“God, you’re arrogant,” Charlotte growled as Kingsley slapped cold metal handcuffs on to each of her wrists. “I’m not arrogant. I’m French.”

“I don’t believe in ghosts and neither should you, Kingsley.””Why not? I’ve been in love with a ghost for thirty years.” Kingsley strolled over to the armchair and sat on the ottoman between the other man’s knees. Soren narrowed his eyes at him. “The body’s not even cold yet. Eleanor’s been gone one day and you’re already trying to get me into bed again?” ”Again?” Kingsley laughed and rolled his eyes. “Always. Are you surprised?” Soren shrugged. “Not really.”

“I’m currently imagining a few creative ways of causing you extraordinary amounts of pain.”Kingsley raised his chin. Mere inches separated their faces.“Stop flirting. You know we don’t have time for that.”

“If you keep acting like a big baby, I will shoot you. I’ve never known a man so in love with his hair before. “ “I’m in love with all of me. I’m a very lovable pervert.” “Well, you’re going to be a very sexy pervert when I’m done with you. Now hold still.”

“Pourquoi?" Kingsley demanded. "Why? You take her every way you can, every chance you have. Why her and not me?"Soren hadn't replied, and for that Kingsley had been forever grateful. He knew the answer, but to hear it would have broken the one last unbroken part of his spirit.”

“My name is Søren.” Kingsley nodded and prepared words of his own. “Je t’aime,” he replied in the language God spoke. I love you.”

“Tell me, have you ever had sex in the back of a Rolls Royce?" -Kingsley”