“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.”

“This isn’t your home anymore.”

I dropped to my bed, tucking my knees to my chin. “This attic will always be my home. It’s the first place I ever felt safe.” The words slipped out before I realized I’d said them, and I cursed silently.

His gaze sharpened on me. “What happened two years ago?”

Glaring at the blue velvet cloak I’d used as a pillow, I swallowed hard. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

He sank to a crouch beside me, lifting my chin gently. His eyes held mine with unexpected intensity. “I do.”

Never had two words sounded more odious. Or foreboding. Crushing the velvet in my fist, I forced a chuckle and wracked my brain for a deflection—any deflection. “I ran into the wrong end of another knife, that’s all. A bigger one.”

He sighed heavily and dropped my chin, but he didn’t move away. “You make it impossible to know you.”

“Ah, but you already know me so well.” I flashed what I hoped was a winning smile, still deflecting. “Foul-mouthed, manipulative, fantastic kisser—”

“I don’t know anything about your past. Your childhood. Why you became a thief. Who you were before . . . all of this.”

My smile slipped, but I forced my voice to remain light. “There’s nothing to know.”

“There’s always something to know.”

Damn him for using my own words against me. The conversation stalled as he stared at me expectantly, and I stared at the blue velvet. A moth had riddled the sumptuous fabric with holes, and I picked at them in feigned boredom.

Finally, he turned me to face him. “Well?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Lou, please. I just want to know more about you. Is that so terrible?”