Midnight Sins (Midnight #2)(12)
Author: Cynthia Eden

Then she’d gone and plunged straight into Todd’s head.

Damn.

Jumping from the bed, she ran toward her mirror. Her reflection stared back at her, eyes wide, hair tangled, skin faintly glowing.

Glowing. Crap. She’d taken from him. Stolen his power as her spirit had seduced his body.

Her head began to shake. A hard back-and-forth motion. She’d taken, and he’d awaken weak now.

“I didn’t mean to do it,” she whispered, confessing to an image that just stared helplessly back at her. Dreamwalking took focus, intent—hell, often a meditative state. Stealing into the dreams of others was a skill that succubi didn’t master until well after sexual maturity. It was one of their greatest weapons, and by far one of the most dangerous.

Cara swallowed and tasted the ash of guilt on her tongue. She’d been dead tired, certainly not possessing the strength needed to slip into a human’s secret dreams. She never should have been able to cross the miles and find Todd’s mind.

It shouldn’t have happened, but it had.

She’d just have to make absolutely certain it didn’t happen again, because, if it did, she wasn’t certain she’d be able to hold on to her control.

The temptation to take the handsome detective was just too strong.

“Shit!” Todd woke up, instantly and completely conscious.

Damn it, he was alone.

His hands fisted over the sheets. He could have sworn that Cara was with him. Holding him. Kissing him.

A dull ache pounded in his temples as he rose from the bed. Not enough sleep, he figured, glancing at the clock to find out that he’d been in bed a total of four hours.

Not nearly long enough.

He ran a hand over his face, and, for a second, he could have sworn that he smelled her.

Cara.

The woman was seriously f**king him up. The last time he’d had a dream that hot about a woman—well, hell, he didn’t think he’d ever had a dream that intense.

He could still feel her satiny skin beneath his fingertips, still feel the curves of her br**sts.

His c**k was hard and heavy with need. A need that he knew only one woman could slake.

Shit.

Todd headed for the bathroom. He needed a cold shower. It would wake him up and chase the woman from his mind.

He yanked on the water, sending the powerful stream jetting full blast, then he stepped back, caught the flash of his reflection in the mirror—

He frowned. What the hell?

His gaze swept past the faint scars on his chest and side. Instead, his stare dropped down to his left arm. His eyes narrowed as he studied the five small half-moon marks on his flesh. Wounds that looked just like they’d been made by a woman’s nails.

“No damn way.” He lifted his right arm. Studied the biceps. Saw the same small wounds.

In his dream, Cara’s fingers had bit into the flesh of his arms as she’d held tight to him. Her nails had pierced his skin and he’d been aware of the faint sting, and of the pleasure of feeling her hips press against his.

But that had just been a dream. A hot fantasy that followed him while he slept.

He ran his fingers over the marks. Felt the raised skin.

“No damn way,” he repeated, even as a wave of unease rippled through him.

No other woman had caused the wounds. He’d stopped seeing his last lover, another cop at the precinct, just over a month before.

His stomach knotted. So how the hell had he gotten a woman’s scratch marks on his arms?

Cara.

Chapter 4

The lady’s alibis checked out.

Part of Todd was thrilled by that news—a very, very large part—because the confirmation meant that the delectable Cara was now fair game for him.

Another part was seriously pissed, and worried. If Cara wasn’t the killer, then the murderer had set her up. No other explanation jived for him.

A killer who liked to play games— damn bad news.

It was Wednesday night. It had been two days since he’d last seen Cara, since he’d gotten to touch those perfect lips and feel her soft tongue stroke against his.

He’d stayed away, knowing he had to keep his distance until he verified her alibis for the murders. Sex with a suspect wasn’t something he particularly wanted complicating his life.

But the lady had been cleared now.

According to Colin, five waitresses and two bartenders had placed Cara at Paradise Found right at the time of the first two kills.

And one very nosy, sharp-eyed, elderly neighbor had backed up her story about being home alone during the time of House’s murder.

Ms. Murphy, former schoolteacher and extreme art enthusiast—judging by the dozens of canvases in her den—had cheerfully told him that “I saw her come racing home right after five. In that bright red car of hers. Went in, stayed in.” A beetled frown had pulled down her white brows. “I thought a man would come and see her, but,” a rather disappointed sigh followed, “no one came that night.”

“So she was home from a little after five until ten p.m.?” He’d asked.

She’d jerked her thumb to a canvas covered in dark gray paint. “I was on the porch, trying a new technique. I call it night painting…”

“Uh, huh.”

“I was there till midnight.” Her fingers, stained with paint, had floated in the air between them. “Cara never left. I’d swear my life on it.” The lady had stuck with that story even after repeated questioning from both him and Colin.

The desk clerk had also been shown a photo lineup. The guy had stared at the line of six blondes, and shaken his head. “I-I don’t think I s-see her.” His words had been husky, the beer still strong on his breath.

“You don’t think or you know she’s not there?” Colin had pressed.

The bleary eyes had cleared for a moment. “She ain’t there.”

So, now, it appeared that Cara was in the clear.

Absolutely perfect.

A car horn sounded nearby—close enough to have Todd jerking in his seat. He was parked outside Paradise Found. He swore softly as he realized he’d been sitting in the car, staring at absolutely nothing, for the last ten minutes.

But, well, he had a few problems on his hands. He had to convince a woman who thought he was a major ass**le that he just might be dateable.

Might.

He also had to catch a killer.

His life was damn busy these days.

With a harsh exhalation of air, Todd finally left his car. His weapon pressed into his back as he walked, and as he drew closer to the dark doors of the club, he couldn’t help but remember his last trip to the bar.