"In Paris," Armand says, almost before he can stop himself, the closeness of their bond making it more difficult to hold things back. Spilling out all over Daniel, staining him with his impulses.

"In Paris," he repeats, making it a purposeful statement, half a recollection. Louis had needled him with it back in Dubai; Armand's tone suggests something else, something sacred. "As we walk along the Rue Servandoni, the shadow of the Église Saint-Sulpice. And then we retire to our hotel room, where you can undress me with your teeth, and have me to the sound of the bells ringing across the city."