Still no one came for us.

I hoped they’d survived. I hoped they’d rescued Madame Labelle and Beau, and I hoped they’d fled the city. I couldn’t bear the thought of them watching us burn. Though it wouldn’t be their fault, they’d never forgive themselves, and Coco—she’d suffered enough. She’d lost enough, as had Madame Labelle and Beau and Célie and even Jean Luc. Perhaps we’d been stupid to dream of something more. Something better. I still hoped they’d found it.

If anyone deserved peace, it was them.

Reid rested his cheek against my hair. “I’m so sorry, Lou.” Silence stretched between us, tautly strung like a bow. I waited for it to snap. “I wish—”

“Don’t.” Slowly, I lifted my head to look at him. My heart contracted at the anguish on his familiar face. I traced the shape of his brows, his nose, his lips, staring at each feature in turn. Deep down, I’d known how this would end all along. I’d sensed it from the moment we’d first met, from the time I’d first glimpsed the Balisarda in his bandolier—two star-crossed lovers brought together by fate or providence. By life and by death. By gods, or perhaps monsters.

We would end with a stake and a match.

Waving my hand, I shielded us from any huntsman’s gaze. Magic erupted around us. “Kiss me, Reid.”

Confessional

Reid

I stared at her tearstained face, chest aching. She didn’t need to convince me. I’d do anything she asked. If kissing her would stop another tear from falling, I’d kiss her a thousand times. If we survived the night, I’d kiss away every tear for the rest of her life.

Where you go, I will go. Where you stay, I will stay.

She’d whispered the words to me like a prayer. And I still felt them. I felt each one.

How could I have ever thought this emotion between us wasn’t sacred? This connection. What I felt for Lou was visceral and raw and pure. It would consume me, if I let it. Consume us both.

But I stared for too long. With fresh tears, she flung her arms around my neck and buried her head in my shoulder. Cursing my mistake, I cradled her face in both hands. Gently. So gently. I tipped her face up to look at me. And then—with deliberate care—I pressed my lips to hers.

I couldn’t soothe this ache. I couldn’t right this wrong. In all likelihood, we’d both burn at sunset.

But I could hold her.