An imprisoned heart finds escape in forbidden love.
No pride. No privacy. No hope.
Academic John Gilliam thought being caught embracing another man was the worst that could happen. Until he agrees to "treatment" at an asylum, where a vicious attack leaves him shaken and afraid.
But having all means of writing or reading taken from him... That is a serious threat to his sanity. Then a moment of kindness from an asylum attendant begins to restore his dignity.
Sam Tully feels sorry for the patient everyone calls "the professor", but with a back injury that cost him his job on the docks--and without the education that would have bettered his position--he tries to keep his head down, and a tight lid on his attraction to men.
As John prays for freedom, he grows closer to the gentle, innately intelligent Tully. In spite of themselves, forbidden attraction leads to touches, kisses, and more. But there's something other than curative treatments going on at the asylum. When John and Tully uncover a heinous conspiracy, their very lives are in danger.
Warning: Contains heinous crimes and frightening treatments--oh, and some sweet and loving sexy times between two healthy, not-crazy men.
Excerpt:
"Thank God," John said. "I'd nearly given up on you returning."
His skin prickled under the attendant's gaze as he unpacked his journal and blessed, blessed pen in its well-used case. Being watched while he practically cooed over the leather-bound book reminded him of his debased state, but then, everything in this place seemed intended to humiliate, with no moment of privacy and hardly any corner of one's mind not exposed to prodding and pushing.
Bringing the leather journal to his nose, he took a long whiff, then looked up at Mr. Tully. "Thank you."
"You're welcome, sir. You must really love to write. I was never much of a hand at it myself."
John owed the attendant something for his help, but all he had to offer was conversation. "Were you uninterested in learning?"
"I got by in school, and after that I worked on the docks like my dad."
John wasn't surprised. "A docker's son?"
"He ended up a stevedore," Tully corrected. He put the lamp on the floor. The light cast strong shadows over the dark and looming figure, yet his sinister appearance didn't frighten John, at least not so much as to shrink away.
"There's a difference?" John asked.
"Stevedores stow the cargo on board the ships, and that takes skill. The ship owners hire 'em, not the dock companies." Tully spoke with obvious pride.
"What brought you here instead? I couldn't imagine this place is more pleasant than laboring in the fresh, open air."
The big fellow laughed, a pleasant rumbling that went right through John. "I don't know about fresh. The wharf stinks of fish and refuse and worse things." He shrugged. "The pay was better, it's true. But I hurt my back and had to take time off to heal. Couldn't lift the heavier crates and barrels after that, and there were plenty of younger, stronger men lined up for my job."
"Well, you're surely fit enough to look after a few patients. I imagine most of us don't weigh as much as a barrel of grain."
"No, sir." A smile lingered on the wide, round face.
A sweet, gentle smile, John realized and felt a pitiful ache in his heart. He'd felt so little human connection in the months since he'd been locked up that any crumb of kindness was a feast.
No pride. No privacy. No hope.
Academic John Gilliam thought being caught embracing another man was the worst that could happen. Until he agrees to "treatment" at an asylum, where a vicious attack leaves him shaken and afraid.
But having all means of writing or reading taken from him... That is a serious threat to his sanity. Then a moment of kindness from an asylum attendant begins to restore his dignity.
Sam Tully feels sorry for the patient everyone calls "the professor", but with a back injury that cost him his job on the docks--and without the education that would have bettered his position--he tries to keep his head down, and a tight lid on his attraction to men.
As John prays for freedom, he grows closer to the gentle, innately intelligent Tully. In spite of themselves, forbidden attraction leads to touches, kisses, and more. But there's something other than curative treatments going on at the asylum. When John and Tully uncover a heinous conspiracy, their very lives are in danger.
Warning: Contains heinous crimes and frightening treatments--oh, and some sweet and loving sexy times between two healthy, not-crazy men.
Excerpt:
"Thank God," John said. "I'd nearly given up on you returning."
His skin prickled under the attendant's gaze as he unpacked his journal and blessed, blessed pen in its well-used case. Being watched while he practically cooed over the leather-bound book reminded him of his debased state, but then, everything in this place seemed intended to humiliate, with no moment of privacy and hardly any corner of one's mind not exposed to prodding and pushing.
Bringing the leather journal to his nose, he took a long whiff, then looked up at Mr. Tully. "Thank you."
"You're welcome, sir. You must really love to write. I was never much of a hand at it myself."
John owed the attendant something for his help, but all he had to offer was conversation. "Were you uninterested in learning?"
"I got by in school, and after that I worked on the docks like my dad."
John wasn't surprised. "A docker's son?"
"He ended up a stevedore," Tully corrected. He put the lamp on the floor. The light cast strong shadows over the dark and looming figure, yet his sinister appearance didn't frighten John, at least not so much as to shrink away.
"There's a difference?" John asked.
"Stevedores stow the cargo on board the ships, and that takes skill. The ship owners hire 'em, not the dock companies." Tully spoke with obvious pride.
"What brought you here instead? I couldn't imagine this place is more pleasant than laboring in the fresh, open air."
The big fellow laughed, a pleasant rumbling that went right through John. "I don't know about fresh. The wharf stinks of fish and refuse and worse things." He shrugged. "The pay was better, it's true. But I hurt my back and had to take time off to heal. Couldn't lift the heavier crates and barrels after that, and there were plenty of younger, stronger men lined up for my job."
"Well, you're surely fit enough to look after a few patients. I imagine most of us don't weigh as much as a barrel of grain."
"No, sir." A smile lingered on the wide, round face.
A sweet, gentle smile, John realized and felt a pitiful ache in his heart. He'd felt so little human connection in the months since he'd been locked up that any crumb of kindness was a feast.
