Pixies squealed from the rafters, and Trent and Quen warily watched them. I plucked at my salt-stained shirt and tried to find an air of nonchalance as I prepared to introduce His Most Holy Pain in the Ass to Miss Elf Princess.

The hair on the back of my neck rose as I strolled past Quen and flopped into my rolling chair, parked beside my desk. “Have a seat,” I said, shifting back and forth and gesturing to Ivy’s furniture, still arranged in the inner corner of the church. “You’re in luck. We usually don’t have our living room out here, but we’re doing some remodeling.”

Trent looked at the gray suede couch and chairs and turned away, glancing at my desk before moving on to Ivy’s piano, where interest pulled his eyebrows high. “I’ll stand,” he said.

Rex strolled in from the dark foyer and headed right for Quen. Much to my surprise, the older elf crouched, fondling the orange cat’s ears to make her flop onto her back to show her white belly. Quen rose with Rex in his hands, and the cat’s eyes slitted in pleasure as she purred.

Stupid cat.

Trent cleared his throat, and my gaze shot to him.

“Rachel,” he said, setting his gift on top of the closed piano, “do you make a habit of showering in your clothes?”

My back-and-forth motion stopped. I tried to think up a lie, but that the power was out didn’t lend itself for me to be damp. “I…uh, slept in the graveyard,” I said, not wanting to tell him my neighbor had downed me with my own spell, hoping Trent might think it was dew.

A smirk came over him, and somehow he made it look good. He knew I was afraid of Piscary. “You should have killed Piscary when you had the opportunity,” he said, his wonderful voice filling the open space of the sanctuary with the sound of grace and comfort. Damn, the man had a beautiful voice. I had almost forgotten. And yes, I could have killed Piscary and probably gotten off with a plea of self-defense, but if I had, the vampire wouldn’t be around to hide the focus for me. So I said nothing. Trent, though, apparently wanted to talk.

“That doesn’t explain why you’re soaking wet,” he prompted.

My jaw clenched, but then I forced myself to relax. Hell, if Ivy could do it, I could, too. “No,” I said cheerfully. “It doesn’t.”

Carefully lowering himself to sit on the piano bench, he inclined his head. “Having trouble with your charms?” he said, fishing for an answer.

“Absolutely not.”

Quen let Rex drop to the floor, and the cat shook herself, making the little bell Jenks had put on her jingle. I watched Trent fidget subtly, reading in his slightly elevated color and his crisp enunciation how nervous he was. My thoughts went to his anger when he had asked me to work security for his nuptials, his blaming me for Lee’s capture and installation as a demon’s familiar. A twinge of guilt took me, quickly suppressed. But if I got Lee free of Al, Trent would owe me a big debt of gratitude. One big enough that he might leave me alone?