Brennan is black lightning and blues, neon-soaked rain squalls, bayou midnights and creeping Spanish moss. He’s unknowable depths, flame-hot touches and bleu clair eyes. He’s the mystery, the moon rising in the west, the secrets written on bones and cast under dark stars. Some part of me may need Sheridan, like the earth needs the rays of the sun. But I was made to love Brennan Walker. And then I was set down in this life, where that love is an impossibility.
Sob
