Dzintra Sullivan
Submerge
Apalala Clan Novel Book Three
Dzintra Sullivan
Copyright 2019 Dzintra Sullivan
All Rights Reserved
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to real events, real people, and real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the Author’s imagination and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, organizations or places are entirely coincidental.
All rights are reserved. This book is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the express written permission of the author. All songs, song titles, and lyrics contained in this book are the property of the respective songwriters and copyright holders.
ISBN13: 987-0-6487193-0-4
ISBN10: 0-6487193-0-8
Editing by Swish Design & Editing
Formatting by Swish Design & Editing
Cover design by Soxsational Cover Art
Cover Image Copyright 2019
Azmarah, this book is for you, baby girl.
May your life be filled with dreams that become reality.
You have magic in your soul, let it free, my darling, and fly high.
The journey of writing a book, while maybe seem a solo trip, is actually a product of many hands. I owe a huge thank you to my amazing cover designer, Tracey ‘Soxie’ Weston, from Soxsational Covers. Also, to the careful hands of my word guru and editor, Kay Osborn, from Swish Design and Editing.
My PA Tracy Ehlers, for whom without her I don’t think I would still be going. Her proverbial kick up my ass when I doubt myself keeps me going every time. Thank you, Tracy.
Much love and thanks to my beta readers, my readers group and of course you, my readers. I am blessed to do what I do, and I don’t for a minute take it for granted.
Lastly, thank you to my friends and family for giving me the time to write and putting up with my absence when deadlines are looming.
To truly love, one must fully submerge.
After her parents’ death, Elyse was forced to grow up on the streets. She’s a fighter, a battler, a ferocious warrior.
Ladon is the third eldest of the dragon brothers. His skills are legendary, and he’s undefeated on the battlefield.
Sudden flashbacks of stolen memories thrust Elyse into a nail-biting battle for her own life.
When all isn’t as it appears, and secrets are exposed, Ladon and Elyse are forced to bare their souls to each other in order for them both to survive.
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Blurb
Table of Contents
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
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Connect With Me Online
About the Author – Dzintra Sullivan
“I always knew you were a tosser, but are you sure you can handle wood that big?” Attor smirked as his brother began to rotate his shoulders in preparation.
“Jealousy is a curse, Tor.” Jo threw the comment over his shoulder as he cricked his neck from side to side. “Besides, I handle bigger every day.”
“Says the man in a skirt.” Tor laughed and looked to Ladon for backup. Ladon was standing to the left and shrugged with disinterest.
“It’s a fucking kilt, Tor, a cultural garb that I happen to enjoy. Lets the breeze flow through my manly forest.” A wiggle of Jo’s eyebrows made his brother’s eyes widen.
Ladon’s head turned slowly. “For all that is scaly, please don’t tell me you’re naked under that?” Ladon waited with a partial grimace for what his brother’s response would be.
“No use going in half-cocked, Ladon. I’m fully immersed in this cultural experience.”
Ladon shook his head. “I’m going over there,” he pointed to a patch of freshly mowed lawn near the grandstand. “I’ll be the one pretending he doesn’t know you.”
Ladon found a shaded corner to lower his large frame and relax. At six foot five and with a chest as wide as a truck cabin, Ladon always attracted attention wherever he went. He was wearing a pair of dark blue jeans and a shirt the color of a rusted metal car frame. Payton had convinced him it brought out the icy blue of his eyes, but he wasn’t so sure. He had drawn the line at a tie and left the top few buttons undone, allowing the light spattering of chest hair peeking out the top. Ladon was the second most inked dragon of all the brothers. No one beat Jo who was almost fully engulfed in ink, but Ladon certainly ran a very proud second. Ladon’s entire back was a set of dragon wings, the detailed scales colored with iridescent hues of blues and greens flowing out and wrapping around his arms right down to his knuckles. Ladon had rolled up the long sleeves on his rust-colored shirt, letting some of his ink be seen.
He sat on one hip with his other leg bent up to where he rested his elbow. As he looked out onto the large field where hundreds of men and women lined up ready to toss a large wooden pole in some ancient display of strength, Ladon didn’t understand how tossing a piece of wood would save your life in a battle. Unless your opponent was trying to catch said pole, then maybe, he thought. He preferred his Katars—it was a weapon that never failed him on the battlefield.
One by one, the competitors took to the start line carefully lifting the one-hundred-and-eighty-pound stick, using the weight as they tipped it forward, running and flipping it at the last moment complete with a guttural grunt of maximum effort. The crowd would cheer and yell with pride at how far each one of them launched the stick.
Each time, Ladon rolled his eyes regretting letting Attor and Jo drag him along. He’d been happy, settled on his sofa playing the favorite online game World of Warcraft. It had been a year since they were forced to relocate from Tokyo. Volos, in true clan leader form, had found hundreds of caves along the North Sea coastline of Scotland. V found the exact one they needed—it wasn’t visited by tourists, yet allowed them to transcend deep into mother earth’s belly of stone.
The cave was immense with more than enough tendrils coming off the main opening for all of the clan to be able to claim their own space where they could continue raising the next generation of dragons.
When Tor had come thumping into his room, claiming by order of V that he needed to get some fresh air, Ladon had shaken his head firmly. The factor that turned his shake to a nod was in the shape of a small woman named Payton. Payton was V’s mate, and Ladon had no ability to re
fuse her requests. Payton was the glue that kept them all together as brothers. Her kind words and soft smiles never failed to make the hardest of dragons crumble and do as they were told. He knew when Pay followed Tor in, his resistance was futile. She had his shirt and jeans already with her, ironed and ready to go.
Fast forward two hours, and here he sat, waiting for his half-naked brother to take his place amongst the humans and toss a stick to prove him a worthy and strong warrior.
“Can we sit with you?”
Ladon looked up at three young ladies standing a few feet away from him. They all stared with a hopeful glimmer in their eyes. Ladon shrugged, he didn’t own the grass, why ask him where they could sit? he thought to himself.
Giggling, the young ladies sat close enough to him that he could smell they had just come from the bar. He rolled his eyes, young and drunk, this possibly wasn’t a good idea after all.
“What’s your name?” the dark-haired one trilled.
“Eugoda,” Ladon replied. “Eugoda Be’kidinmie.”
“Eugoda?” The blonde giggled. “Sounds exotic. I like it.”
Ladon loved the ladies. But young and drunk ladies? Not his thing. “Excuse me, ladies, enjoy your afternoon.” He stood, much to the cries of disapproval from the three females. He smiled and made a hasty retreat.
Ladon rested his hands on the white fence lining the edge of the field. His brother was taking his place. He watched with bated breath as Jo stood for a few seconds, his dark blue plaid kilt was hanging low on his hips. He had taken off his shirt, letting his incredibly detailed tattoos be on display for all to see.
“Please stay covered,” Ladon muttered to himself as Jo bent down and picked up the large wooden pole, bouncing it on his shoulder as he’d seen the others do. Jo took in a big breath, and with the exhale, Jo tipped the caber forward and ran with the moving weight. Just as he got to the line, Jo bent slightly, and with one massive upward thrust, he flipped the pole as hard as he could.
A loud collective gasp from the bystanders followed by dead silence confirmed Ladon’s worst fears had indeed come true. On the upward thrust, Jo’s kilt had caught on the wood and ripped from his body, leaving him standing there completely naked as his kilt went flying high into the air along with the caber.
Ladon groaned painfully as he watched the marshals scramble around, trying to find something to cover his brother. Jo was standing there proud as punch, his junk on show for all of Aberdeen to take in. The dragon brothers were well-endowed by human standards, but even V wouldn’t be happy with it being public knowledge.
He wanted nothing more than to walk away, but the blood of the dragon brothers ran thicker than honey. Ladon turned and started to walk toward where his two brothers were currently standing. With every heavy thud of his boots, he cursed not being able to say no to Payton.
Elyse Douglas was wiping up the last of the glasses and was looking forward to the bar closing. It had been a busy Saturday night, and her feet were killing her. With the caber toss in town, Belmont Street had been the place to celebrate success or drink away your failures.
“Doug, hurry up, I want to close in five.” Elyse looked up to her nickname. She had been happy not to use her real name at work. Men and copious amounts of alcohol tended to make them very handsy.
“I’m done,” she replied as she placed the last glass away, and with one final wipe of the bar, she placed her cloth in the sink. Taking off her employee lanyard and hanging it out the back, Elyse was eager to get home and catch up with her buds online.
“See you tomorrow, kid,” her boss said as she walked past him. He was rounded in the middle and thinning on top, but he’d been more of a father to her in the past ten years than, well, her own father. Bill had found her scrounging for food in the dumpster out the back ten years ago when she was fourteen and doing her best to survive on the streets. Her parents had been killed in an accident when she was nine, and she was on the run from the authorities who wanted to put her in a foster home. Bill had thought she was a boy until she’d come out from the bathroom—showered, changed, and sporting a huge mane of long red curls. Her attitude was as ferocious as the deep blood red of her hair.
It had taken Bill a long time to gain her trust, and now she thought of him as her pseudo father. He gave her a job washing dishes and scrubbing floors in his bar, letting her stay in the small spare bedroom upstairs instead of her wages. When she turned eighteen and had shown interest in the bar and its workings, he put her through a bartending course. The smile of pride as she came runner-up in last year’s Stir-It-Up competition was something she wouldn’t forget for a long time. This was her year. She was going to be the best cocktail bartender in the UK—no runner-up this time.
“Night, Bill.” Elyse no longer lived in a small bedroom above the bar. She moved out a few years ago and now had a one-bedroom unit. The place didn’t have a great view. It wasn’t flashy or brand new. What it lacked on the glamorous scale, it more than made up for with the fact it was all hers. Bill had helped her get a loan and slowly, one payment at a time, this small sanctuary was becoming hers.
The night was dark, and if she didn’t know these streets like the back of her hand, it would be easy to let your imagination run away. Seeing a dark shadow huddled in the corner as she came up on the bridge she walked under every night, the shadow’s hooded head lifted to look at her as her boot steps got closer.
“Charlie? It’s Doug, how are you?” Her voice was soft and non-threatening.
The shadow broke out into a coughing fit as it struggled to breathe through the cold Aberdeen night. “Doug,” the male voice was as raspy and uneven as broken glass. “Nice to see you, love.”
Elyse sat next to him, placing her hand around his shoulders as she hugged him firmly. Ignoring the fact he smelled like last week’s garbage, she had been there and done that, so she would never judge. “You’re as blind as a bat, Charlie. But I am always happy to see you. You hungry?” She reached into her satchel and pulled out a foot-long meat roll she had made before leaving work.
“You eat it, love.” He coughed violently again. “Too skinny.”
Elyse grinned. “And you’re not? Here, take it.” Placing the roll on the homeless man’s lap, she continued, “Will make me happy to know you have a full belly this cold night.” She watched Charlie’s head drop to smell the freshly made roll. His belly rumbled loud enough for Elyse to hear it clearly. “See, even your stomach agrees with me.”
“It does smell good.”
“As it should. The kitchen had roast beef on the special’s board tonight. That’s got extra gravy, so be careful eating it.” She gave him another squeeze around his shoulders and got up. “You need to see a doctor about that cough, too, Charlie.”
Charlie waved her concerns off as he started to unwrap the roll. “You’re too good to me, love.”
“Stay warm, Charlie,” Elyse said as she turned and continued on her way home.
Turning the key to hear the click, she opened the door to her apartment. Her sea of tranquility came out to greet her. Bending down, she ran her fingers through the soft, black fur of her cat. “Quil, I’ve missed you, bud.” The loud purr Quil returned to her said he had missed her as much. The cat had followed her home one night—he stayed. He brought her tranquility with his rhythmic purring, so she called him Quil. What could she say, she’s a soft touch with the needy. “Come on, I’ve got you some food, too.” She walked in letting her black beast follow her as she made a beeline for the kitchen. Opening the fridge, she grabbed a bottle of water, placed it on the bench as she bent to grab Quil’s bowl.
“Quil…” She chuckled as he wound in and out of her legs. “You’re going to make me fall, you crazy ball of fluff.” Using her foot, she gently pushed him to the side. Her titter continued as she performed a feat so extraordinary, she could have made it in the circus. Balancing on one foot, the other holding back her demanding beast, her body rocked as she tried to scoop the food into his bowl. To
pping it with some dry biscuits, she placed it on the ground in front of him.
Elyse leaned back on the bench as she cracked open her water bottle. Taking a big swig, she watched her favorite animal in the world settle down in front of his bowl, curling his tail around his legs and enjoying what she’d given him. She knew what it felt like to go hungry, she knew how it felt not to have eaten in days. The painful rumble of an empty belly was the only thing that reminded you that you were still alive.
Lifting her eyes, she looked to her simple furniture. A cream-colored sofa against the wall with a small coffee table in front of it. A dated television was sitting on a small, wooden stand opposite the sofa. To the left, was a table with two chairs—her morning seat to enjoy some porridge and water. Elyse drank only water—it was all you needed to survive. Besides, after working in a bar, she saw what alcohol did first hand, and that wasn’t for her.
Behind the door on the back wall was her small bedroom filled with only a single bed and a chest of drawers for her clothes. Finishing off with a basic bathroom, and the tour of her apartment was over in five-point three seconds. It might not be much, but it was hers, and she would fight to the death to keep it safe.
Satisfied Quil was looked after, she took her water, sat on the sofa, and switched on her television. Opening the laptop, it was technically the bar’s and belonged to Bill, but he let her bring it home so she could play her favorite online game Warcraft.
As the site loaded, Quil jumped up and settled next to her. His head on her hip as he began the purr of tranquility.
“Let’s see whose butt I can kick tonight, Quil.”
V stood there silently, his mouth opened as if he wanted to say something, yet nothing came out.
“The whole kilt?” Payton asked as she tried unsuccessfully to hide a chuckle behind strained lips.
Submerge (Apalala Clan Book 3) Page 1