“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.”

“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.”

“When Søren touched her she became his. When Wesley touched her, she became herself.”

“Kid, Søren could eat you for breakfast and not even need to chew. Don’t ever fuck with a sadist, Wesley. For Søren, torture’s just foreplay.”“Why did you stay with him?” he’d whispered.Nora had grinned at him, and she saw a new fear in Wesley’s sweet brown eyes.“I like foreplay.”

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

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been…” “Eight days,” Søren supplied. “Eight days since my last confession. Let’s see… where to start?” “Pace yourself, Eleanor. If you forget something, I will remind you.”