“So what was the third rune?” I asked as I looked around. “I didn’t recognize it.”

“Just a symbol I can remember easily.” He shrugged, unbuttoning his oxford. “I know only two runes.”

Love and loyalty. Love was no surprise. While true love spells were considered gray magic since they compromised someone else’s free will, charms meant to attract love or help the bearer find love could be purchased at gas stations, to say nothing of charm stores. But loyalty—that was a rarer rune. There was probably a good story behind it, and I made a mental note to ask at some point.

“So I imagine you took a class on runes in school,” Falin said as he peeled off his shirt. He winced with the movement, though his glamour covered not only the wound but the dressing as well, so his chest looked smooth and touchable. No, not touchable. Fine. Or, er, unhurt.

“Unhurt” was a much safer description. I tore my gaze away.

What were we talking about? Runes, that was it. Runes were a nice safe topic.

“Yeah, my academy required me to take four years of rune theory. I don’t use them a lot, though, so I only remember the common ones off the top of my head. What about you? Do the fae have schools that little fae kids go to and learn about Faerie and being fae?”

“Doubtful.”

“You don’t know?” I asked, glancing back over my shoulder.

That was the wrong move. Falin had discarded his ruined pants and now dug through the top drawer of his dresser in nothing but his glamour—and not a glamour that included clothing. From where I stood, I had a perfect view of his broad shoulders, the line of his spine, his trim waist trailing into slim hips and a tight ass and sleek thighs. My hands clenched at my sides as the tactile memory of tracing my fingers over all that skin gripped me.

I ripped my gaze away and tucked my balled fists under my armpits before my hands did something to embarrass me. Now would be a good time to remind yourself he’s the Winter Queen’s lover. But I’d never met the Winter Queen, so she wasn’t the best cold-shower solution in this situation. I needed something else to think about.

“So, do you and Tess date?” I asked, wandering around the furniture. The apartment barely looked lived in. Falin owned a large couch, a dresser with a TV on top, a computer desk with computer, a folding card table and two chairs—little else as far as furniture, and nothing that I could pretend held my interest.

“Tess? No. She stores a key for me because I wind up here without one a little too often. Occupational hazard.”

I bet. “She likes you,” I said, hitting the POWER button on his desktop.

His presence suddenly filled the space behind me. Then his arms slid around my waist, pulling my back against his chest.

“Jealous?” He lips brushed my neck as he asked, sending a shiver down my spine.

“Please tell me you have clothes on.” I knew he didn’t have a shirt—my halter top left enough of my back bare that his skin against mine was obvious.

“Mmm-hmm,” he said, the sound vibrating over my skin.

His embrace was deliciously warm—not blisteringly hot, but a wonderful, content-making warm that made my body tingle with his nearness. It was also completely unacceptable. What is wrong with you, Alex? This morning Death left your skin singing with a ghost of a kiss, and now you’re going all melty because of Falin? I seriously needed to get my head examined. Logic demanded that I couldn’t desire two men at once, right? But I could. Oh, it left me confused, but it didn’t drown the desire. An assassin and a soul collector—how screwed up is that?

I tried to shrug away from Falin, and the movement brought my elbow in contact with his side. He sucked in a breath and I winced on his behalf. Half spinning as I stepped out of his arms, I rounded on him.

“I’m sor—” I caught the apology in time. “Are you okay? Did I reopen it?”

“It’s fine.” He straightened as if his posture could prove his health.

He could say he was fine all day, but I couldn’t see that he was fine. Well, actually, his glamour made his smooth chest look perfect, but obviously it wasn’t.

“Drop your glamour so I can see that wound.”

He grunted in response, turning away from me, and I grabbed his arm to stall him.

“Falin?” I said his name the same way I’d normally say “please” but with none of the debt incursion.

He turned, emotions warring for his expression. Obstinate resistance flashed across his face with a quick thinning of his lips and narrowing of his eyes and then gave way to something softer, but by the time he stepped forward that had faded and a smile I could only describe as sly curled his lips.

He reached out, cupped my face with both of his large hands, and leaned forward. “If you’re that concerned, you can kiss me and make it better.”

“No.”

The smile spread wider, as if that was exactly the response he’d expected. “You’ll change your mind,” he said, and then turned, and with the way he said it, I half expected him to ruffle my hair or tweak my nose as he sauntered away.

I shook my head, not sure if I should laugh or throw something at him.

Either way, I still wanted to get a look at that wound.

“Falin,” I said again, but this time it was just his name, meant to call his attention. As soon as he turned, I cracked my shields. My grave-sight snapped into focus. I dropped my shields so I could see through his glamour, and as I stepped forward to study the wound, I realized that this once the decay benefited me because I could see bits of the gash through the rotted gauze—I just had to be careful not to touch it. I didn’t want his dressing ending up like my poor porch. I caught sight of only small sections of the wound, which were dark against the shimmer of his soul under his skin, but I could see enough to reassure myself that I hadn’t reopened the wound with my careless elbow. I also saw enough to be amazed at how much he’d healed since this morning.

Falin frowned at me when his gaze landed on my glowing eyes. “I told you I was fine,” he said, turning his back on me and heading to his dresser. After pulling a shirt out of the top drawer and shrugging into it, he commenced shoving clothes into the duffel bag. “Try not to make anything in my apartment decay. I’d like to get the security deposit back when I leave.”

“Right.” I slammed my shields in place and my vision returned to normal—or at least to the shadowed landscape that passed as normal. I stepped closer to see exactly how much Falin was packing, and he knelt to pull a false floor out of his bottom drawer.

Another pandora-trap charm locked the safe in the bottom of the drawer. He reached out with one hand, and then paused, glancing up at me. “What, do you want to do it?”

I backed away, holding my palms up flat in front of my body. The charm on the safe had been created by the same person who cast the charm on the box, so it had the same flaws. Falin hadn’t been pissed when I cracked his first pandora-trap, so I assumed that wasn’t the issue now. Note to self: He doesn’t like me breaking his glamour. Of course, if our roles were reversed and someone could willy-nilly look at anything I tried to hide, I guess I’d be peeved too.

He unlocked the safe and pulled out three guns and several magazines, as well as his FIB badge, an extra harness, and an extra pair of knives. Some of these disappeared to various concealed locations under his clothes and the rest went in his duffel bag.

I blinked at the haul. “Are you planning to go to war? Sure you don’t want to pack an assault rifle as well?”

He looked up from the bag. “You have met yourself, right?” He zipped the bag closed.

“So should I get a gun too?”

“I’d fear the day.” He grabbed a blazer and pulled it over his shoulder rig. “You do have a good blade,” he said, nodding toward the dagger concealed in my boot.

“It was a gift.”

“I never doubted as much. If you’re going to carry a dagger, you need to learn to use it.”

I frowned at him. “I know how to use it. I stick the pointy end in things I don’t like.”

That earned a cocky eyebrow lift and he picked up his duffel bag. “Ready?”

“You do know I haven’t invited you to crash at my place.”

“You’d rather stay here?” He gave an open-palmed wave that encompassed the small apartment.

“No, that’s—” I stopped as one side of his lips twitched in a grin he couldn’t hide. He was hitting my buttons on purpose. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“And you’re a danger to yourself.” He grabbed my keys off the dresser where he’d tossed them when we first walked in. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Did you hire a maid?” Falin asked as he stopped in the doorway of my apartment.

I hadn’t walked much farther than the threshold myself. The bed, which I’d put sheets on this morning, but nothing more, was now made, with a comforter I hadn’t seen since last winter tucked in and turned down. The clothes that usually lived in a pile in front of my dresser were gone, and the books I’d left precariously stacked on different surfaces in the room were now lined up neatly on my bedside table. The dishes in the sink were missing, and PC, who was bouncing at my knees, had a large pink bow in the thin crest of hair on the top of his head.

“Who was here?” I asked the dog as I scooped him up from the floor. I attacked the bow one-handed. Someone had come in my house. Had entered my space, violated the masculinity of my dog, and . . . and . . . cleaned?

I couldn’t get the bow loose. Picking up on my agitation, Falin stepped forward to try to help. Of course, three adultsized hands trying to attack one very small bit of twine securing the bow didn’t actually help. PC squirmed in my arms, also not happy about the situation.

“You hold him. I’ll get the bow,” I said, shoving the dog at Falin.

“I take it you didn’t request your house cleaned?” Falin asked, his voice a whisper near my ear as I leaned over PC.