I thrust my hands on my hips and looked at him expectantly.

He didn’t even glance at the people around us. He didn’t get flustered. And Reid always got flustered.

Instead, he kept his eyes trained on mine, a slow smirk spreading across his face.

“Do it.”

I narrowed my eyes and straightened my shoulders, drawing myself up to my full—if not inconsiderable—height. “I will. Don’t think I won’t. I’ll do it right now.”

He raised his brows, still smirking. “I’m waiting.”

I glared at him, hands jerking up to the silver fastening of my cloak. I forced myself not to glance at the lingering shoppers around us, though they certainly glanced at us. A bloody white cloak was hardly inconspicuous. “I’m not afraid to cause a scene. I thought you knew that.”

He shrugged and shoved his hands into his pockets. “The first time worked out pretty well for me.” My cloak fell to the ground, and he eyed it appreciatively. “I’m thinking this time might too.”

My stomach—traitorous thing it was—swooped at his words, at the way his eyes tracked my every movement. “You’re a pig.”

“You’re the one who volunteered.” He nodded his head toward Pan’s patisserie as I began untying the laces of my dress. “But you should know, we have an audience.”

Sure enough, Pan stood at the window of his shop, watching us closely. He startled slightly when I turned and waved a little too quickly to be natural. My fingers stilled on my lacings.

“You got lucky.” I snatched my cloak from the ground, throwing it back around my shoulders inside out to hide the worst of the blood. Unable to help it this time, I glanced around, but the shoppers had lost interest. Relief washed over me.

“Agree to disagree.”

“You really are a pig!” I whirled to storm back toward Chasseur Tower, but he caught my hand.

“Stop, please.” He raised his other hand placatingly, but the arrogant smile still played at the corner of his lips. “I want to see your secret. Show me.”

“Too bad. I changed my mind. I don’t want to show you after all.”

He turned me around to face him, wrapping his hands around my arms. “Lou. Show me. I know you want to.”

“You don’t know me at all.”

“I know stripping in public is too much, even for you.” He laughed. It was a lovely, rare sound. “I know you’ll never admit you wouldn’t have done it.”

The amusement in his eyes slowly darkened as he held me, and I became painfully aware this was the closest we’d been since our kiss that morning. He stared at his thumb as it brushed my bottom lip.

“I know you have a filthy mouth.” He pressed down hard on my lip for emphasis. I shivered. “And you’re used to getting your way. I know you’re vulgar and dishonest and manipulative—”

I recoiled, nose wrinkling, but he only gripped me tighter.

“—but you’re also compassionate and free-spirited and brave.” He tucked my hair behind my ear. “I’ve never met anyone like you, Lou.”

Based on his frown, the thought made him uneasy. I didn’t care to examine my emotions too closely either.

Marrying a blue pig. I didn’t think even you could stoop that low.

Whatever Reid was, he wasn’t a blue pig. But he was still a Chasseur. He believed what he believed. I wasn’t foolish enough to think I could change that. He would look at me differently if he knew who I truly was. His hands—touching me so gently now—would touch me differently, too.

Estelle’s face flashed in my mind. Reid’s hands wrapped around her throat. My throat.

No. I stumbled away from him, eyes wide. His brows dipped in confusion.

Awkward silence descended, and I chuckled nervously, wiping my palms on my skirt. “I changed my mind again. I want to show you a secret after all.”

Soleil et Lune soon came into view.

“The theater?” Reid peered at the empty steps in bewilderment. “That’s a bit tame for you, isn’t it? I was expecting an underground bootlegging operation—”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Chass.” I paused by the backstage door, hiking my skirt and climbing atop the trash bin. “I’d never be caught underground.”

He inhaled sharply as he realized my intent. “This is trespassing, Lou!”

I grinned at him over my shoulder. “It’s only trespassing if we get caught.” Then I hoisted myself over the gutters, winked, and slipped out of sight.

He hissed my name in the gathering shadows, but I ignored him, wiping the slime off my boots and waiting.

Hands appeared a moment later as he hauled himself up after me.

I couldn’t help but laugh at his scowl. “Took you long enough. We’ll be here all night at this pace.”

“I’m a Chasseur, Lou. This is totally inappropriate!”

“Always with that stick up your ass—”

“Lou!” His eyes darted to the rooftop. “I am not climbing this building.”

“Oh, Chass.” My own eyes widened as understanding swept through me, and I snorted in an undignified way. “Please tell me you aren’t afraid of heights.”

“Of course I’m not.” He gripped the stone tightly. “It’s a matter of principle. I won’t break the law.”

“I see.” I nodded in mock agreement, forcing back a smile. I could let him have this one. I could resist the urge to rile him, just this once. “Well, fortunately, I don’t give a damn about the law. I’m going up regardless. Feel free to sic the constabulary on me.”

“Lou!” He tried to grab my ankle, but I was already several feet above him. “Get down!”

“Come get me instead! And for heaven’s sake, Chass, stop trying to look up my skirt!”

“I am not trying to look up your skirt!”

I chuckled to myself and kept climbing, savoring the bite of cold air on my face. After the nightmarish incident at the smithy, it felt good to simply . . . let go. To laugh. I wished Reid would do the same. I rather enjoyed his laugh.

Glancing back at him, I allowed myself to ogle his powerful shoulders in action for only a second before pushing myself to climb faster. It wouldn’t do for him to beat me inside.

He gasped when I slipped through the broken window of the attic, hissing my name with increasing alarm. The next moment, he hauled himself in after me. “This is breaking and entering, Lou!”

Shrugging, I moved to the pile of costumes that had once been my bed. “You can’t break and enter into your own home.”

A beat of silence passed.

“This—this is where you lived?”

I nodded, inhaling deeply. It smelled exactly like I remembered: the perfume of old costumes mingled with cedar, dust, and just a hint of smoke from the oil lamps. Trailing my fingers along the trunk Coco and I had shared, I finally looked at him. “For two years.”

Stoic as ever, he said nothing. But I knew where to look to hear him—in the tension of his shoulders, the tautness of his jaw, the tightness of his mouth. He disapproved. Of course he did.

“Well,” I said, sweeping my arms open wide, “this is the secret. It’s no epic romance, but . . . welcome to my humble abode.”