“But not untamable.” Kingsley remembered every word of their dream. “We were going to share her.”
“Because no one man would be enough for her.”
“The unholy trinity.” As the final student left the chapel, Kingsley reached out and took Søren’s hand in his own.
“You know I come from a wealthy family. And try as he might, my father can’t seem to sire another son. At age twenty-one I would have inherited my trust fund. But if I married, I’d inherit it immediately.”
“You married my sister so you could have your money?”
“No.” Søren turned and gazed down into Kingsley’s eyes. “I married her so we could have it. You and I. And her, too, of course. I know how much you love her, how much you missed her. Now all of us can be together.”
“She thinks you love her.”
“She’ll understand. If she has half your intelligence and insight, she’ll see the wisdom of this arrangement.”
Kingsley’s eyes widened. Intelligence and insight? Had those words come from Søren’s lips? How many times had Søren held him down and with disdain whispered how worthless Kingsley was, how useless? Did Søren not actually believe that?
“She’s my sister.”
“I know. And I know how you care for her. I have no intention…” Søren stopped, and the words he didn’t speak said everything Kingsley needed to hear.
“You won’t?”
“I can’t... You know that better than anyone.” A slight smile, the first Kingsley had seen on Søren’s face in days, appeared at the corner of his lips.
“You could...” He could if he hurt Marie-Laure. If he treated her the way he treated Kingsley—with violence and scorn, beating her and humiliating her and subjecting her to every type of sexual degradation…then they could be lovers. But only then.
“I wouldn’t. I have no interest in her like that. Only you.”
Hope filled Kingsley’s heart. “Only me? Why?”
The slight smile on Søren’s lips spread to his entire face. Kingsley could scarcely breathe from the sight of it. Not even Marie-Laure, flush with love and in her bridal glory, had looked more beautiful than that one smile.
Søren cradled the left side of Kingsley’s face and Kingsley closed his eyes, relishing the touch of Søren’s skin on his. How long would it be before he felt it again?
“Do you even have to ask?” Søren whispered.
“Yes.”
Søren spoke no more, but Kingsley felt the touch of lips on his. And he understood the truth then. Søren hadn’t married Marie-Laure because he loved her. Søren had married Marie-Laure because he loved him.
Kingsley sensed Søren’s reluctance when he pulled away. Such a kiss as that had always been a precursor to a night of passion. Passion…Kingsley never understood passion until he’d come to a Catholic school and learned of Christ’s passion. Passion…before Søren it had been merely a synonym for lust, for sexual hunger and pleasure. Now it took on new meaning, true meaning. Now passion meant what he felt for Søren. And passion meant what Søren did to him.
“I have to go,” Søren said as Kingsley opened his eyes.
“I understand.”
“I knew you would. And she will, too…eventually.”
“Will you tell her what you are?” Kingsley asked.
“She is your sister. What do you think? Tell her? Or no?”
Marie-Laure would be devastated to learn what kind of man she’d married, but more devastated if he didn’t touch her with no explanation why.
A choice lay before Kingsley. And he knew the right answer.
“Don’t tell her,” he said. “Not yet.”
“If you think that’s what is best.”
“I do,” he lied without meeting Søren’s eyes.
He looked up and found Søren staring at the door to the chapel, staring at it like an enemy that must be defeated.
“You don’t want to go to her.”
“No,” Søren said. “I want to stay with you.”
“Then stay with me. Stay forever.”
Søren found his mouth again and kissed him…a deep kiss, a slow kiss, a kiss of utter ownership. He ended the kiss and stood tall and straight. Kingsley had never seen him look more handsome or more miserable.
“That’s why I married her, Kingsley. So I could.”
The kiss still burned on Kingsley’s lips, the moment still hovered in the air like the final note of a piano sonata.
Søren looked away and took one step, but paused, turned around and shoved Kingsley hard into the wall of the chapel. This first kiss had been an apology of sorts from Søren, the second kiss an explanation. But this kiss, the third and final, it was an attack. Kingsley let Søren bite his lips, his tongue, dig his fingers into his throat...