“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.”

“I hold his name close as my own blood and I will never let it out. I only spoke it that once so he would know he was alive.”

“Daemon spoke in his language. The lyrical quality of his words made no sense to me.“What did you say?” I asked.“There’s really no translation for it,” he said, “but the closest human words would be, you are beautiful to me.”

“He knew only that his child was his warrant. He said: If he is not the word of God God never spoke.”

“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.”

“You," he whispered his eyes warm and fixated on me, "hold my heart captive."I nodded solemnly before murmuring my reply. "And I'll never let it go.”