by Lynn Lorenz
Table of Contents
Title Page
Legal Page
Soul Bonds
Book Description
Dedication
Trademark Acknowledgements
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Rush in the Dark
Book Description
Dedication
Trademark Acknowledgements
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Edward, Unconditionally
Book Description
Dedication
Trademark Acknowledgements
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Pushing Phillip
Book Description
Dedication
Trademark Acknowledgements
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Epilogue
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About the Author
COMMON POWERS
Soul Bonds
Rush in the Dark
Edward, Unconditionally
Pushing Phillip
LYNN LORENZ
Common Powers
ISBN # 978-1-78651-829-3
©Copyright Lynn Lorenz 2016
Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright November 2016
Interior text design by Claire Siemaszkiewicz
Pride Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Pride Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Pride Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2018 by Pride Publishing, United Kingdom.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the authors’ rights. Purchase only authorised copies.
Pride Publishing is an imprint of Totally Entwined Group Limited.
If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book”.
SOUL BONDS
Book one in the
Common Powers series
It’s not how big the power, it’s how you use it.
Mitchell’s tired of one-night stands and casual encounters.
Sammi is a runaway sex slave who’ll do anything to stay free.
When they meet in a bar, Mitchell can’t believe his luck. Sammi is sex on two legs and seems to know just what Mitchell wants from a lover. But Sammi’s owner Donovan isn’t going to let him go so easily. He’s prepared to destroy anyone who stands in his way to get back his prized slave.
Is the bond between Mitchell and Sammi strong enough to stand up against the damage Donovan inflicts on their lives, or will it shatter?
Dedication
To my husband, who supported me from the beginning.
Trademark Acknowledgements
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Town Car: Ford Motor Company
Mercedes: Daimler AG
Jetta: Volkswagen Group
Galleria: Simon Property Group, Inc.
FedEx: FedEx Corporation
Hamlet: William Shakespeare
Corona: AB InBev
Twilight Zone: CBS Television Distribution
Mack: Mack Trucks, Inc.
Psycho: Paramount Pictures
Technicolor: Technicolor, Inc.
Chapter One
Sammi slipped between the shadows of the houses that bordered the avenue. His heart thudded as he pressed his back against the rough brick, and with a quick movement he swiped away the hair that fell over his eyes. There was no way he was going to return to Donovan.
Enough was enough.
With his teeth clenched so tightly they ached, Sammi watched for the black Town Car. Donovan and his thugs would be searching for him again tonight. Sammi doubted he could survive much longer on the streets of Houston before Donovan picked him up and dragged him back to the penthouse. For someone with no money, no identity and no friends, being homeless could be deadly.
The bar was just half a block away.
If he
ran, he could be inside before the traffic light at the corner changed. He bent, coiled to spring from his position, when Donovan’s black Lincoln slid around the corner and, like a shark hunting for prey, cruised toward him.
With a quick gasp he straightened back against the wall and disappeared into the shadows.
The car slowed, pulled to the curb, and stopped in front of the bar.
Sammi exhaled. Three breaths later the passenger door opened. Donovan’s muscle Moretti pried his massive body from the seat then disappeared inside the nightclub. Moretti would be getting some odd stares, but it wouldn’t be the first time the big goon had cruised gay bars looking for boys for his boss. That was how he’d found Sammi.
Edging closer to the corner of the house, Sammi dared to peek around it. Moretti had been in there for several minutes. Probably scanning the place. Maybe even barging in on the back rooms to see if Sammi was giving some pick-up head or a hand job.
Fifteen minutes later, and Moretti would have caught Sammi.
Moretti’s timing sucked tonight.
The club’s door opened and Moretti exited. With a shake of his cue ball head, he wedged himself back in the car and slammed the door shut. The Town Car pulled away from the curb and headed toward Sammi, hidden in the shadows. Holding his breath, terrified he’d give away his hiding place, he slipped the small folding knife from his pocket and flipped it open. He’d rather die than go back to Donovan.
His only hope for safety lay inside the bar. Once there, he’d open his mind, find a willing partner, and get off the streets for the night.
The car stopped at the light. Sammi let out a slow breath. The light changed and the traffic began moving. With another four deep breaths, he watched as the Town Car disappeared in the heavy traffic of Montrose. He closed the knife with a click and shoved it back into his jeans.
Sammi broke from the shadows and raced to the bar’s entry.
* * * *
Mitchell sat at the bar and nursed his scotch. All around him, music pulsed and men moved in and out of the shadows. The dance floor seethed with bodies. Couples danced, some with tentative touches and gentle caresses, while others gyrated, their hips in sync with the rhythm of the pounding bass. Still, some danced alone, feeling the freedom of movement and no necessity for a partner or a shirt.
What the hell am I doing here?
He wasn’t going to pick up anyone. Not tonight. Not any night. He’d sworn off the fast life.
Who was he kidding? He was the king of denial.
Crown me.
Mitchell scanned the men.
Even if he saw someone he liked, and he hadn’t in a very long time, he wouldn’t break his rule and take anyone home. It wasn’t safe. There was no telling whom he might bring to his house. Time was he only worried about serial killers, but these days, he had to deal with gay bashers.
Besides, he really hated that awkward parting in the morning. Should he serve breakfast or just put the guy out? A kiss goodbye, or lie and tell him he’d call?
A quick blow job in the back rooms of the bar would avoid all that trouble.
If he was looking. And he wasn’t.
His gaze raked over several younger men standing at the end of the bar. Tight leather snugged over tight asses, dark liner around their hungry eyes.
He liked younger, but tonight there wasn’t a flicker of arousal from between his legs. Not even half-mast, much less fully flying the colors. What was wrong with him? There were some very handsome men here tonight and if he put forth the effort, he could pick up one of them and head to the back.
His heart and soul just couldn’t stand another empty fuck.
Sammi leaned against the wall of the bar and closed his eyes. Opening his mind, he listened. The music faded away and indistinct voices floated in blackness, pieces of soft conversations, snips of laughter, a few suggestive words—all faint whispers in the night. All he had to do was pick one out, focus on it, and make his move.
“What the hell am I doing here?”
Sammi jumped as the words shouted in his mind. His eyes flew open and Sammi scanned the darkened room for the man who’d thought them. Like the wicked, sharp blade of his knife, the voice had sliced through all the chatter as if it were butter, set his body quivering and brought his cock to rigid attention.
“I’m better off alone.”
With minimal effort, he locked onto a man sitting at the bar. It had never been that easy before. Usually, he had to strain out the chatter, using his mind like a sieve. Sammi’s heart hammered at the chance he’d found him.
The one the old crazy woman Lizzy had told him about when he’d lived under the overpass with a few other homeless people. Sammi had told her of his secret talent and she’d nodded, as if she understood. “Never you mind, child. You’ll find him. And he’ll hear you and you’ll hear him. When you do, your souls will bond.”
His soul bond.
He’d laughed at her. In his entire life, he’d never found anyone who heard his thoughts. No one he’d even consider creating a bond with, a connection so deep they would feel it in their souls, like Lizzy had said as she’d poked her bony finger into Sammi’s chest.
This man would be like the others. Sammi would hear his thoughts, then talk him into taking him home and off the streets. Nothing more.
Because after all this time and everything that had happened to Sammi, he no longer believed in finding his soul bond. Lizzy had just been a crazy old lady, too long off her meds.
He shook his head, took a deep breath to quell his growing excitement, and stared across the dark club at the man whose voice had risen above all the others, pushing them into nothing more than background noise, mere static on the constant radio playing in Sammi’s head.
Long legs clad in faded blue jeans. A white T-shirt peeked from under a brown leather jacket. Loafers, no socks. Dark wavy hair, broad shoulders. Early thirties.
Sammi drew closer, weaving in and out of the gyrating dancers as he crossed the dance floor. Unable, unwilling, to take his eyes off his mark.
A young man slid onto the chair next to Mitchell. Male musk enveloped him as if the guy were shooting off pheromones meant for him alone. Nice.
The bartender walked over. “What can I get you?”
“I’ll have what he’s drinking and put it on his tab.” A soft, yet damned sexy, voice filled Mitchell’s ears, shot through his body, and landed in his cock.
He turned to look at guy who’d given him an instant hard-on.
The bartender reached for a glass. “That okay?”
“Yeah. It’s fine.” Mitchell didn’t take his eyes off the stranger.
The young man faced him, pushed the long forelock of straight dark hair from his eyes, and their gazes locked. As if he’d leaned too far over the top rail of a skyscraper, Mitchell plummeted into endless dark eyes. Aware of the sudden pounding of his heart and the tightness of his jeans, he swallowed, afraid to speak. Afraid he’d chase away this remarkable creature.
He was the sweetest thing Mitchell had seen in a long time.
“You think I’m the best thing you’ve seen in a while.” He offered a soft smile and placed his hand on Mitchell’s thigh. The gentle touch seared him and he caught fire.
“Yeah.” Mitchell gave a grunt as his gaze raked over the dude’s body. Young, maybe mid-twenties, lean but muscled. Despite the dead-sexy mop of bangs that fell over his face, his hair was cut short on the sides and back. What did Mitchell’s rules have to say about this?
Damn, he couldn’t recall a single one, but he knew he’d be breaking most of them before the sun rose. “What else am I thinking?”
“That you want to break all your rules with me.”
Mitchell’s foot slipped on the rung. Almost falling off the chair, he reached for the edge of the bar to hold himself upright. How the hell did this guy know what he was thinking? Was this some kind of parlor trick?
“Look, I don’t know what game you’re playing, but…” Mitchell grow
led, his body tensing along with his fists.
“No game.” He shook his head and the bangs swayed, giving Mitchell a peek at those eyes again. “Are you always such a hard ass?” A touch of a smile teased the corners of the man’s lips.
Placing his knees between Mitchell’s, he leaned closer. He laid his smaller hand over Mitchell’s tight fist, and it relaxed beneath the touch like butter on a summer day. The guy’s other hand slid along Mitchell’s thigh, trailing fire.
Stopping where thigh met hip, he glanced down between Mitchell’s legs. “This is the only thing that should be hard.” His thumb brushed over the lump in Mitchell’s too-tight jeans.
Mitchell’s cock twitched in happy greeting to the hand that touched it and his balls pulled in so tightly he thought they’d disappear. Not in a bad way. But in a way that said oh yeah, this would be a fuck he’d never forget. A fuck he wanted more than anything on earth. More than his next breath. And he wanted it right now.
“I know you want me. You know it’s going to be good. Let’s go to your place.” That voice sent delighted shivers down Mitchell’s spine. Damn, he was fucking helpless against it.
“What’s your name?” He didn’t know what else to say.
“Sammi, with an ‘I’. What’s yours?”
“Mitchell.”
Sammi purred as he slid off the chair and into the space directly in front of Mitchell. Mitchell stood, rising a head taller than Sammi. Gazing down into liquid brown eyes, Mitchell grabbed the young man’s narrow hips, pulled him to his body, and ground his hard-on against Sammi’s belly.
“Well, Mitchell, I think we’re on the same wavelength.” Sammi tilted his head back and offered his lips.
“Fuck yes.” Mitchell leaned down, took the kiss and broke his rule about not kissing strange men he met at bars. Soft at first, then as Sammi flicked his tongue against Mitchell’s lips to ask for admittance, Mitchell opened to him. They deepened the kiss.
Damn, Sammi was sinfully delicious, a blend of vanilla and sugar cookies with a chocolate aftertaste. What would his skin taste like? Or his cock? A firestorm erupted inside Mitchell. He didn’t want to wait until he got Sammi home to find out. He’d do him against the bar right now if he could.
