Inside the room, Bram set the tray on the desk. "I'm sorry," Bram offered.

"Alphas," Bijou spat. "Apparently I can't even carry a tray!"

"I was trying to help," Bram said. Then he glanced at the single bed.

"Don't you say you'll sleep on the floor!"

"But—"

"I said, don't!"

Shifting in place Bram sighed. "Do you want to eat?"

"Yea." Bijou sighed as well. "We'll eat in bed." He pulled off the cap Bram had given him and shook out his hair.

Bram watched as Bijou unbuttoned his shirt down to the navel, then untucked it. He then sat down on the bed and began to take off his boots.

"Sit down, Bram. You're staring," Bijou muttered.

"Sorry," Bram answered, and took the tray to the bed. He set the tray down and for the first time since he was woken up to kill Bijou and his children, he began to undress. He took off his boots, unbuttoned and untucked his shirt, and ran a hand through his curls. His face was even more in need of a shave.

"Do you always keep your whiskers like that?" Bijou asked.

Bram looked over at him, but then quickly looked away. Bijou was shirtless and in only his undershorts.

"N-no," Bram muttered. "I try to keep clean-shaven."

"You should try whiskers. It suits you." Bijou pushed the tray toward Bram. He was talking with his mouth full and he was nearly naked. "I'd grow whiskers if I could."

Bram laughed. "I can't imagine you with whiskers," Bram muttered and reached for the meat.

"If you spill on your shirt, I'm not washing it."

Bram paused, then hesitantly took off his shirt and placed it behind him.

They ate in silence until the food was gone, then Bijou took the tray and put it on the dresser. By the dresser, he stretched before returning to the bed and stretching out there.

"I'm exhausted," Bijou said. "I wish we could take a car into Paris."

"It would be easier," Bram admitted. "But tomorrow night, if everything goes well, you'll be home."

"Will everything go well?" Bijou asked. He leaned over Bram. His hair was messy from being inside the hat, but he was still beautiful. His eyes almost glowed in the lamplight. He was beautifully tan and as muscular as Bram thought he would be.

"How should I know?" Bram said. "I'm not a witch, but I will protect you."

"Liar," Bijou muttered with a smile.

"I will."

"Oh, I know you'll protect me. I mean, you're lying about not being a witch." Bijou was leaning down, coming ever closer.

Bram frowned. "You shouldn't, Sir."

"I told you to stop calling me sir," Bijou whispered.