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Ce n’est pas facile d’être un Morgan. Surtout quand les cadavres commencent à s’accumuler et qu’il n’y a rien que vous puissiez faire pour l’empêcher.
Quinn Morgan n’a jamais vraiment correspondu au moule familial. Il rêvait d’une vie avec des livres au lieu de badges et de connaissances au lieu de loi… et d’une vie avec Rafe Andrade, le bad boy, ami de ses frères aînés et l’homme qui a brisé son très jeune cœur.
Rafe Andrade est revenu chez lui pour lécher ses blessures suite à son éjection du groupe qu’il avait aidé à créer. Toxicomane en voie de guérison, Rafe passe son temps à se complaire dans la culpabilité, jusqu’à ce qu’il se retrouve face à sa dépendance initiale : Quinn Morgan… la raison pour laquelle il a fui la ville au démarrage.
Quand Rafe entend dire que les Sinners sont à la recherche d’un bassiste, c’est une chance de se racheter, cependant qu’un meurtrier fou se rapproche de Quinn et Rafe est prêt à tout sacrifier – y compris lui-même – pour garder son idéaliste Morgan sain et sauf.
298 pages, Kindle Edition
First published September 4, 2015
"Breathe, baby," Rafe murmured softly, holding Quinn's face.
They shared a kiss made only of their breath, and Quinn tasted himself on Rafe's exhale, marveling in the surety in Rafe's golden-brown eyes.
"This isn't a one-time thing, Q. Not us. Not ever. I told you. I'm in this. If you want me. Don't let that hay-and-needles brain of yours skew things sideways, and don't go borrowing trouble. You and me… we work, don't we? In our odd, weird way?"
"God, you make me feel normal," Quinn whispered. "Like I'm just… like there's nothing wrong with me."
"There's nothing wrong with you, babe," Rafe replied, stroking Quinn's cheek with his thumb. "You're who you are. You're Quinn."
"I’ve spent my whole life living in a world where I don’t speak the language everyone does." It was difficult, digging into wounds he’d let heal over, hoping they wouldn’t fester into poison beneath the surface of his heart. "I understand what you’re saying, but everyone moves and acts so oddly. Like I’m living in a world made up out of broken mirrors, and every time I try to reach for one of you, I cut myself on the edge of the glass.
"And this world, Mum." He sighed as she took his hand, squeezing back when Brigid laid her head on his shoulder. "This world… it’s all grayish. Monotones of muted hues where sometimes I can’t tell the difference between a door and a window, but everything’s sharp and everyone hurts. And there’s so much noise. Everything chattering and demanding, pushing into me."

["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>"He’d wasted his life. To be fair, wasted was an understatement. Decimated came closer, leaving destroyed a distant second. He’d gathered it up like he’d done to the artwork in the hotel room and set it on fire. Unlike the impromptu bonfire, he’d burned his life until there was nothing left of it but ashes and the stink of regret."
“There’s nothing wrong with you, babe,” Rafe replied, stroking Quinn’s cheek with his thumb. “You’re who you are. You’re Quinn.”
"He could just… be around Rafe. No modifying behavior, no stopping and asking himself if he said the right thing or missed the meaning of something. He had a freedom with Rafe he’d never had with anyone before."
“I see you looking at me—all warm and sweet—and all I think about is how I don’t deserve you. Don’t deserve that affection, but see, I’m an asshole, Quinn. Because I’m going to take it—and hold on tight.”






