A chance to heal … #MMRomance #ParanormalRomance #PrideMonth #MFRWHooks

Today is the last day of June, which means it’s the final day of my Pride Month celebration. So for my MFRW Book Hooks post, I thought I’d give you one last LGBTQ excerpt. This one is from my paranormal erotic romance Necessary Madness.

Remember, every comment on this post counts as an entry in my Pride Month give away, for bookstore gift vouchers and free books.

Today’s your last chance!

Blurb

Nineteen year old Kyle sees visions of disasters, visions that tear his world apart. Everyone assumes that he is schizophrenic, but Rob, the cop who picks him up off the street, knows better. Rob's own experience has taught him that psychic powers are real, and potentially devastating.

Since his telepathic sister's brutal murder, Rob wants nothing to do with "gifted" individuals like Kyle. Yet he can't deny his attraction to the beautiful, tortured young man -- an attraction that appears to be mutual. When a brilliant, sadistic practitioner of the black arts lures Kyle into his clutches, Rob faces the possibility that once again he may lose the person he loves most to the forces of darkness.

The Hook

Kyle’s throat was sore. His head ached. His whole body felt heavy, as though someone had encased him in concrete.

For now, though, his mind was clear, free of any disturbing images. He swallowed the sour taste in his mouth, took a deep breath and opened his eyes.

He was there. The cop who’d picked him up. He was sitting by the side of the hospital bed, watching Kyle, turning his blue cap around and around in his blunt-fingered hands.

Everything about the man screamed ‘strength’. He wasn’t that big, but he looked like solid muscle. His shoulders and upper arms strained against his starched indigo uniform whenever he moved. His dense thighs had a similar effect on his trousers.

His face was strong, too. Kyle remembered the square jaw, but he hadn’t noticed the determined mouth. No one was going to mess with this guy. On the other hand, the eyes were a clear, open blue and the shallow creases on either side of his nose suggested that the man laughed easily. There were a few lines on his forehead, too. Kyle guessed he was in his early thirties.

The officer leant forward in his chair. “Hey, you’re awake!” The thin lips curled into a warm smile.

Kyle gave him a weak grin. “Yeah. Sort of. I’m in the hospital?”

“St. Vincent’s. You’ve been here for the past two days.”

“What happened?”

“You passed out. Probably from loss of blood. That ulcer of yours was pretty serious. They did an emergency endoscopy and cauterisation. The doctor told me, another few weeks on the street and it would have perforated. You’re a lucky man. You could have died.”

Kyle closed his eyes, weary. He recalled his last terrible vision, dimly, like a bad dream. “Maybe that would have been better,” he murmured.

“What?”

“Oh, um, never mind. Thanks, Officer— ”

“Murphy. Sergeant Rob Murphy.”

“Thank you, Sergeant Murphy.” Kyle hiked himself up on the pillows, not wanting the macho cop to see him prostrate and helpless. “When can I leave?”

“That’s up to the doctor. Now that you’re back among the living, though, I’ve got to get some information for my report.”

Kyle stopped smiling. “What kind of information?”

The cop gave a casual shrug, as though trying to put Kyle at ease. “Well, we can start with your name. I assume that it’s not John Doe.”

“Kyle McLaughlin.”

“Date of birth?”

“November twenty-first, nineteen eighty-nine. I’ll be twenty next weekend.”

“Address?”

“Uh…I’m sort of between places at the moment.” Kyle cursed his weakness. All he wanted was to hide.

“Hmm.” The cop grinned, apparently trying to reassure him. “What was your last address?”

Kyle swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. “Worcester State Hospital. Acute ward.”

“I see.” The sergeant nodded quietly and wrote something in his notebook. Kyle expected a why as the next question. Then he remembered. This guy had seen him in the grip of his curse. He wouldn’t need an explanation.

“Where will you go when you’re released from here?”

Exhaustion settled on Kyle like a leaden blanket. He sank back into the pillows. “What does it matter?”

Murphy chuckled. “Well, I’d hate to have to come and round you up again the next time we do a sweep.” Then it seemed that he really saw Kyle, saw his complete lack of hope. He placed his hand on Kyle’s forearm, careful not to disrupt the IV drip. His eyes were like a summer sky. “Look, I can see you’re in pain, and I don’t just mean from the ulcer. I’d like to help, if I can.”

Delicious heat blossomed in the bare skin under the older man’s palm. Unshed tears made Kyle’s chest hurt. It has been so long since someone had touched him with any sort of tenderness or concern. “No one can help me,” he said. “Even the shrinks can’t make the pictures go away.”

“How long have you been having these—hallucinations?”

“Since I turned thirteen. The older I get, the worse they become.” Tears welled up, to his extreme embarrassment. He turned away, trying to hide them from his inquisitor. A gentle hand cupped his chin, bringing him back to meet Murphy’s sympathetic gaze. “I don’t know how much longer I can stand it.”

“You’re schizophrenic?”

“That’s the current diagnosis. But I don’t think so. The usual drugs don’t work. They deaden my emotions, but they don’t kill the visions. And when I’m not having a spell, I’m more or less sane.” He stopped, familiar guilt overwhelming him. Sane enough to search the papers, looking for, and eventually finding, accounts of the disasters his dreams prefigured. Disasters he could see but not prevent.

Kyle scanned Murphy’s face, trying to read his expression. Some struggle was going on inside the man. His lips were set in a grim line and his brows knotted into a scowl, but his eyes shone with excitement. He still clasped Kyle’s arm, his fingers tense now, digging into the flesh. Kyle placed his own pale hand on top of Murphy’s in a gesture of reassurance. The policeman started as if he’d been burnt.

Kyle felt the shock too, electricity sizzling between them. Murphy snatched his hand away, staring down at his shiny leather boots. When he looked back at Kyle, he seemed to have made a decision.

“I might not be able to do anything to help with your hallucinations, but I can give you a safe place to stay, at least until you recover.”

“I don’t know…” Kyle began. He didn’t want to get mixed up with this cop. The signals were too strong. The man’s sheer physicality unbalanced him. Already, he felt that queasy sensation that presaged his visions. Powerful emotion often triggered his crises.

“No arguments. I live alone. I’ve got plenty of room in my apartment.” The quiet authority in Murphy’s voice sent a delicious thrill up Kyle’s spine. He shivered. Murphy’s tone softened. “Seriously, Kyle, I don’t want to see you back on the streets. Stay at my place for a few days, a week. Give yourself a chance to heal.” 

Buy Links 

Pride Publishing: https://www.pride-publishing.com/index.php?route=product/product&product_id=655

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Necessary-Madness-Lisabet-Sarai-ebook/dp/B003XT5QYA/

Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4fVZjWpvJEo

Add on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/8176644-necessary-madness

Be sure to visit the other authors participating in today’s Book Hooks blog hop!

 

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