Exposing secrets can be lethal.
Crow has had his eye on baby-faced Shelton since the young man became part of the Wyverns, but Crow is a committed Dom and unsure that Shelton is ready, or willing, to become his submissive. Getting trapped together during a dust storm provides an opportunity to find out.
When the dust settles, the winds have scoured the desert and uncovered a shallow grave full of bodies. Smuggling people across the border is big business and Crow knows that the traffickers will not want their gruesome secret revealed to the authorities.
When Shelton is taken and used as collateral, Crow and the Wyverns have to decide just how far they are prepared to go to serve justice and save Shelton’s life.
About the Author
Lucinda lives in a small village in the English countryside, surrounded by rolling hills, cows and sheep. She started writing to fill time between jobs and is now firmly and unashamedly addicted.
She loves the English weather, especially the rain, and adores a thunderstorm. She loves good food, warm company and a crackling fire. She's fascinated by the psychology of relationships, especially between men, and her stories contain some subtle (and some not so subtle) leanings towards BDSM.
Read an Excerpt
Copyright © L.M. Somerton 2017. All Rights Reserved, Totally Entwined Group Limited, T/A Pride Publishing.
Shelton sat on the enormous couch in the communal area of The Wyverns’ headquarters, laptop balanced on his knees. Next to him, Orlando de la Pena, his friend and sub to Rogue Hellaby, The Wyverns’ sometimes-grouchy leader, was painting his toenails a nauseating shade of lime green. Between them was a tray laden with Twinkies, cans of soda and a huge bowl of popcorn.
“Where did you get that T-shirt?” Shelton asked. The garment, which matched Orlando’s nail polish, had a slogan on the front reading ‘I make snark, what’s your superpower?’
“Kit gave it to me last time he was over. He seemed to think it suited me.”
Shelton laughed. “He’s so bad. Has Rogue seen it yet?”
“No.” Orlando wiggled his toes. “He got in really late. They all did. He didn’t regain consciousness when I got up so I left him sleeping. Like a baby. Well, not really, ‘cause he’s all grown up, but he does look kinda cute when he’s snuffling away, no doubt having kinky dreams about yours truly.”
“It was after three, wasn’t it?” Shelton avoided the whole subject of Rogue’s dreams. Shelton had stirred in the early hours, aware of low voices and the thud of closing doors, but he hadn’t gotten up to see what was going on. Trouble would have set alarms going, so Shelton knew the disturbance was the rest of The Wyverns returning from their latest clandestine mission for Horatio Trap. If they’d needed him, his door would have been battered down. He had turned over, plumped his pillow then gone back to sleep.
“Three-thirty.” Orlando screwed the cap back on his bottle of polish. “Rogue didn’t even shower, just dropped into bed like a felled redwood. I bounced about a foot off the mattress. Seconds later he was snoring. He didn’t fuck me or spank me. Must have been exhausted.”
“Must have been.” Shelton rolled his eyes. “They’ve been gone over a week. I’m glad they’re back. This place is weird without them. Not that I don’t enjoy spending time with you.”
“And did you miss one big bad biker more than the rest?” Orlando gave him a knowing smirk.
“Of course not!” Shelton protested even though it wasn’t true. He knew it. Orlando knew it. He pushed his glasses up his nose. “Well, maybe just a bit.”
“When are you and Crow gonna start bumping uglies? He’s been eyeing you like a juicy steak after a famine for months.” As if the comment had sparked his appetite, Orlando grabbed a Twinkie then shoved it into his mouth.
Shelton admired Orlando’s confidence. He wasn’t nearly as assertive. Crow gave him the shivers—in a good way—but the big man was fierce and intimidating. He wanted him badly but was afraid to show it in case he was rejected.
“He looks out for you. He touches you all the time and gets right in the face of anyone who upsets you.” Orlando waved the end of his Twinkie in the air. “I’ve even seen you in his lap.”
“I don’t know. I’m not interested in being a notch on his bedpost. He’s never tried to take things any further. I think I’m just too geeky for him.” Shelton took a swig of his soda. “And besides, he’s a Dom. He’s a member at The Scourge. He’ll be on the lookout for a sub.”
“Mmm. All that yummy hotness and he’s kinky too. What’s not to like?”
“I’m not… I mean, I don’t want to suggest there’s anything wrong with it, but I’m not like you, Orlando.”
“True. You’re not nearly as cute. I’ve never seen you in a pair of leather pants and you’re far too nice to the bunch of louts who bunk down here.”
Shelton sighed. “You forget, I’m a Wyvern too.”
Orlando gave him a speculative look. “I think of you as a Wyvern-lite. Less attitude, less oil under your fingernails and less likely to find rusty bike parts a source of fascination.”
“I think I should be insulted, but I’m not. That isn’t what I meant though, and you know it. I’m not a…submissive.” Shelton whispered the last word in case saying it louder might make it a lie. He hoped he hadn’t upset his friend.
“Shelton, Shelton…what am I going to do with you? For someone who spends so much time on the wonderweb, I’d have thought you would have at least done some research. There’s no one-size-fits-all in the world of Domination and submission.”