“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.”

“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.”

“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.”

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

“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.”

“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.”

“There’s nothing you could do to me now that I wouldn’t want.” -Kingsley”