Without Wings

TWO FOSTER SIBLINGS, A SOCIETY OF IMMORTAL CREATURES, AND AN ABILITY THAT TERRIFIES EVERYONE. :: This is me – Lasca Grimshaw, spotlight-shy photographer – shamelessly hiding in the shadows outside my first solo art show, whispering with a handsome stranger about shooting wild horses. Life just doesn’t get any better than this! He’s witty and sexy and, hey I’ll be honest, it’s been ages since I’ve let that particular combination take me home for a night. But then I touch his hand and…! :: Here I am, in the middle of the effing Canadian wilderness, in the middle of effing winter, running for my life. An easy recon assignment, I’d assumed. Yeah, well, you know what they say about those schmucks who assume. And I guess I’d know: Hello, my name is Chez, the Super Schmuck. My enemies are closing in. It’s do or die. Literally. I take my chance. It’s just dumb luck that my hands are bare and I find a patch of skin on the guy and…! :: CHEMISTRY EXISTS. ONLY, IT ISN’T HARMLESSLY THRILLING. IT DEVASTATES.