The King (The Original Sinners: White Years, #2)(34)

“I want to know what price you put on something I considered priceless.”

“Sex isn’t priceless.”

“It was with you.”

Kingsley’s stomach cramped from guilt and sorrow. S?ren laid a hand on the top of Kingsley’s head.

“I absolve you,” S?ren whispered.

“I’ve killed people.”

“I absolve you.”

“I’ve f*cked half of Manhattan and three-fourths of Europe.”

“I absolve you.”

“Absolve me? I’m not Catholic.”

“I absolve you of that, too.”

Kingsley laughed once more, a real laugh this time. S?ren laughed with him. Then the laugh died, and the room was silent once more, silent but for the slight sloshing of the water against the side of the pool whenever Kingsley moved. S?ren stepped even closer. Kingsley rested his forehead on S?ren’s chest, too tired to hold it up any longer.

“You have to stop punishing yourself,” S?ren said, cupping the back of Kingsley’s head. “Judgment is for God alone. You’re committing slow suicide with the way you’re living. That is a sin I cannot absolve you of.”

“I’m so tired,” Kingsley confessed, ashamed to admit even this one small weakness. “The nightmares make me afraid to sleep. No matter how tired I am, I don’t want to sleep. But if I have someone in bed with me, I sleep better. They expect me to f*ck them first. Can’t disappoint them, can I?”

“Are you at least being careful?”

“Not very often.”

“Kingsley, you have to be.”

“I’m getting a condom lecture from a priest.”

“You’ll get more than that if you’re not careful. And you have to stop taking drugs. And you can’t drink like this.”

“I’m a bon vivant.”

“You’re the most miserable bon vivant I’ve ever met. Drinking is for celebrating, not for suicide.”

“I have nothing to celebrate.”

“I do. Celebrate with me.”

“What are you celebrating?”

“For years I had no idea where you were, what you were doing, how you were living. And then you were shot and in the hospital and dying. And that’s why they contacted me. That’s how I found you. Now here you are, right in front of me. God brought me back to you, brought you back to me. I haven’t stopped celebrating from that night I first stepped in this house and saw you again.”

“You were angry at me.”

“It breaks my heart to see you like this.”

“I don’t believe that. I don’t believe you have a heart.”

S?ren pressed his hand to the side of Kingsley’s face and with his thumb stroked the arch of his cheekbone. A gentle touch, a loving touch. He would have preferred a slap. It would hurt less.

“Do you remember all those notes you hid inside my Bible?” S?ren asked.

“I wrote them in French so no one could read them.”

“I still have them. They’re still inside my Bible. I think the Kingsley I remember is still here.”

“You kept my notes?” Kingsley asked. It was the last thing he expected to hear. The notes, the remnants of his bullet… What other pieces of Kingsley did S?ren still have in his possession? Other than his heart?

“All of them.”

“Why? You aren’t in love with me anymore.”

“I treasure the memory of what we had. And I pray we can have something even better, deeper now.”

“What?”

“Friendship. A real friendship.”

“You’re never going to f*ck me again, are you?”

“Could you be faithful to me if I did?”

“Is that a serious question?” Kingsley asked.

“Let’s say it is. Let’s say I would break my vows with you. Let’s say I’d even consider leaving the priesthood for you. Could you be faithful to me?”

“Just you and I?”

“You. Me. Eleanor. The three of us, like we dreamed of that day.”

“You aren’t serious.”

“Pretend that I am,” S?ren said with unbroken eye contact. And for a split second Kingsley almost believed him. “This will be the one time I make you this offer. You. Me. Eleanor. The three of us. Forever.”

“Forever?”

“Eleanor agreed to forever. Can you?”

Kingsley closed his eyes. He could have S?ren and the girl they dreamed of. And what? No one else? Ever? Forever was such a long time. And he’d been free of S?ren for eleven years now. Only S?ren? Only this girl he’d never met?

“I take it back,” Kingsley said. “You’re still a wolf.”

S?ren grabbed a towel off the stack by the steps. He took a corner of it and dried Kingsley’s face. If Kingsley could fall asleep right here, right now, when S?ren was taking care of him, he could fall asleep and never wake up. If he died now, maybe he could die almost happy.

“Can you remember…” S?ren began as he squeezed water from Kingsley’s hair. “Was there ever a time when you felt like you were doing what God put you on this earth to do?”

“Once.”

“When?”