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Mor nodded, biting back his relief. But his mind was occupied by the hundreds of memories, big and small, that he had with Violet, right from the day they’d met in his bell tower, and every day he’d spent with her after she’d thrown herself off his roof. “Where were they?” Mor managed to ask.

“You’re never going to believe it.” Shayne grinned and shook his head. “Your interns were tied together—his arms around her and her little arms around him—and locked in an ice cream shop downtown for two days. They were forced to hug each other in the beautiful, cool sanctuary of sweet ice cream and crunchy cones. It’s actually a little romantic when you think about it.”

“They were kidnapped,” Mor corrected. “They were probably terrified.”

“Yes, well, they ate ice cream and hugged for two days. I can think of worse ways to be trapped than in a delicious shop with my arms around a pretty female,” Shayne said. He grabbed a thin blanket off the back of the couch. “Speaking of which…” Shayne snatched Violet as she took her first leap and rushed for Mor.

Mor was too distracted to notice Violet rip a panel of wood from the windowsill as she charged. The point of the stake came within an inch of his throat before Shayne wrestled Violet into the blanket, tying it around her so her arms were strapped down. Violet stared at Mor as the panel of wood dropped from her fingers and clattered to the floor.

Tears sprang into her eyes. “Please leave,” she rasped. The first words she said to Mor.

Mor studied her shaking hands, the pleading in her voice. Her tone told him that his presence was making her lose control, and he didn’t need the senses of a fae to know why that was difficult for her. But he had to hear her say it herself…

“Do you really remember nothing?” Mor asked her.

Violet didn’t blink, even when a tear broke loose and rolled down her freckled cheek. “No,” she said.

“Enslave her, Mor. It’s the only way,” Shayne said, holding tight to her shoulders to keep her in place. “Undo what that fox did, or she’ll keep coming at you like this.”

Mor took in a deep breath. “Do you want me to?” he asked Violet. “Do you wish to be enslaved by me so I can command you to stop trying to kill me?”

Violet’s mouth moved. It looked like she was struggling to say something important. But try as she may, no sound came out. Finally, she closed her mouth and gave up.

Shayne sighed. “All right, I’m giving you exactly five seconds, Mor. Enslave her, or I will.”

“Do it, and I’ll throw you through the window,” Mor threatened.

“One,” Shayne said anyway, and Mor’s face changed.

“You’d better be joking, you fool.”

“Two,” Shayne went on, wrapping his arm around Violet and giving her a little squeeze as if to assure her he had her best interests in mind—which he didn’t. “Three…”

“Shayne,” Mor warned.

“Four!” The white-haired assassin was practically singing the digits now.

There was a pause after that. Shayne didn’t say the last number. He looked at Mor, waiting. Testing him. Mor stared back, positive Shayne wouldn’t dare.

Shayne’s smile widened a little.

“Queensbane,” Mor cursed. “Shayne!”

“Five!” Shayne shouted, spinning Violet toward himself, and Mor charged. “Haley Whitefield, I command you to stop trying to kill Mor!” Shayne blurted it just as Mor ripped him back. Every muscle in Mor’s healing faeborn body flexed as he lifted Shayne, turned, and hurled the white-haired assassin through the window of Lily’s apartment.

Glass shattered to the floor; fresh wind rushed into the living room.

There was a light thump below, and a car trumpet began to sound.

Shayne’s cackling laughter flitted all the way back up.

Mor’s chest heaved, even as he stepped to the window to steal a glance down, hating that he was too concerned to move on without making sure the fool was all right.

Shayne lay back against the roof of a human vessel, bringing one arm behind his head like he planned to take a peaceful nap there. He’d dented the roof—all the blue metal was warped, and the vessel sang its trumpet alarm without ceasing. The fairy waved up at Mor with a wink that seemed to say,“You’re welcome.”

Mor huffed, gripping the sill of the broken window. First, he had to deal with his human forgetting him. Now he would have to deal with Shayne’s fairy shenanigans as Shayne would no doubt play tricks on Violet at every turn with his new power. Mor only had one choice; to enslave her himself. Perhaps that was precisely what the white-haired assassin was hoping for. But Mor considered how much easier it would be to just take out Shayne’s tongue so the fool couldn’t command Violet to do anything more. He doubted the enslaving rule would still work with hand-gesture instructions.

It was settled then. Shayne was going to lose his tongue.