New Release from Ally Blue

Title: Forgotten Song
Genre: Contemporary, Non-traditional sexualities
Author: Ally Blue
Author URL: http://www.allyblue.com/
Release date: "soon"
Publisher: Loose Id
Publisher URL: http://www.loose-id.com/

**Excerpt**

The sun was in my eyes when I woke the next morning. I pulled the pillow over my head and tried to remember why the hell I was on the floor. Then I heard the toilet flush, and everything came back. I sat up just as the bathroom door opened.

"Hi," I said as Eric shuffled back to the bed and plopped down. "How are you feeling?"

He shrugged. "Okay, I guess. Little bit of a headache, but it’s not too bad. I look like I got hit by a train though."

I grinned. He did look banged up. A big, ugly black and purple bruise spread from under the bandage on the left side of his forehead to cover part of his cheek, and his eye was swollen. The blood on the bandage had dried to a deep reddish brown.

"That is a nasty bruise, isn’t it? But at least the cut’s stopped bleeding."

He nodded. "Yeah. Hey, Ben, would it be okay if I use your shower?"

"Oh, sure, there’s clean towels in there on the shelf."

"Thanks." He stood and stretched and my brain promptly stopped working. Jesus, his body was perfect.

Okay, nearly perfect.

I got a better look at the scars this time, and my mouth went dry. A long, thin pink line, obviously from some kind of surgery, started just under his ribs and ran down the middle of his abdomen until it disappeared under the edge of his underwear. Several small round scars dotted his belly, and one larger than the rest puckered the skin on one side of his ribcage. But the one that caught the eye cut a long, wide, jagged path halfway across his stomach. I couldn’t even imagine what could’ve made a scar like that, or the amount of pain that must’ve gone with it.

"Did you get a good enough look?"

Eric’s voice dripped with anger, and I realized I was staring. "Shit, I’m sorry."

"Yeah, well. Not too pretty, are they?"

I looked up at his face and caught a glimpse of a hurt so deep that it made me ache to see it. Then the tough-guy mask was back in place and the pain was gone like it had never been there. I knew what I’d seen, though, and I swore to myself right then to help him heal whatever wounds he still had.

"What happened?" I didn’t really expect an answer, but I had to ask. He sat staring at the floor for a while, twisting his fingers together.

"Got jumped by five guys," he said finally. "The big scar there is where one of them cut me open with a butcher knife. Most of the rest are from surgeries and stuff. I was in the hospital for six weeks. That was nine months ago."

He broke off and rubbed both hands over his face, as if he was trying to scrub away the memory. He sat back down on the bed, leaned his elbows on his knees and rested his head in his palms. He looked so lost right then, all I wanted to do was comfort him. I stood up and went over to sit down beside him. He didn’t move. I touched his shoulder and he jumped, but stayed put.

"That explains a lot. I’m sorry. It must’ve been awful."

He turned his head and stared at me with hope and suspicion fighting for territory on his face. "Yeah, it was. But I don’t want to talk about it."

I nodded. "Sure."

My hand still rested on his shoulder. I wanted to run my palm down his bare back and trace my fingers up his spine. Nothing good could come of that, though, so I restrained myself. Instead, I moved to touch a starburst of white scar tissue on his collarbone. It looked older than the other scars.

"What’s this one from?"

He looked startled, then his face went perfectly blank. "Accident. When I was a kid. I’m gonna shower now, if that’s okay?"

"Sure, go ahead." He got up without a word, strode into the bathroom and slammed the door behind him. I heard the click of the lock being turned.

"Fuck, was it something I said?" I muttered to myself.

I sat down in my only chair and thought while the shower ran. Eric had told me a little about himself, sure, but I still didn’t know much. Hell, I didn’t even know his last name. All I knew for sure was that he was from Alabama, and that something horrible had happened to him. The attack he’d survived couldn’t be the whole story. There had to be something else, something that terrified him to the point that he ran away with nothing but the clothes on his back.

He was a man with secrets, and I wanted to know what they were.