“I guess you should. The vardøger commands it.”
Kala’s answer vanished into the air as the planchette began to move again.
YOU KNOW
“Oh, really?” Kala asked, feeling bold. “I know what? Or does Tor know?”
IT’S YOU
Kala blinked.
“It’s me? What’s me? Or Tor?”
ALWAYS YOU
“Okay, you know what?” Tor cut in, his voice irritated. “How about you stop speaking in riddles, or we walk?”
The planchette paused, quivering for a moment. Kala held her breath.
Then, in a sudden movement, the Ouija board shot up from the table and straight into the light bulb, glass shattering all over the floor.
“Shit!” Kala jumped back, her hands shooting to her head. There was glass in her hair. As she swept her fingers through it, brushing the shards out, a dart of pain flashed through her finger.
“Oh, fuck. I think I’m bleeding.”
“Here.” Tor picked up the candle. “Show me.”
Kala held her finger up to the flickering light, revealing a small bead of blood near her first knuckle.
“That’s not too bad. I think Vika’s got some plasters upstairs.” Tor lifted the candle toward the stairs, obviously intending to light the way, but the sweeping movement blew out the flame. They were plunged into darkness.
Kala reached out to him, catching his muscled biceps. She stepped forward blindly and his hand fell on her shoulder then ran down to her waist, pulling her against him.
Tor…
Her head fell back, then Tor was right there and his mouth was on hers, a wave of heat rippling down to her cunt.
She held on to him, feeling the hard curves of his muscles under her hands, the firmness of his body pressed against hers—and the hardness of his cock against her stomach.
Oh…
“Are you two okay down there?”
Vika’s voice rang down the staircase. Tor and Kala broke apart, breathless, Kala’s eyes straining to meet his through the dark.
“I’ll, uh—” Tor broke off. “I’ll get you that plaster.”
Kala followed him through the cellar, blinking as the door above them opened, sending down light from the kitchen.
She’d thought she was imagining it, but now she had proof of what Tor couldn’t know.
The vardøger kissed just like him.
Chapter Three
#xa0;
The library was a modern building, long windows on every wall sending in blazes of light. Tucked into a corner, her laptop on the table, Kala paused in her note-taking and reread what she had written.
There had been a lot of different articles and chapters about the vardøger, but most boiled down to the same pieces of information. A vardøger was described as a form of reversed déjà vu, a spirit that preceded the arrival of the subject. It could appear visually, by voice, by other sounds or by scent, but in any fashion, it gave the impression of having seen or heard the person before their arrival.
More interesting was how it was connected with the person. One article had made a suggestion which had struck a chord.
It’s believed a vardøger is triggered by the thought of coming home.
Hayley had said it only happened on nights when her husband knew what time he was leaving. So when a person—when Tor—had an intention to come home, the vardøger went on ahead.
There was no explanation of the twenty-minute time period, but that wasn’t Kala’s main concern.
It wasn’t unheard of for a vardøger to interact with people. However, the specific phenomenon she was researching—the spirit preceding the subject coming home from work—made no mention of interaction. It was all a blueprint for the actual arrival home.
So why did it talk to me on the Ouija board?
And why did it kiss me?
Maybe the spirit on the board hadn’t been the vardøger after all. It was difficult to be sure. There were no records she could find of anyone having attempted to communicate with one that way. But if whatever-it-was wanted to claim itself to be the vardøger, talking to it again might not be any more edifying.
And asking it why it had kissed her would probably be pointless.
The words of the article echoed in her head.
Triggered by the thought of coming home.
Had Tor been thinking about kissing her and somehow communicated that idea to the vardøger?
She forced herself to squash the immediate sparkling feelings the thought created. Tor had kissed her himself last night. And he had wanted her, she had felt it. She had definitely felt it.
But it didn’t necessarily mean much more than that.
She had let herself stew over his memory for too long. Having a crush on her best friend’s unattainable older brother was one thing—letting herself get emotionally involved was another, in particular when he might not even want to get tied up with his younger sister’s friend.
And even more so when he lived in Norway and she lived in England.
She had to be careful. She didn’t want her friendship with Vika damaged by a meaningless fling with Tor. It would be horrible to get on the ferry home knowing she’d destroyed everything for nothing but sex.
Even if it was with Tor.
Assuming there even was anything with Tor.
The email icon popped up in the corner of her screen. Mack’s username was half-visible. Rolling her eyes, Kala opened the message.
Hi K,
Glad to hear you got something from the investigation, but maybe you’d get more if you were alone. I suggest you have another try and ask some more questions.
Mack
Kala closed the message, thinking hard.
It was worth a try, she supposed. Maybe the spirit had felt restricted by Tor’s presence. It certainly hadn’t appreciated his last question. And she doubted he’d be willing to do it again, anyway, after the way he’d responded to it.
A memory of his response to her flickered in her brain and she flushed. Forcing the image aside, she clicked back to her file list and hovered the mouse over the BF file.
Write it, the spirit had said.
Can I really do this?
She’d wanted to for such a long time. She had it all planned out—story outline, character sketches. And if she wanted to catch the wave of interest in Bigfoot stories, now was the time to do it.
But she’d let herself believe the dismissive, mocking reviews in the press, the so-called shock of the tabloids, and had left it to rot on her laptop.
Fuck it. I should at least try.
Kala opened the file, scanned it to remind herself where she was up to and began typing.
* * * *
When Kala had arrived back at the house, Vika had been lying on the sofa, a hot water bottle pressed to her stomach.
“Are you okay?”
“My stomach, it’s been hurting all day.” Vika closed her eyes. “I don’t know what to do. I’ve taken painkillers, but they haven’t worked.”
“Do you want me to handle dinner tonight?”
Vika paused, then slowly began to sit up. Kala put her arm behind her shoulders to help.
“Actually, if you would, that’d be great. I think I might go to bed. You don’t mind entertaining Tor, do you?”
Kala stifled a hysterical laugh. Entertaining him, indeed.
“No problem. You head upstairs and I’ll sort everything.”
“Are you planning on doing another investigation tonight?”
Of course, it would come as no surprise to Vika if she was interested in doing another. She’d told her about the events last night when they had come back upstairs, as a distraction while Vika was treating her cut finger.
‘‘It’s you’? What did that mean?’
‘No idea.’
‘Probably nothing,’ Tor had commented from the doorway, his arms folded across his chest. ‘I think it was fucking with us.’
‘It might have been,’
Kala had conceded. ‘But I’d like to know why.’
Tor had turned and disappeared upstairs, throwing his last words over his shoulder, ‘Good luck with that.’
And that had been that.
“The dinner stuff’s on the top shelf of the fridge,” Vika added as she began to make her way out of the room. “It’s duck. Tor likes his pink.”
“That’s fine. So do I.” Kala waved her out, hoping against hope that Vika hadn’t been planning anything too complicated. She liked to cook, but her skills were way below Vika’s usual meal choices.
Looking in the fridge, she found duck breasts and an array of vegetables. Not too tricky then. Nevertheless, Kala found herself so focused on the meal that when the door banged she was surprised to find Tor appearing in the kitchen doorway. If the vardøger had been tonight, she hadn’t even heard it.
Or him. Whatever it was.
“I’m impressed,” Tor commented, leaning against the doorframe.
“At what? I do cook occasionally.”
“I’m sure you do. But Vika never trusts me in her kitchen.”
“Ah. Well, she probably wouldn’t trust me, either, but she’s not feeling well. So tonight, you’re getting duck à la Kala.”
“I look forward to it. Do I have time to get cleaned up?”
“It’ll be done in ten minutes.”
“No problem.” Tor vanished, leaving Kala to turn back to her roasted vegetables. She had a feeling that while Tor might like his duck lightly done, he wouldn’t go for vegetables al dente.
She was just setting the plated food out when Tor reappeared.
“Duck pink enough for you?”
“Looks good to me.” Tor sat down at the table and started in on the meal, pausing mid-bite as Kala was beginning hers.
“Okay, you’re definitely cooking again. This is great.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
Deciding to avoid the subject of the previous investigation or any future ones, Kala made conversation about Tor’s job for a while. She had known he worked at a lumberyard, but Tor made it sound like a comedy club, bringing out anecdotes about his co-workers until they were both laughing.
“What about your place?” Tor asked, laying his fork down on his empty plate.
“It’s not as interesting as yours, by the sound of it.”
“Is that why you’re branching out?” Tor raised his eyebrows and his wineglass at the same time. “Into erotica?”
Kala paused, wondering how best to answer that.
“What made you decide on erotica, anyway?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Kala took a sip from her glass, giving herself time to think. “It just seemed to come naturally to me. Though I don’t think anyone at work would be impressed by it.”
“Oh? Why?”
“The last time anyone mentioned erotica, they were all saying the only people who write it are those who aren’t getting any.”
Tor threw her a sardonic look.
“Which makes perfect sense. And I suppose the only people who write crime are those who aren’t burying bodies.” He shook his head. “I’d have thought it just means a healthy interest in sex. Which we should all have.”
Kala narrowed her eyes at him. “Which you know I have.”
For a moment, Tor held her gaze. Kala flushed, her skin tingling, as she remembered their kiss, their bodies pressed together.
Then Tor lifted his glass again and the spell was broken.
“You should definitely write it.”
Kala’s mind flicked back to the library and the Bigfoot file. “I intend to.”
Not wanting to leave the sink full of plates, Kala made a start on the washing up as soon as they were finished, waving a hand to usher Tor out of the room. Tor, however, chose to hover in the doorway and watch.
“So what’s your next step with your article?”
Kala considered for a moment, then decided to be honest. “I’m going to have another go at talking to it. Just me this time.”
Tor snorted. “Best of luck.”
“Well, it might not work, but what the hell. At least I can say I’ve tried.”
“If you say so.”
Oh, fuck off. Kala bit her lip and continued washing, forcing her irritation down.
“Seriously, if there was anything there, it was just fucking with our minds. I don’t know why you’d want to—”
Something flashed in Kala’s head. She dropped the sponge and turned to face Tor.
“Oh, don’t you? Maybe because I like having a job, thank you very much. I didn’t ask for your permission.”
“Did you ask for Vika’s permission?”
“Vika is fine with it, actually. It’s only you that has a problem with it.” Oh, forget the dishes. Kala threw up her hands in frustration. “I’m going upstairs. You can think what you want.”
As she passed him, his hands fell on her shoulders, spinning her round to face him before she could respond.
“Never mind what I fucking think,” Tor growled, then his mouth was on hers.
Tor.
Kala stumbled, clutched at his muscled forearms to maintain her balance, then felt herself move forward without thinking, pressing her body against his. Her skin tingled with the contact, a deeper burn beginning to uncoil in her gut.
This is a really bad idea.
She ignored the little voice in her head as Tor’s hands slid lower to cup her buttocks, sending a rush of wetness to her core. I don’t care if this is a bad idea. I’ve wanted this for too long.
But what she had wanted wasn’t what was on offer. She heard herself again asking for tall, dark, commitment-phobic. That was what she had said, but it wasn’t what she needed. Not really.
And it wasn’t worth ruining her relationship with Vika to sleep with her brother.
But she wanted Tor, wanted the fingers that were sliding under her curved cheeks to brush temptingly where he couldn’t reach, making her long to rip off her jeans and let him have his way.
If I go through with this…
It was too much of a risk. Risking her friendship and risking her heart. She had to stay in control.
So she did the only thing she could think that would satisfy him.
She dropped to her knees, running her hands along his body, along his firm stomach and thighs before reaching for the zip of his jeans, tormenting the hardness underneath.
Tor groaned and Kala bit her lip, slowly dragging the zipper down, down, down until his cock sprang free, hard and just begging to be sucked.
She closed her mouth over the head, teasing with her tongue, tasting him and oh, his musky scent was overwhelming, making her ache to take him farther into her throat and swallow him whole.
“Oh, God,” Tor gasped and Kala gave way to the impulse, sliding his cock into her mouth, deeper and deeper until he was sheathed almost to the hilt.
Bet you never knew I could do that, Tor…
He was above her, moaning, letting out breathless pleas for more, more, don’t stop, and she let her tongue drag the full length of his shaft as she pulled back, right back until only the tip remained before descending again to take him in.
Closer, closer. She tasted pre-cum all along her tongue, more, more, and she cupped his balls in one hand; they tightened while she let him thrust into her throat, ignoring the sting of need growing more urgent in her cunt. Now was not the time.
She focused instead on what she would do when she reached her room. She would lock the door, throw off her jeans and press her hand to her pussy, dip her fingers inside as her clit throbbed against the heel of her hand, circling over and over, and it would be short work, very short work, while she pictured Tor’s hand in its place—
“Oh! ”
Tor let out a guttural cry and his release flooded her mouth, hot and salty and hers.
Swallowing, Kala drew back; slowly she stood to face him. She met his eyes challengingly, teasingly, before turning away, moving toward the door and through it
without looking back.
Thank goodness, her bedroom door locked.
Chapter Four
#xa0;
“Tor’s been asked to work late tonight, since he’s off tomorrow,” Vika explained when Kala arrived back from another day at the library. “He won’t be home until at least ten, maybe later.” She raised an eyebrow and grinned. “So I’ll just use a timer when I make dinner.”
Kala stifled the clenching in her stomach. In many ways, it was better not to run into Tor today. It had been something of a relief when he’d already left by breakfast that morning. She had no idea how to look him in the eye or how to behave in front of Vika.
But still…
She shook the feeling off, focusing instead on the investigation in front of her. Just stay calm and get this done.
At least Vika seemed to be feeling better today. She’d urged her out to the library again with a force not quite suited to the moment. Kala had decided to go along with it rather than annoy her.
“Feel free to use the cellar again,” Vika told her over their dinner. “I’ve put a new light bulb in. Would you mind using it this time? If it’s going to throw stuff, I don’t really want lit candles down there.”
“Yeah, of course. No problem.” Kala rolled her eyes. “Without Tor pissing it off it’ll hopefully be a lot calmer, anyway.”
“I don’t doubt it. But let’s not give it naked flames just in case.”
Once dinner was over and the plates washed up, Kala tucked the Ouija board under her arm and made her way down into the cellar. As she sat, she laid her mobile phone on the floor beside her. If the planchette got thrown into the light bulb again, she could use that for a torch. Although she didn’t intend to say anything that would make the vardøger angry.
She rested her fingertips on the planchette and spoke.
“Are you here?”
The planchette immediately moved to YES.
That’s a good start. Kala paused, glancing down at her notepad, which she had left next to the phone. A list of possible questions looked back at her.
Echoes of Love Page 3
