Can they open up to one another and explain exactly what they want in the bedroom?
Oliver and Langham are on the hunt for another killer—one who befriends women then kills them because he thinks God told him to. He uses a roulette wheel to determine their manner of death, and the result is never pretty.
During their investigation, Oliver and Langham have to visit a BDSM club, knowing the killer will be there. However, Oliver’s senses are messed up—too many people around, and the stage show is a little too interesting—so the man they seek gets away. After the show, the two men have questions about what they want in the bedroom. Can they open up to one another and explain exactly what they want?
Through messages from the dead, Oliver knows the killer will lure another woman away very soon. The question is, will Oliver and Langham reach her in time before the roulette wheel spins again?
Reader Advisory: This book contains references to off-screen sexual assault and murder from the killer's Point of View.
Publisher's Note: Although books in this series can stand alone they are best enjoyed in order.
General Release Date: 14th February 2014
Oliver couldn’t sleep. Langham had been called out again—just so there was a detective on scene, they’d said—but Oliver doubted Langham would be back much before the sun came up. They’d only just got home from dealing with the Islands in the Stream case, and Oliver had thought they could finally relax for a bit. Yeah, they’d relaxed all right, but only for a quick, intense fuck before Langham’s phone had chirped again and he’d been off.
I should be used to that shit, but I’m not. Oliver resented it at times—times like now when he wanted nothing but to huddle under the covers with Langham and fall asleep.
But what can I do? It’s his job—my job too when I get word from the dead and they give me information to pass on to him. It’s never going to change, unless he leaves the force, but those people—dead or alive—who contact me… That will never stop. Their voices will always get through.
Christ, the sex they’d just had was frantic, and Oliver had wanted to ask Langham to bite him, although where that idea had come from he didn’t know. Oliver had always wanted something kinkier than what they usually did but hadn’t been able to put a name to it, put it in a box with a label. He didn’t even know whether what he wanted had a name. He imagined if Langham bit him the heat would transfer to his cock, sizzling there for a while then intensifying the sensations in his bollocks. How could he ask for that without sounding like a dirty slut?
Yet he likes me being slutty, so what the fuck’s my problem?
Oliver needed to learn to express himself more, he knew that—and he was getting there day by day, bolder by the bloody minute—but he found it awkward sometimes, even though it was only Langham who would be listening. There was something unsettling about broaching a subject for the first time, wasn’t there? And being asked to be bitten hard was one subject he’d never thought he’d be discussing.
But why do I want him to do that?
Pleasure.
He’d been on the verge of asking afterwards, and when he hadn’t managed it, his heart had seemed to sink. He’d wanted to say, ‘Fuck, please, I want you to bite me!’ but he hadn’t said a word. Oliver remembered what had gone through his mind—he hadn’t wanted Langham to think less of him.
Still don’t.
So he was left to explore his need for that experience by himself, which might not be a bad thing. He could get things straight in his head, then who knew? Perhaps one day he’d have the courage to talk about it. For all he knew, Langham might want the same damn thing. He’d nipped Oliver in the past, but an outright serious bite…
I have a little voice whispering that I won’t know unless I ask, won’t get what I want if I don’t say I want it.
As a medium—or whatever the fuck Oliver was—he’d never once asked the spirits for help regarding himself. It never seemed right to use them for his own ends, and he wasn’t sure it would work anyway. But he was sorely tempted to put out feelers, to coax them into telling him what he was bloody looking for. It was weird, like being on a new journey, except he was at a fork in the road and didn’t know which path to take. Didn’t even know where his destination was. He wasn’t usually so indecisive these days—so shy, either—so this was like being back in the start of their relationship, when he hadn’t been able to express anything without feeling dumb and needy. He fought for what he wanted now, was a bold, independent bloke, and being unsure didn’t feel right.
In the morning he’d get up, alone as usual. He understood, what with Langham being a detective, that their lives were and would continue to be unpredictable, but sometimes he wished Langham had a normal nine-to-five job. One where he didn’t roll in at all hours, sometimes not even coming home at all. But being a detective was his life.
Who am I to insist he change his career? Which reminds me, I ought to get some sleep. I’m due at my job at the newspaper for nine. Maybe I’ll see him at some point today, but it’s unlikely unless the spirits contact me. He’s so busy. It’s a miracle we ever crossed paths at all—a miracle given to me by the spirits, and I’m ever thankful to them for that.
That made him think. Remember the day they’d met. If he recalled it all, it’d give him something to think about. Something other than being bitten.
Sarah Masters is a multi-published author in three pen names writing several genres. She lives with her husband, youngest daughter, and a cat in England. She writes at weekends and is a cover artist/head of art in her day job. In another life she was an editor. Her other pen names are Natalie Dae and Geraldine O’Hara.
Sarah also co-authors with Jaime Samms, and as Natalie Dae she co-authors with Lily Harlem under the name Harlem Dae.
There are no reviews for this title yet, be the first to write one.
£2.99 Buy Now
Add to Wishlist
Read a Sample
Send as a Gift
Available in:
epub, mobi, pdf 
