CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

 

 

Alex and I remained quiet. Detective Dawson sighed. “From what I’ve gathered, Michael Onyx attacked you in your home,” he started with a nod at me. “You arrived to assist,” he turned his attention to Alex. “And somewhere in there, Mr. Onyx wound up dead from head trauma.”

“That’s correct, Detective,” I finally spoke up. What happened was self-defense. There was no reason not to be up front about it. “He attacked me, Alex’s arrival distracted him, and I kneed him in the balls. Once he sufficiently recovered,” I shrugged, “he admitted he was the Actress Murderer, and Alex punched him in the face when he tried to attack us again. He hit his head, falling, had a seizure, and died.” My voice caught on that last word. Michael was a killer, but still. I had never seen someone die in person before.

Alex murmured his agreement to my account.

“About that,” Dawson responded. “You say he confessed to killing the women. Even though no concrete evidence has been supplied to suggest that today…or previously.” He stared long enough for me to feel uncomfortable.

“But pretty decent circumstantial evidence,” I countered. “All the women had similar appearances and Michael was present at all the scenes.”

The detective sighed again. “That’s true,” he agreed, though continued to stare at us.

As if sensing it was time again for his magic, Alex stepped closer to the detective, who put a hand out immediately. “Please stay back, Mr. Moore.”

Alex looked nonplussed by this statement but complied.

I wondered how he would work his incubus influence without the necessary distance. Suddenly, Alex began having a coughing fit. He rudely did not cover his mouth as he directed the forced air at the detective. Dawson turned and reflexively exhaled.

Ah, that’s how.

Detective Dawson made a face in apparent disgust. When Alex inhaled the white mist, though, Dawson’s expression took on an open visage. I didn’t think I’d ever get tired of seeing Alex work his magic.

Now when Alex leaned in closer, the detective did not hold up a hand or say anything. “You already had Michael Onyx on your radar. Other witnesses reported they saw him speaking with several of the victims in the days leading up to their deaths. You believe he poisoned them with chemicals that simply aren’t remaining in the system long enough to be identified by the lab. We are innocent bystanders. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“I think it’s time for your team to go. Okay?”

“Okay.”

I watched in awe. The detective spoke to his team members, everyone gathered up their belongings, and they left. They actually left.

“Won’t they realize later that what they’re thinking doesn’t make any sense?” I asked once they were gone.

“Not exactly.”

“What does that mean? Do your suggestions eventually fade?”

“They do, just not completely. It’s hard to explain. They may recognize that something seems off or maybe doesn’t add up, but they’ll remain convinced they have their guy. What usually happens is they’ll change the way they look at other information so that it fits the suggestions I gave them. Plus our story is the truth.”

“What usually happens? Hmm, how often do you use your ability?” I was teasing him now, and he knew it.

“Much more since I’ve met you,” he admitted, walking over to me.

“You’re in my personal space,” I told him, holding a hand up like the detective had.

Alex wrapped my hand in his. “I hope to be in even more of it soon,” he said, his voice a husky growl.

“I think that can happen,” I responded, pulling my hand from his and wrapping both arms around him. Our bodies fully touching felt electric.

Our lips met, lightly at first, then with deepening desire and intensity. A first kiss that met all the promises hinted at before.

I pulled back, knowing passion mirrored in our eyes. “Stay with me, my incubus,” I whispered.

“Always.”