No. I needed him.

Whatever the reason, I didn’t care.

One second, we knelt together on that bloody floor, and the next, I flung my arms around his neck and kissed him. He pulled away for a fraction of a second, startled, but then he fisted the fabric at the back of my cloak and crushed me to him, mouth hard and unrelenting.

Control deserted me. As close as Reid held me, I wanted to be closer. I wanted to feel every inch of him. Tightening my hold, I molded my body to the hard shape of him—to the broad expanse of his chest, his stomach, his legs.

With a low groan, he snaked his hands under my thighs and hitched me up against him. I wrapped my legs around his waist, and he bore me to the floor, deepening the kiss.

Something warm seeped through the back of my dress, and I broke away abruptly, stiffening. I glanced over to Andre and Grue.

Blood.

I was lying in their blood.

Reid realized it the same second I did, and he vaulted to his feet, pulling me up with him. Spots of color rose on his cheeks, and his breathing sounded uneven. “We should go.”

I blinked, deflating slightly as the heat between us cooled and icy reality set in. I’d killed. Again. Sagging against his chest, I looked back to where Andre and Grue lay. Forced myself to stare into their cold, dead eyes. They gaped at the ceiling, unseeing. Blood still seeped from their wounds.

Revulsion coiled in my stomach.

Vaguely aware of Reid disentangling himself from my arms, I stared down at my cloak. The white velvet was ruined now—stained irrevocably red.

Two more deaths. Two more bodies left in my wake. Just how many would join them before all was said and done?

“Here.” Reid thrust something into my limp hand, and I wrapped my fingers around it instinctively. “An early Christmas present.”

It was Andre’s knife, still slick with its master’s blood.

Of My Home

Lou

The sun was setting by the time we made our way back to Chasseur Tower. Reid had insisted on reporting the whole messy affair to the constabulary. Question after question they’d asked, until I’d finally snapped.

“Do you see my throat?” I’d jerked my collar down to show them my bruises for the hundredth time. “Do you think I gave them to myself?”

Reid had been quite keen to leave after that.

I supposed I should’ve been grateful for his reputation as a Chasseur. Otherwise, I had little doubt the constabulary would’ve seized the opportunity to throw me in prison for murder.

Outside, I turned my face to the dying sun, breathing deeply and trying to collect myself. Andre and Grue were dead. The Chasseurs still hadn’t found Monsieur Bernard, which meant he probably was too. I hadn’t seen or spoken to Coco since our disagreement at the ball, and Reid and I—we’d just—

He halted beside me without a word, slipping his fingers through mine. Closing my eyes, I savored the callouses on his palm, the roughness of his skin. Even the bite of the wind on my cheeks wasn’t unbearable with him near. It swirled around us and filled me with his scent—vaguely woodsy, like fresh air and mountain pines, with a hint of something richer, deeper, that was entirely Reid.

“I want to show you something, Reid.”

His lips quirked up in my favorite lopsided grin. “What’s that?”

“A secret.”

I tugged his hand to lead him away, but he dug his feet in, suddenly suspicious. “It’s not something illegal, is it?”

“Of course not.” I tugged harder, but Reid didn’t budge. Trying to move him was like trying to move a mountain. He raised his eyebrows at my futile attempts, clearly amused. I finally gave up, slapping his chest. “God, you’re a huge ass! It’s not illegal, all right? Now move, or I swear to God, I will strip naked right here and dance the bourrée!”

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.”