“Same to you,” he grinned at Amber, “both.”
Tall and rugged, Sean had the bearings of a boat captain and the charm of a rock. Bless him, but charisma wasn’t his thing. Gruff and handsome in a sea-weathered way, he’d been born to live life off the choppy shores of Maine and would likely die here. The same age as her, fine lines already stemmed out from the corners of his golden-flecked green eyes. But she always suspected it was his haunted gaze and the light layer of stubble forever on his square jaw that attracted Amber. The artist in her sister was endlessly drawn…especially to those she surmised might need saving.
A lot of good that did those in need when she left…because she always did.
Amber didn’t do dependable.
That was Megan’s forte.
“You already cooked them.” Megan pulled out the lobsters and plopped them into a pan. “Nice.”
“Yeah well, I knew you were having company.” He hung his coat, eyes never leaving Amber. “Brought Mema Angie’s homemade apple pie too.”
“Sweet. Hand-picked apples I’ll bet.”
“Yup.” Sean made himself at home and set to lighting a fire on the hearth. Thunder rumbled in the distance. “Storm’s nearly here.”
Megan nodded and pulled more items out of the bag. “Oh! She made her potato salad too.”
“Anything for you, Sea Siren.” Sean lit the fire then returned. “Beer?”
“You bet.” She tossed him one. “See what I did to our boat?”
“Your boat.” His eyes warmed. “No. Show me later.”
“Though it’s sexy as hell, are you gonna wear that wool Beanie all night?” Amber said, voice an octave lower than normal as she eyed his hat.
Sean twisted off the beer cap and took a long swig, eyes never leaving her. “Depends, sweetheart. You want me to?”
Amber sidled over next to him and fingered the material. “I think maybe I do.”
“Even if he’s sweating his ass off in it?” Veronica echoed from the couch.
“True. I don’t want you sweating too much.” Amber trailed a finger down his arm. “Yet.”
Sean’s arm snaked around her lower back and pulled her against his side, promise in his eyes. “I’m looking forward to ‘yet.’”
“Me too,” she murmured, hiding behind her ridiculously thick eyelashes.
Megan chuckled. “Feel free to get ‘yet’ out of the way now so we can all enjoy each other’s company.”
Veronica nodded. “Agreed.”
Amber waved away their suggestion. “Half the fun is in all those moments leading up to ‘yet’ right?” She pulled him toward the couch. “Come. Sit. Let’s catch up.”
“And that’s my cue to help you out,” Veronica said as she joined Megan in the kitchen.
“Right.” Megan nodded at the cabinet. “Plates.” Then at the drawer. “Forks and lobster crackers in there.”
“So how are you doing sis?” Veronica set four plates on the island, sharp eyes swinging her way. “Really.”
“Let’s not talk about Nathan again.”
“I wasn’t referring to your ex.” Her eyes swept over Megan’s gorgeous house then out onto the bay. “I mean this life of seclusion you’ve chosen.”
“It’s not that secluded.” She pulled out a stack of napkins and frowned. “I’ve made good friends and keep busy.”
“But it’s so different than how you lived before,” Veronica argued softly. “So different than who you are.”
“Actually, it’s better. Before I was unhappy. Now I’m happy.” She met her sister’s eyes. “Sort of like you modeling when you have a law degree.”
“Bad comparison.”
“Is it?” Megan grabbed forks while Veronica pulled out lobster crackers. “I did one thing to make money but always loved another thing. You model to make money, but your great love has always been defending those without much money. Which, by the way, won’t make you much money either. So how are we different except that I’ve pursued my ultimate goal?”
“As long as I’m young enough I might as well keep making money,” Veronica said.
“Pfft.” Megan shook her head. “You already co-own one of the top magazines in New York and have made tons of money modeling. You’re in a good enough financial position to make a career move. If for some reason you’re not, I’ll give you the money.”
Veronica looked as though she’d been slapped. “You’ll do no such thing.”
Before she could respond, her sister started setting the table. The oldest of the three, it wouldn’t be the first time Megan helped out her sisters financially. Whereas before Veronica may have accepted such an offer, things had changed over the past few years. Her sense of self-worth and pride had grown tremendously. Amber on the other hand had no issues ‘borrowing’ money on occasion. Or at least she’d never said otherwise.
If Megan had her way, she’d have both sisters set up in their dream homes doing whatever they liked for a living. She’d always made that clear. So when she joined Veronica at the table she said, “Sorry, didn’t mean to…”
When she trailed off, Veronica met her eyes. “It’s all good. Just not this week, okay?”
She nodded and said nothing more. Her sister had rebuilt her life since losing a child nearly eight years prior. And though immensely proud of how far she’d come, Megan still worried on occasion. Heartbreak like that never truly went away.
Another rumble of thunder shook the ground and the lights flickered.
“Not much longer then,” Sean murmured from the couch, his words loud enough but still tucked into Amber’s ever-eager ear.
“Food’s here and ready.” Not about to force anyone away from their moments of happiness she grabbed a fresh beer, drawn butter and sat at the table. “Eat if you’re in the mood.”
Amber grinned over her shoulder. “Be right there.”
Megan smiled as she cracked her lobster. Not so much for Amber but for Sean. While most best friends would say a girl who came and went was bad for him, her sister always put a smile on his face. And smiling wasn’t something he often did. While she’d gotten aggravated with her sister in the past, they seemed to have an agreement. One that she’d learned to steer clear of.
“Let’s eat while it’s hot,” Sean said, a steady grin on his face as he pulled Amber after him.
Now that was unusual. Typically, he’d do anything to keep her couch bound.
Amber seemed to sense the shift as well because she pouted as they sat. Regardless, she was gracious. “Thanks for all of this, Sean.” Her eyes met Megan’s. “And for having me this week.”
“No need to thank me.” Megan smiled and nodded at the potato salad. “It’s your favorite. Eat up.”
Conversation became common and comfortable as they cracked their lobsters and ate. All the while though, Megan’s eyes flickered toward the manuscript on her desk.
While she understood the flow of the story, she still couldn’t wrap her mind around the Viking king, Naðr Véurr. He belonged but didn’t. The manuscript was based around a medieval clan called the MacLomains and their love connections, the Brouns. Yet in the midst of all that was a Viking who claimed he possessed the blood of a dragon.
A dragon.
Yes, the mythological creature could be connected with the Orient, British Isles and maybe even Scandinavia but it bothered her. She wanted him to be a simple Viking king. A strong man who stepped away from all the fantastical nonsense that seemed to lace the pages of what Leslie was calling The MacLomain Series: Next Generation. She wanted him to be a seafaring man not made of magic and odd creatures but of brawn and honor as history suggested of the Vikings. If a man as renowned as Naðr Véurr was in a book, shouldn’t he be appreciated for what he truly was?
“And what is he again?”
“A man determined to win over my heart,” Veronica said.
Megan blinked a few times. They weren’t talking about her Viking king. Of course not. He didn’t exist.
“A
nd why is that?” Amber shook her head and shrugged. “Because he was good looking and said he’d make you a movie star.”
Veronica snapped her lobster claw so sharply juice squirted. “I only met the guy a few weeks ago and, by the way, I’ve no desire to be a movie star. Please.”
Amber rolled her eyes and arched a brow at the same time. “Of course not.”
Another clap of thunder rumbled and the lights flickered again.
“I guess Thor is busy tonight,” Veronica said, eyes on Megan.
It had become a thing now. Her sisters had gone beyond teasing her for her love of Norse mythology and now often included it in conversations. While she usually thought it cute, tonight she was feeling edgy. About her sisters being here? Not really. About the incoming storm? Never. About the manuscript?
Definitely.
Sean nudged her elbow. “You okay?”
She met his eyes, calmed as always by his easy presence. “Yeah. Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Here.” He plunked a few pieces of shucked lobster on her plate then grabbed her unshelled lobster. “Why don’t you relax and drink.”
Relax? Even he knew that was something she wasn’t good at. There was always something to get done. Mostly to do with her boat lately. “I can shuck my own lobster.”
“Sure.” The corner of his lip inched up a miniscule fraction. “But I can do it faster.”
Some things a girl couldn’t argue with. Offering a shrug, she leaned back and sipped her beer. Truth told, she wasn’t much in the mood for family, alcohol or good food but tried her best. And Sean knew it.
An hour later, they remained at the table. All of them had eaten and drank heartily but her.
“What’s the matter, sis,” Amber said, eyes concerned. “You’re not yourself.”
“Not in the least,” Veronica seconded.
Megan clenched her fist in her lap. They were right. She wasn’t. Something was niggling at her and she couldn’t put her finger on it. Like a door hadn’t been closed. Or she’d forgotten to say thank you to someone. There was an uneasy feeling creeping up within her and she simply couldn’t define it.
Sean handed her another beer. “You’ve barely touched the one you had. Drink a cold one and relax, okay?”
Was she tense?
Megan swigged the beer, eyes on the raging storm. The lights again flickered but didn’t go out. Soon though. She could almost time it. “Two more minutes. Max.”
“Huh?” Amber started then stopped. “Right. Electricity. I forgot how well you had that figured out.”
“What?” she asked.
“The electricity.” Amber notched her chin down as she looked at her. “Megan, are you with us? You seem a little out of it.”
“She’s fine,” Sean muttered. “Just spooked.”
“Spooked?” Veronica frowned. “By what?”
“Nothing,” she assured.
Sean’s eyes narrowed and he nodded out the window. “It’s back again.”
“Odin’s sacred bird,” she whispered.
Amber and Veronica looked out the window, eyes widening.
“Why is that huge bird sitting on your deck railing in the middle of this weather,” Veronica murmured.
“It’s a raven.” Megan shook her head and started clearing the dishes. “They’re getting confused lately. Climate change or something.”
“Climate change?” Amber helped her gather up the dishes, eyes to the window. “Sure. Fine. But that bird seems to be…”
A loud clap of thunder crashed overhead. The lights flickered then went out.
“Looking right at Megan,” Sean finished.
“Okay, I know you love Norse mythology and the Vikings sort of go hand and hand with your love for boats and the sea but,” Amber looked from the raven to Megan, “Am I missing something? Because this is sort of creepy.”
“No, it’s fine.” Megan turned to grab more plates. “It’s just the weather.”
Heavy gusts of wind blew yet the raven didn’t budge as it watched her.
The same couldn’t be said for the dozen or so ravens behind it.
Ping. Ping. Ping.
Birds started to slam into her windows in a rapid tangent.
God not again…
The ravens had come.
Chapter Two
“Your sisters would’ve understood.”
Megan remained crouched, head bent, arms wrapped around the helm of her small boat.
Sean twisted the cap off a bottle. Then silence. He would wait her out at this point. Which suited her just fine. The storm had come and gone. Nothing but a cold wind and errant drops of rain were left.
“You didn’t show them it, did you?”
Rolling back on her heels for at least the hundredth time in the past hour to disperse her weight, she gave no answer but pressed her cheek against the cool wood.
“God knows I can’t help you with this but maybe they can, Meg.” Sean sighed. “I’ve stood by you for the past few months but this is getting out of control.”
A long silence passed. She wasn’t ready. “It’s past midnight. You shouldn’t be drinking.”
Low laughter preceded more silence until he relented. “I live my life at sea. There’s no such thing as the right time to drink.”
Megan murmured, “I know.”
“So tell me.” Sean’s voice was soft and gruff. “Why am I out here worrying about you when I could be warm in bed with Amber? What happened with those ravens tonight? Because there are at least two dozen who managed to fly off despite hitting the window. Yet that big one is still perched there. He hasn’t budged an inch.”
“She,” Megan whispered.
“All right. She.”
Megan kept her cheek pressed against the wood and hoped with all her heart he’d go back to bed. Then she heard the heavy thump, thump of his boots propping up on the table. She clenched her jaw. She might’ve hoped for a lot. Sean leaving her in peace? Not a chance.
“Wait until you see the sketch Amber did of her.”
“Okay, I’m just going to say it,” Megan muttered. “Go away.”
A piece of paper slid across the floor and hit her foot.
“You know Amber. She gets a thought in her head and watch out, she’s gotta draw.”
Megan bit her lower lip. That was Amber for sure. Which made her wonder how fulfilling Sean’s night had likely been thus far. She lifted tired eyes to him. “Sorry, did I ruin it for you?”
The corner of his lips inched up slightly. “What do you need to hear right now, Sea Siren? Amber’s my free flying girl till the day she dies.”
So Amber slept with him but he was still out here worried about her. Thank god for best friends. Still, she hurt for him. Sean got that Amber was fly-by-night. He accepted it, probably always had. But it was hard for Megan to wrap her mind around. She’d been devoted to her ex, Nathan, and no one after.
“Listen—”
“No,” Sean said. “Not if it has to do with Amber.” He arched both brows. “Right now I need to know what’s up with you. Lotta crazy stuff happening lately.”
“Nothing I can’t handle.” She really wasn’t up for a heart to heart. The etching Amber drew caught her attention and she whispered, “Jesus.”
“Not bad, eh?”
“Haunting to say the least. She depicted the raven well.” Megan stood, unable to tear her eyes away from it. “And drew a Viking ship into the background.”
“Yup, floating the bay, riding those waves better than most I’ve seen out there.”
Amber had done an amazing job. She’d used the pencil in such a way that it appeared a ghost ship swung toward the shore... almost as if it was steering directly toward her house. “Odd how it almost seems the raven is calling the ship forward and all the other birds are getting caught in an incoming gale.”
“I thought the same thing,” he murmured. “Your sisters know you’ve got a thing with Viking ships. You should share what’s been going on lately
.” He nodded at her pocket. “And tell them about that.”
Naturally he knew the rock was there. She carried it everywhere. Megan set aside the drawing, pulled out the worn stone and absently trailed a finger along their newly constructed boat. Though she’d meant to keep it to herself, Megan couldn’t help but share with Sean. “The Viking’s name is in that manuscript.”
“Yeah, I know.”
She perked a brow. “Since when do you go anywhere near a book?”
“Since you spent more time staring at it than eating lobster.”
“Ah, well.” She sighed. “Couldn’t be helped.”
“Sooooo,” he watched her closely, “I’m at a loss here. Must be some strange coincidence that his name popped up in a book.”
Megan opened a drawer and pulled out the small, ancient metal box she’d found almost a year ago. This is what held the stones. Each had a runic symbol carved into either side. She dumped the other rocks into her palm and held out the box to him. “Seriously, what are the odds? The same name is carved into the inner lid of this. Naðr Véurr. Identical.”
Sean took the box, eyed the words and shook his head. “Sorry. I got nothing, hon.”
“And what about the whispers I’ve been hearing on the wind since the ravens went haywire?” She resumed trailing her fingers along the smooth edge of the boat. “Always the same name. His.”
“Are you sure this manuscript was written recently?” Sean frowned. “Maybe it’s been sitting on a back burner and you somehow saw it years ago.” He shrugged. “Or it could be a name used before by other people and someone buried this box as a game or something.”
“Yeah sure I guess both of those scenarios are possible but neither explains me hearing voices or why the ravens are going nutty.”
“I wouldn’t overly worry about the birds. I’ve seen ‘em do strange things this close to the shore.” He shot her a pointed look. “They get caught in wind shears, especially during hurricane season.”
“And the voices?”
“You know as well as me that sound travels differently here. Voices carry over the water sometimes from miles away. No offense but you’ve been pretty hung up on that rock and his name since you found the box.” Sean shook his head. “Sometimes we just hear what we wanna hear, sweetheart.”
Viking King (The MacLomain Series: Viking Ancestors, Book 1) Page 2