Page 56 of Rogue Riders Duet

But then a full-body shudder rolls down my spine.

“Ew. Get that thing away from me.” The words slip out before I can stop them, but at least I manage to keep my voice deep.

Luc spins on me, looking like I just kicked a puppy.

“He’s not a thing,” he snaps, eyes hard. “He’s my son. So, shut up.”

With gentle coaxing and soft French murmurs, he scoops Toulouse back like he’s the most precious thing in the world. The rat immediately scrambles up his arm and sits on his shoulder, looking perfectly smug about the whole ordeal.

Like father, like son.

Luc strokes his little head once, then waves lazily at Karl as if nothing happened.

“Go on,” he says. “Do your thing.”

I balk. “No. God, Luc, I told you I don’t want to.”

He takes a step toward me. “You don’t want to,” he says gently. “But you need to.”

Taking me by surprise again, he grabs the hem of my hoodie. I move to stop him, but not fast enough. His fingers are already lifting the fabric, exposing my skin.

“See?” Luc says to Karl. “Crashed right on the…”

The bruise is already more widespread than it was an hour ago, but that’s not what stops him mid-sentence because the bruise isn’t the only thing he sees. His eyes are locked on my scars, faint surgical lines, some deep, some small, but they’re all over my hip and lower abdomen.

His gaze traces them slowly, like they’re a map, and the air in the room shifts, becoming tighter, hotter.

Luc crouches down and lifts the hem a little higher to follow the line of a jagged scar that curves up toward my ribcage as his breath brushes my skin, making my heart slam against my ribs.

“Merde,” he whispers, seeming too stunned to say anything else.

I snap out of it and swat his hand away, yanking the hoodie down hard. My face is burning, and my lungs ache with the weight of what he just saw, what I never meant for anyone to see. Silence fills the room until…

Hiccup.

Bury me already.

Luc’s eyes snap back to mine, soft and intense, but full of questions I’m not ready to answer.

Before he can decide which one to ask, the blonde woman steps in. “I’ll take this session.”

Luc turns toward her, his brows pulling together. “What?”

“You can have your massage with Karl. I’ve got a free hour. I’ll work with him.”

Luc blinks. “Really?”

“I don’t want—” I start, but she cuts me off.

“Delacroix’s right.” She steps forward and catches my forearm. “You need the session, or your body’s going to seize up by tomorrow.” She squeezes gently, and her eyes meet mine. There’s a glint in them, a silent play along.

What the fuck is going on?

“Ah…” Luc smirks, cocking his head. “You’ve got a thing for younger guys, Piper? Just don’t steal him. I’m starting to like having him around.”

The woman, Piper, rolls her eyes hard enough that it should be audible. “Shut up, Delacroix.”

She guides me out of the room and through the second door, into a smaller room.