Grave Dance (Alex Craft, #2)(78)

“What did he look like?” he asked.

“Male. Average height. Late twenties to early thirties.

Dark hair. Long dark trench coat. What are you thinking?”

Death frowned, his gaze moving past me.

“Could he be involved?” Falin had snapped into cop mode while I wasn’t paying attention. “He was at a murder scene that had a rift into the Aetheric. Could a . . .

col ector”—the way he said the word made it clear it wasn’t a title he was accustomed to using—“have ripped through to the Aetheric?”

Death shook his head, but I wasn’t sure if he was disagreeing or simply dismissing his own thoughts. Then his eyes focused on me again. “You’re trembling.”

“I’m fine.” I should have saved my breath.

“She needs sleep,” Falin said, his gaze going icy again.

“With you, I suppose?” Death asked.

Falin crossed his arms. “It’s an option.”

“I’m fine,” I repeated. Not that either of them noticed—

they were too busy attempting to stare holes into each other. Perfect. Just what I need. I was cold to the core, magical y drained, and far beyond the point of exhaustion.

“You know what, guys, maybe you’re right. Have fun with the pissing contest. I’m going to bed.” I dropped Death’s hand, closed my shields, and marched over to col apse ful y dressed on my bed. I was asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pil ow.





Chapter 21


I woke trapped under a warm arm. A quick status check showed I was stil in my own bed and ful y dressed, though my boots had vanished at some point in the night. I was sure the warm body curled around me belonged to Falin only because Death was staring at me from where he leaned against the wal across from my bed.

“Did you stay al night?” I kept my voice low, trying not to wake the man behind me.

Death lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Wasn’t much night left. More morning and early afternoon.”

“You know, that is kind of creepy stalker–esque.”

“I’m not the one who crawled into bed with you after you were asleep.”

Point. The men in my life were . . . complicated. And so much for my resolve. I craned my neck to glance back at Falin. His face was relaxed, peaceful with sleep. Good.

Now to get out of this bed without waking him.

Easier said than done.

I tried to slide out from under his arm, but the more I wriggled, the more his muscles flexed, tightening around me. He dragged me back against his chest without waking, like it was a reflex.

Crap.

I grabbed his wrist, hauling his arm off me. Then he did wake. The bed shifted as he moved, and he lifted his wrist from my hands, wrapping his arm around me once again.

His breath tickled along my jaw as he placed a kiss on the sensitive skin under my ear. “Good morning,” he the sensitive skin under my ear. “Good morning,” he whispered, his voice stil rough with sleep.

My mouth went dry, my body waking to answer his in ways I real y wished it wouldn’t—especial y with Death stil standing three feet away, watching me.

“I, uh—I have to pee.” I broke free of Falin’s arm and rol ed to the edge of the bed.

As I crossed the foot of the bed, Falin flopped over onto his back. Staring at the ceiling, he bunched both his hands in his hair. “How many hours should I wait to start breakfast?”

“What? I—” Okay, so I had hid out in the bathroom the last time I woke with Falin in my bed, but this was different.

“I’l be right back.”

Death trailed me. I ignored him until I reached the bathroom—I had no intention of making him visible and encouraging a repeat of last night’s posturing. Once I closed the door, I rounded on him.

“Out. This is alone time.”

“You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

I frowned at him. “I’m being serious.”

“Then you should seriously make him leave.” He jerked his chin toward the inner wal and the one-room apartment beyond.

“He’s not here in the bathroom.”

Death gave me a look that said I knew what he meant, and I sighed.

“He’s helping me, okay?”

Death just continued to frown, and I turned my back on him. His reflection in the mirror watched as I tried to drag a brush through the snarls that my curls had turned into after they’d been slept on, and before that, hours of being tossed around in the wind while crossing over from the land of the dead.

“How do omelets sound for breakfast?” Falin’s voice cal ed from somewhere in the kitchen, and Death’s reflection shook its head.

reflection shook its head.

He muttered the word “omelets” under his breath and then focused on me again. “He has his own agenda.”

I shrugged and turned on the water. “Most people do.” I shoved the brush under the faucet, and then dragged the wet bristles through my hair to calm the frizz.

“Alex.” He stepped closer, his hands molding around my hips. “What do you real y know about him?”

I twisted in his grasp, not to get away but to face him. The position was close, intimate. If I had lifted onto my toes, I could have kissed him. As it was, I was close enough to see the kaleidoscope of colors hidden in his dark hazel eyes.