Hint of Danger
Contents
Author’s Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Keep Reading
Chapter One
Bonus Scene
A Note from Meg
Visions of Death Blurb
Excerpt from Visions of Death
Reaper’s Blood Blurb
Excerpt from Reaper’s Blood
Acknowledgments
Also By Meg Anne
About Meg Anne
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright 2020 © Meg Anne
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-951738-99-0 (Paperback Edition)
You may not copy, distribute, transmit, reproduce, or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (including without limitation electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, printing, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the author.
Permission requests can be sent to Meg Anne via email: Meg@MegAnneWrites.com
Cover Art by Atlantis Book Design
Edited by ALD Editing
Proofread by Dominique Laura
Created with Vellum
“Memories are bullets.
Some whiz by and only spook you.
Others tear you open and leave you in pieces.”
Richard Kadrey, Kill the Dead
Author’s Note
This book picks up the morning after The Monster Ball Year 2. You can enjoy this story without having read Shade of Danger, but if you’d like to fill in some of the blanks regarding Lina’s memories, you can start HERE.
Chapter One
Lina
She sprinted forward, her heartbeat louder than the roar of thunder. The black walls of the alley were illuminated only by brief flashes of lightning.
Still she ran, feet stumbling over themselves in her haste, water from the storm splashing her already drenched legs.
Someone was coming.
Heart in her throat, she pumped her arms faster, not seeing the wall looming before her until she was crashing into it. There was no time to check her momentum. Bouncing off the wall, she fell to the floor and scrambled to get back up.
It was too late.
“Please.” The word was a ragged cry. A sound born from true terror.
The next few seconds came in flashes. The soft click of metal striking metal. The hiss of flame meeting the rain. A face cast into being by a small orb of light. Gray eyes peering down at her.
With nothing left to lose, she opened her mouth and screamed.
Lina sat up, blankets tangling around her legs like cotton shackles as the terror from her dream held her captive. It was a struggle to draw breath, to suck in air that felt like equal part fire and blades as it scraped against her throat.
Is breathing supposed to be this hard?
Blinking, she glanced around, her mind still scrambling to separate dream from reality. Where am I? It was hard to make out much except shapes of furniture in the shadows of early morning, but one thing was obvious; she didn’t recognize this bedroom.
Fuzzy memories swam to the surface and she began to recall how she’d arrived in this place that felt both strange and safe. An invitation that was delivered by moonlight. Supernatural creatures of both fantasy and nightmare disguised by formal wear. Her—solidly human. Drinks . . . a lot of them. Slow dancing with a Viking under the stars . . . wait, that couldn’t be right. Do Vikings even exist anymore? And would a werewolf really wear a tuxedo? How much of last night was real?
Lifting a trembling hand, she rubbed at her chest, the feeling of the sweat-dampened T-shirt dragging across her skin a foreign sensation, as was the frantic pounding of her heart. She paused, reveling in the novelty of it. A heartbeat—her heartbeat. Not only that, but a body.
Holding out her hand, she wiggled her fingers. They were there. Real. Not the incorporeal form she’d been unable to see for she didn’t know how long.
Her breath left her in a whoosh.
“I’m . . . I’m alive.”
A high-pitched burst of hysterical laughter turned into a stunted scream as the door to the room crashed against the wall.
A man stood framed by the doorway; his ax held high, ready to eliminate the threat. His hair was plastered to his head, the light blond strands appearing almost bronze as water dripped down his chiseled face. Pale blue eyes glittered like twin pieces of arctic frost as they swept across the bedroom. His lips were pulled back in a snarl of potent rage, his thick beard only serving to emphasize the promise of impending violence rolling off of him.
That answers my question about Vikings.
The sight of him sent her heart rate spiking once more, but this time it had nothing to do with fear. He, at least, was familiar. Very familiar. If her foggy recollection of the night before was correct, they’d done more than dance . . . they’d kissed. Repeatedly. The memory of those kisses sent a wave of heat through her new body. Was it normal to feel this attracted to a man she’d just met? One whose name she barely knew?
“Nord,” she whispered hoarsely, her eyes following the path created by dozens of tiny water droplets cascading down his body.
My scream must have interrupted his shower, Lina realized absently. Not that she was complaining.
Not with that view.
Even Nord’s muscles had muscles. Muscles that bunched and flexed delightfully as he lowered his weapon and gave the room a final scan.
Lina’s eyes drifted further south, heat flooding her cheeks as her mouth went dry. Ink covered almost every visible inch of his tanned skin. Her fingers itched to trace the thick black lines that swirled in dozens of intricate shapes, to discover the story written on his body as if she’d be able to decipher the hidden message etched into his flesh through touch alone.
She wasn’t sure whether he realized he was naked or if he simply didn’t care. There were many things she didn’t know about the man she’d gone home with last night.
Or about herself, for that matter.
Amnesia was fun that way. She might have a body again, but she was still lacking all of the memories that should accompany it. The only past she could recall was her time as a ghost. And there wasn’t much in the way of memories worth recalling from that lonely part of her life.
Nord’s grip shifted on his weapon, and she caught the flash of metal catching light. But it was not the sharp blade reflecting the moonlight. It was his rings—one for each finger.
Heat raced through her body, and Lina dragged her eyes back up his towering form, her gaze snagging once more. This time on the thick silver chain around his neck and the small white ring that hung just below the hollow of his throat.
“Lina?” he asked, his voice
a deep rasp she barely heard over her still racing heart.
It took more effort than it should have to force her eyes to finish their journey to Nord’s face. This time they focused on the shape of his lips as he spoke.
“Lina?” he asked again, his low and lightly accented voice tinged with concern.
Licking her lips, Lina blinked and managed to croak, “Yeah?”
“Are you all right?”
She let out a shaky laugh. “Hard to tell.” It wasn’t like she had much to compare it to. As far as her mind was concerned, she’d just woken up from her first night’s sleep. Ever.
Nord frowned, clearly disturbed by the answer. “I heard you cry out. Nightmare?” he guessed.
“I-I think so,” she managed, lifting a shoulder, and causing wisps of shoulder-length blonde hair to tickle her skin. “I didn’t realize dreams could feel so . . . real.” Terrifying, she mentally corrected. If real was what it felt like to be sitting here talking to him, then what she’d experienced in that dream had been so much more.
He studied her, his face unreadable in the soft light of early morning. “Why don’t you come get some coffee? Fin made a fresh pot.”
Fin . . . Finley. The name dredged up the image of a smiling man she’d met only briefly when she’d arrived here after the ball. He was a friend of Nord’s and a charmer to be sure. But if she was being honest, her interest was piqued by the promise of coffee. She’d always wondered what the fuss was about.
“Unless you’d rather try to go back to sleep,” Nord added, pulling her attention back to him.
Lina’s eyes shifted to the small clock by the side of her bed. Seven thirty-six. She hadn’t been asleep for more than a couple of hours.
“No,” she said, as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. “I don’t think I could fall back asleep even if I wanted to.” Then she kicked her legs out a couple more times just because she could.
I have legs! Now she knew what that mermaid had felt like.
“Kitchen is just past the bathroom on the left,” he said, stepping out of the room. “Join us whenever you’re ready.”
Lina felt a small smile tug her lips up as she got an eyeful of Nord’s retreating figure. A massive tree spanned the full length of his back; thick, twisting roots curling down his spine and tapering off as they reached the taut globes of his ass. The Viking wasn’t tattooed everywhere, after all.
Once he disappeared from sight, Lina fell back on the bed, a low groan escaping as she scrubbed her hands down her face. Her head was pounding. Likely from the barrage of hazy images her brain was still trying to sort through. That, or all the alcohol she’d had the night before.
It had seemed like a good idea . . . at the time.
What better way to give her new body a real test drive? Especially if she didn’t have to worry about the consequences. She’d been convinced that whatever magic brought her to The Monster Ball would return her to her ghostly state as soon as it ended. Lina couldn’t have been more excited that she’d been wrong.
The absurdity of her current situation struck her then. Alive for less than eight hours and she’d already gotten drunk and gone home with a stranger. If that wasn’t bad enough, said stranger actually owned and knew how to use an ax. Weren’t there movies about girls as dumb as her? One of her old ‘roommates’—her nickname for the humans whose apartments she haunted—used to love watching them.
What other option did she really have though? It wasn’t like she had an actual home to go back to. Or a family she remembered, for that matter. Wouldn’t that have been a hell of a reunion? Surprise! I’m not dead anymore, do you have a place I can crash for the night?
She didn’t even know if this body matched the one she’d lost when she died.
Besides, if she was being honest, she’d have chosen Nord regardless. Everything about their time together had felt like it was meant to happen. Like he was the reason she’d been at the party last night in the first place.
Lina chuckled to herself. “Okay, so in hindsight, not the smartest call. Try to remember not to do anything else that might kill you before you get a chance to actually live.”
Still laying back with her eyes closed, more moments from the night before sparked to life behind her eyelids. Standing on the rooftop of a building that had been her prison as much as her home. Brilliant green butterflies brought to life by magic. The scrape of Nord’s beard against her cheek and the husky sound of his voice as he whispered in her ear. And then . . . a pair of haunting gray eyes.
Her murderer’s eyes.
Lina jerked upright as the reminder crashed into her. She hadn’t just died; she’d been murdered.
Other moments from last night might be fuzzy, but that one was crystal clear. No one, no matter how drunk, could forget something like that.
As much as she wanted to focus on the more pleasant aspects of the evening—like the part where Nord pretended to spill his drink on her, or how his body molded against hers as they danced—she couldn’t deny there was another reason she was here. If she'd actually seen those eyes in the crowd last night, her murderer was still out there. She needed to find her killer before he found her. That meant she had to find a way to get her memories back, and fast.
Thankfully, Nord had offered to help her. It was time for him to start making good on his promise.
Surging to her feet, Lina stumbled a little at the rapid shift in position. She slowed and looked down at her legs, still in awe that they were really there. Seeing what she wore, Lina plucked at the borrowed shirt that hung to mid-thigh. It was appropriate for sleep maybe, but probably not breakfast. She didn’t have much in the way of options, she realized, biting on her lower lip. The only piece of clothing she owned was a skimpy black dress that showed off as much as it concealed, and she was pretty sure there was a name for it when a woman wore last night’s dress the morning after. Something about shame. Morning of shame? Cone of shame? That didn’t seem right, but best not to risk it. Just in case.
“T-shirt dress it is,” she said, standing in front of the mirror.
It was a shock, seeing herself clearly for the first time. Last night she’d only managed to catch glimpses of her reflection. Now that she had a chance to look her fill, Lina couldn’t quite wrap her head around the fact that she was looking at herself and not some pretty stranger.
She took in her reflection, noting her makeup smudged blue eyes and pursed lips, trying to marry the image in front of her to her mental picture of herself. It was impossible. Lina tilted her head, her eyes narrowing as she tried to get a better look. The woman in the mirror copied the movement.
Lina stuck out her tongue. So did the mirror-woman.
She poked a finger in her nose. Danced a little jig in a circle. Grimaced as her boobs bounced up and down, the heavy weight of them more than a little uncomfortable.
The woman in the mirror shared her discomfort, both of them reaching up to hold their jiggling breasts in place.
“Who knew boobs were such a pain in the ass?” she asked.
Her reflection didn’t have an answer.
Head shaking at her silliness, Lina grabbed her tangle of hair and twisted it up into a knot that listed drunkenly on top of her head. The epitome of women’s fashion, she was not, but she was presentable, and her hair was out of her face. That was a win as far as she was concerned and more than enough to give her a little confidence boost.
It lasted as long as it took to step into the hallway. Glancing both ways, Lina frowned as she realized Nord’s directions were of no use to her.
She had no idea where the bathroom was, which meant that the kitchen might as well be in another country. Recalling a game kids used to play on the street outside the building she’d resided in, Lina was about to shout the word ‘Marco.’
Thankfully, before she could embarrass herself, she made out the low cast of voices coming from the right. She turned in that direction. Straightening her shoulders, she took a deep breath, remember
ing something else the kids on the street used to say.
With a small smile, Lina whispered, “Ready or not, here I come.”
Chapter Two
Lina
Lina couldn’t deny the small thrill of victory she felt when she successfully reached her destination. Not that following the straight line of the hallway had been difficult, but it felt like a test, and her arrival signified that she’d passed it.
Her eyes roamed the industrial-looking kitchen with its exposed pipes and floating shelves before landing on the two men standing on the far end of the rectangular room.
“Morning, beautiful,” Finley said, his eyes giving her an appreciative sweep as he looked up from his phone.
Lina jumped, not used to people actually noticing her, let alone talking to her. A blush warmed her cheeks, although whether it was in response to the attention or simply embarrassment, she wasn’t sure. She might have discovered a hereto unknown preference for wild Viking men, but compliments—lighthearted or otherwise—were new, and she was far from immune to them.
Especially when delivered by insanely attractive men.
If Nord embodied a wild Viking, Finley screamed billionaire playboy. He casually leaned against the counter, as he smirked at Lina over the rim of his coffee mug. His carefully styled brown hair emphasized the neatly trimmed dark stubble lining his jaw, and his hazel eyes sparkled with mischief as his full, pouty lips lifted in a teasing smile. Even his outfit conveyed a sense of refinement laden with irreverence. The perfectly tailored navy suit showcased his powerful build, and the loose top button of his shirt solidified his playboy vibe. He knew exactly what effect he had on women and reveled in it.