugh.”

  The front door slammed shut and Tor appeared in the living room.

  Vika picked up another wineglass from beside the couch and made introductions as Kala tried to unobtrusively look him up and down from behind her dark fringe.

  Cute.

  The first thing she noticed was his walk, a loping gait that made her think of a panther. He was tall but wore his height casually, slope-shouldered and loose. His arms were strong, his body athletic. His hair was a warm brown, untidy and unstyled. His face was soft, curved rather than chiseled, with a snub nose and rounded jawline. And his blue eyes were gazing straight at her with an expression that told her he was well aware of her scrutiny.

  “Kala Westenra?” he commented, raising one eyebrow. “Any relation to Lucy?”

  Vika screwed up her face in confusion. “Lucy who?”

  “Lucy Westenra. From Dracula. ” Kala held Tor’s challenging gaze. “And no. But I’ve always loved Whitby.”

  “Lucy Westenra.” Vika shook her head. “You must hear that all the time.”

  “No, it’s usually Hayley I get asked about.” Kala threw Tor a grin. “At least it shows he can read.”

  Tor took the glass Vika had poured for him and, there being no other chairs in the room, sat on the floor next to the sofa.

  “Has Vika invited you to visit her yet? She told me she was going to.”

  “Not so far, but I’d love to see Norway. Vika’s shown me photos. It looks gorgeous.”

  “Oh, it is.” Tor threw a smirk at Vika. “Vika mentioned she wanted to introduce you to all the local men. Apparently, English girls just love a Nordic man.”

  Oh, does she indeed? Kala glanced at her friend, who was scarlet-faced and glaring at her brother.

  “Shut up, Tor. I just said Kala needed a new boyfriend.”

  “Oh, do I? I didn’t realize you were my dating service.”

  If anything, Vika blushed even deeper.

  “Yeah, well, it’d be nice if you met someone in Norway, that’s all.”

  “I’ll bear that in mind.”

  Two glasses of wine later, Kala was still considering Vika’s comment.

  It’d be nice if you met someone in Norway.

  That was quite sweet. The thought of settling down in Norway wasn’t unwelcome. But it was a little unlikely, since she had no idea when she’d even be able to get over and it wouldn’t be for long enough to get into a serious relationship with anyone there.

  “So, what are you planning to do with yourself now, Kala?” Tor asked, holding his glass out to Vika for a refill.

  “Freelance journalism, hopefully. I’d…” Kala paused, wondering if she should admit this, then decided to hell with it. “I’d actually quite like to go into paranormal journalism.”

  “Paranormal journalism? Is that a thing?”

  “Oh, yeah. There are loads of magazines ove
r here that cover paranormal cases. And there’s plenty on the Internet, as well. It’s just about finding the right things to write about.”

  “Like Dracula.”

  “Yes, Tor. Like Dracula.” Kala threw him a sidelong glance. “Or, you know, stuff that isn’t connected to my name.”

  “Ignore him,” Vika commented, her voice already starting to slur. “He thinks that if a joke’s funny the first time it’s even funnier ten times later.”

  Tor reached over the arm of the sofa, pulled up a cushion and threw it at her. Vika threw it back, knocking over her wineglass at the same time.

  “Here, let me get you a refill.” Kala reached for the bottle, but it was empty. Vika stood and made for the door, picking up her jacket from the hook on the back on her way past.

  “I’ll run out and get another one. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  Kala launched the cushion after her, hitting the door instead.

  “I can see why you and my sister get on so well.” Tor raised an eyebrow. “You’re both drunks.”

  “Oh, shut up. I’m still technically a student. I can drink if I like.”

  “Soon to be a writer and they drink a lot, too, I’ve heard.”

  Kala laughed. “I don’t know about journalists, though. Although I’d quite like to be a writer, too—novels or something. I don’t know what kind yet.”

  “I’ll keep my eyes open for your hot new release.”

  Ooh.

  Kala held his gaze, her insides stirring strangely. Maybe it was the alcohol, but there was something in the words hot release that made a rush of heat flow through her body, her skin tingling.

  After a long moment, Tor spoke again. “So, Vika thinks you need a man.”

  “I don’t need a man. I may want a man.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Something flickered across Tor’s face, his eyes glowing. He shifted onto his knees, leaning over the arm of the sofa, his face close to hers. “What sort of man do you want?”

  “Oh, you know. We hotshot journalists don’t like to be tied down.” Kala gave him a taunting look, leaning closer to him so that their faces were almost touching. “Tall, dark, commitment-phobic. That’ll do me.”

  “I can help you there.”

  A sudden rush of movement and Tor’s mouth was on hers.

  This is a bad idea. He’s Vika’s brother.

  But somehow she no longer cared and Tor was right here and he was moving, moving over the arm of the sofa as they were still kissing, then his body was pressing down onto hers and they were still —

  To hell with it, she thought and arched up against him, tangling her fingers in his hair.

  She felt his hard cock through his jeans as it brushed against her leg, sending a dart of wet heat straight to her cunt. His hands ran down, caressing her neck, her shoulders, cupping her breasts and rolling his thumbs over her nipples through her bra.

  Oh, God—

  Then the sound of the lock clicking.

  Immediately, Tor rolled off her and onto the floor, twisting round to position himself back at the side of the sofa. Kala sat up and ran a hand through her hair.

  Shit, that was close.

  “Here’s the wine,” Vika announced as she came through the door, shopping bag in hand. “I got back as fast as I could.”

  Didn’t you just.

  Before Kala could say anything, Tor got up off the floor and made his way to the doorway. He gave Vika’s arm a playful punch on his way past.

  “I’ll leave you two to it, anyway. Have a good evening.”

  “More wine for us,” Kala commented casually, hearing his footsteps thump up the stairs. She kept her face straight as Vika crossed to sit next to her, wine in hand.

  That had hurt, and it was stupid, but it had. A two-minute fumble and now Tor couldn’t even stand to be in the room with her?

  Maybe he didn’t want to be hard in the same room as his sister. Yeah, that could be it.

  Or maybe it was exactly what she’d said she wanted. Tall, dark commitment-phobe. He wasn’t going to get any sex, so he’d left.

  Whatever.

  Vika was suggesting putting a movie on and Kala found herself agreeing without really listening. She was here to see Vika, after all, not Tor.

  Hell, she might never even see Tor again.

  Chapter One

  #xa0;

  Two years later

  Rain spattered the windows of the ferry, the sunlight pale and unwelcoming. At her table in the cafeteria, Kala slouched in her seat and stared at her laptop, its screen bright and unhelpful.

  The last email from her editor, Mack, still blazed at her.

  So while you’re there, I hear Norway has a great paranormal history—why don’t you come back with a story?

  Yeah. Great.

  She was no stranger to this sort of request. It came with the territory of freelancing for paranormal magazines. But she had really hoped this time off would be time off. Not time spent trawling libraries for myths and legends.

  And saying no to Mack was just not done, not if she wanted more work to come her way.

  She clicked open her File Explorer. A list of articles appeared on the screen, all named after mysterious phenomena. Black-eyed children. Big cats on Bodmin Moor. Stage psychics. And there, in the middle, was one short filename.

  BF.docx

  Kala stared at it hopelessly. The date it had last been saved glowed alongside it. It hadn’t been updated in over a month.

  Hell, she hadn’t even opened it in over a month. She’d been putting it off. Should she work on it? No, I’ve got more important stuff to do. Even though she had wanted to, she’d forced it aside.

  She was never going to get the damn thing finished. She should just delete it and forget about it. Nobody was going to want it, anyway.

  She sighed, straightening her back as she glanced down at her watch. Not long now before they would arrive in Oslo. Vika was meeting her at the ferry port. It had been over a year since she’d last visited her friend…not to mention her brother, Tor.

  Maybe she could grill them for local stories instead. It wasn’t exactly how she had wanted to spend her time, but it was preferable to reading ancient texts. Vika’s lived here all her life, she’ll know whatever there is to be known.

  And in the meantime, she could kick back and relax—the main reason she was here in the first place. And if Mack had a problem with that, he could go and boil his head.

  * * * *

  The house was just as she’d remembered it, and so was Vika. A vision of polished wood floors and ceilings, decorated with cream-colored furnishings, rugs and drapery and kept to impeccable neatness by a woman who seemed to match the surroundings—tan, all blonde hair and ice-blue eyes and white teeth. Vika put Kala to shame whenever she saw her.

  “You always look so neat,” Kala had commented the last time she had visited. “I make the place look untidy.”

  Vika had laughed, but to Kala’s mind it was true. Her own wavy hair—which was now dyed blue—her smudgy makeup and curvy figure seemed to explode into view next to Vika’s almost military precision. Her friend was an image of Nordic perfection while she was a hot mess.

  Which made it even more unbelievable that Tor was Vika’s brother.

  As Vika led her into the living room, chatting, Kala allowed her thoughts to stray to the absent man.

  She never mentioned him in her emails to Vika. It was too damn awkward. So how’s your, uh, brother? Way too embarrassing. But she remembered him, remembered his muscular arms, his loose-limbed walk, his messy dark hair and the line of his jaw.

  She was a hot mess but Tor Viitanen was just plain hot.

  “I’ve been so looking forward to you getting here,” Vika commented from the kitchen doorway, returning with two glasses of wine in her hands. “Four months of being able to cook proper food. Tor only wants the basics after lugging lumber all day.”

  “Well, don’t piss him off for my benefit.” Kala reached up and took t
he wine. Vika settled herself down on the opposite sofa.

  “Nah. As long as he’s got meat, he’s happy. But I’ve been dying for a chance to whip up a sauce or do a soufflé. He doesn’t appreciate anything that doesn’t moo.”

  Kala laughed, wondering if she should moo when he came home.

  “He’s been saying I need to eat more, anyway, so maybe he’ll give it a rest now.”

  Kala eyed her over the rim of her glass. “Saying you need to eat more?”

  “Yeah. He says I’m getting too thin. I can’t see it myself.”

  Getting too thin? Kala paused, looking her friend up and down. Tor had a point. Vika definitely seemed thinner than before, even a little haggard in the face.

  “You do look like you’ve lost a bit of weight.”

  “I may have a little, but nothing he needs to worry about.” Vika took a gulp of her wine. “Do you still play the harp? Because I borrowed my mother’s, if you want to practice on it.”

  “Thanks. I will.” It was something Kala had taken up in the last two years and she’d been worried about becoming rusty.

  “Are you still freelancing for Spirit Voices?”

  “Oh, yeah. Actually, I was going to ask you about that. Mack’s suggested I do a story about something Norwegian. Great paranormal history, he says. What do you think?”

  Vika paused for a moment, her eyes drifting closed.

  “Well, yes. There’s a lot of myths and legends around all of Scandinavia. But something specific… I’m not sure. I’d have to think about it. Ask Tor when he gets back from the lumberyard—he might remember something.” Vika paused and cocked her head as the sound of jingling keys came from outside. “Speaking of.”

  Kala glanced at the door as she heard the click of the lock, a slam, then footsteps in the hallway. Her heart leaped into her throat. How long had it been since she had seen Tor? Had he changed? Was he still…?