Lost In The Echo

Cover Art & Image by Elena Giorgi
Title: Lost in the Echo
Genre: M/M Thriller
Publisher: Goodreads M/M Group

Format: found here
Offer: Free

Title: Lost in the Echo (Anthology Release)
Genre: M/M Thriller
Publisher: Goodreads M/M Group
Format found: Here

"Three days. Three questions. Three answers."

Kidnapped, blindfolded, and bound to a bed, running away isn't an option any more for Will Chambers. Despite being a linguistic tutor and having every conversational tool at his disposal, all Will wanted to do was fade into the background, become lost in the echo of wild heath and harbour. But now someone wants to put his body and mind on full display, force Will to find his voice -- answer three questions, over three days.

All Will has to do is provide three... simple... answers.


That constant creak, creak-creak came again. Will lay there on his back, licking across dry lips as he tried to shuffle through images that explained the noise. Again, just that constant creak, creak-creak, like an unhinged door pushed gently by a breeze. A draft shifted his hair against his face, then swept down his chest, over his abs, his legs― his feet, all to sweep back up. It eased the sweat he could feel lining his body and brow, and helped focus how muggy his mind felt. A gentle lapping added a soft beat to the breeze, and a shift of sheet came at Will’s side. Somewhere deep down it made perfect sense to him that the cool sheet covering him would ruffle if a fan was placed close to the bed, but the images didn’t quite connect yet, nothing connected yet but the heavy tiredness still trying to pull him down. The comfortable feel of the bed beneath his body offered a place to ground reality, but his arms were held wide, slightly raised, almost as if he was caught mid-fall into some strange, screwed-up dream, the likes of which he hadn’t tasted since his college days and the rare few lines of coke.

Dark. This dream was dark. Eyelashes brushed against a silk that was pulled tight against his eyes, making his head hurt from the crushing pressure of the knot caught between pillows and skull. The need was there to rub fingers against the ache, but his hands refused, seeming to want to keep his arms held wide open, welcoming whatever sacrifice he was being offered for. The shift of sheet would brush against his nakedness, and part of him wanted to laugh, maybe cry out at why he’d be naked mid-run, but his throat was too dry, and a run of choking was all he could manage.

That soft creak, creak-creak came to a stop, forcing Will to control his coughing and tilt his ear towards the sound, trying to gauge, to understand why the noise would react to his. But then the creak, creak-creak started again, just at the foot of the bed, off to the left, and it added to the gentle sweep of the fan, the soft lap of the sheet.

A groan, Will relaxed his body completely, giving in to the sounds, how it sang a tripped-out lullaby that pushed him back into the land of dark dreams and naked bodies.

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