Aphrodite Needs an Alibi (Aphrodite Needs a Clue Book 1)

by Regan Claire

  “Of course.” I stand there and watch him sit down. Do I just lean over and start rubbing?

  “Let me put my head in your lap.”

  Oh. We’re gonna be snuggling. Gross.

  I sit down and he puts his head on my thighs, face up. He lifts one side and pulls some things out of his pockets, then puts them on the coffee table. It’s a wallet and a set of keys. Are they the keys? There’s a small tremor in my hands as I start to rub his temples in small circles.

  “I know that this is hard for you right now April. Thank you for trying. This is all I ever wanted. You’ll love me soon, don’t worry.”

  I don’t say anything.

  “Where are your succulents?” he asks. My hands freeze for half a second.

  “They’re resting for a few minutes.”

  “I bet they need to after your feeding. Were they satisfying?”

  “Oh, I’m certain they will be. They’re perfect,” I say. I close my eyes, because Smith is looking at me. Very slowly, I let out a tiny tendril of my power.

  “I feel that,” he says, body stiffening.

  “Good, that means it’s working. I thought you’d like a little help relaxing,” I tell him. My voice is even. His body relaxes again.

  Very carefully, I increase my tendril inside him the tiniest bit. Then again. After a few minutes, I look down. His eyes are closed.

  I see Kay peek from the room. Has she been watching long? She slowly opens the door wide enough to get out and starts creeping to the couch. I shake my head no while trying to focus on keeping the pressure even on his temples. My hands are actually getting a little tired. Kay creeps forward, hand hovering over where Smith put his keys. I’m freaking out. I can’t say anything, because I can’t let Smith open his eyes. I can’t move. All I can do is look at her with wide eyes.

  I close mine again. If she’s going to do this, I need to concentrate, spread my power a little more thoroughly through Smith without doing it too quickly. I want him relaxed. Hell, if I’m a drug, I want him stoned.

  The sound I didn’t realize I was listening for jingles in my ears. My eyes pop back open, Kay is still there standing perfectly still, biting her lip and holding the keys in her hand.

  Unfortunately, I’m not the only one who heard the sound the keys made. Smith may have had his eyes closed, but he was still ready for something like this. He sits up and lunges forward. Kay tries to move, but she’s not fast enough. He has her by the wrist. I can tell he’s hurting her in his grip. She drops the keys. Billy comes hurling out of the room, but only gets arms length from his sister before Smith backhands him hard enough to make his feet leave the floor on impact.

  “Billy!” Kay calls. I go to Billy. He’s not knocked out, which is good, though his nose and lip are bleeding.

  “I hoped we were past this.”

  My mouth moves faster than my mind. “You thought wrong.” I probably should have tried to make an excuse, dispel the situation, but I’m madder than hell right now and it’s hard to think.

  Kay makes a whimpering noise. “Smith, you’re breaking her wrist,” I tell him. I’m not sure that he actually is, but he’s definitely hurting her. “Let her go.” My words are emphasized with a flare of power. I don’t do it on purpose, but I can tell it hit Smith because he lowers the hand that’s holding Kay for a second. My tendrils are still inside him.

  “That’s not going to work, April.”

  I push more into him. “Let her go, Smith!”

  He lets her go, but I don’t think it’s because I told him to. He’s enraged, and hurtling towards me. I run towards the room, because it’s the farthest away from Billy and Kay. He’s too fast, and catches me before I can get there. I’m trying to slam power into him. I wished I’d been able to test my theory under different circumstances.

  Tolerance and immunity do not mean the same thing. If I can give him a big enough hit, maybe…maybe what? I’m still not even sure my power works that way on people like him. It hasn’t affected Rhys the same way.

  No matter, it’s my only option. I’m gonna see if this bastard can overdose.

  He has me by the shoulders, squeezing hard.

  I open up myself and let my power pour out. I spend so much of my time holding it in that it feels good, like stretching after being in a cramped space for a long time.

  His nostrils flare, but he shows no other sign it’s hit him. “You’re mine, April. Not the other way around, not this time.”

  I reach my hands up and touch his arms, the only place where I can reach his bare skin with his vice-like grip on my shoulders. I pour my energy into him. These aren’t tendrils, but rivers of power.

  “That’s what you think,” I tell him. His jaw goes slack, his grip relaxes, but I’m not sure that I’ve really got him, or if the effect will last long even if I have.

  “Get his keys and go!” I yell to Kay and Billy. I didn’t really need to scream for them to hear me, but my adrenaline is pumping so hard that the only volume I have is loud.

  My voice shakes Smith loose a little. Oops. His eyes refocus and he lets me go in order to turn toward the kids.

  “Stop,” I tell him with every ounce of command at my disposal. His foot hangs in midair for a breath, but continues.

  “Your power is too weak, Aphrodite, and I’m not so weak as to fall under your spell anymore.”

  Kay and Billy have grabbed the keys and Kay has started up the stairs, but Billy stops at the bottom of them, watching us. I need to distract Smith.

  “Face it Smith, you’ve been under my spell since the moment you saw me, because you’re weak. The weakest. I wouldn’t be here if you weren’t still obsessed with me.”

  “You being here proves I’m stronger than you.”

  “My being here proves that you’re no better than a child who throws a fit when Mommy doesn’t give him the toy he wants.” I pause. “Oh, that’s right. Mommy didn’t even want you. She threw you away. Even she knew you were garbage the moment she laid eyes on you.” He turns back towards me. He’s going to hit me. I brace for it but it doesn’t come. Billy has launched himself at Smith, tackled him from behind. Smith wasn’t expecting it, but it still does little more than make him take a small step to the side to keep his balance.

  “Billy, no!” Kay screams too late, coming back down the stairs. Smith reaches over and grabs Billy by the shirt, violence written all over his face.

  I grab the chain on my wrist, wrapping it around both fists. Smith is hugely tall, but he’s not looking at me right now. Quickly, I slide my hands over his head. The chain catches on his nose, and he immediately lets go of Billy when he realizes what I’m doing.

  “Run,” I scream again at Billy and Kay. They had better listen this time, because there’s no way this will work. The chain is in place under his chin, but I’m literally hanging on with everything I’ve got. Maybe most people would immediately go for the chain wrapped around their neck, but Smith is smarter than that. He reaches behind his head to grab my wrists, but I manage to hold on to the chain despite the bone-crushing grip he has on me. I keep pulling as hard as I can, ignoring the pain. A bull rider I am not, and I have a feeling Smith here would give even the most enraged bull a run for his money with the amount of thrashing he’s doing. I taste blood. Dammit, I bit my tongue.

  “Let go, April,” he manages to wheeze out. I can’t really feel my hands now, whether from his grip on them or the chain itself cutting off circulation. Suddenly, he lets go of my wrist and does grab the chain at his throat. He stops fighting entirely. Am I winning?

  My grip on the chain dissipates and I fall backwards. No, the chain dissipated. Now I’m on the floor with the world angriest crazy person leering down at me.

  “I’m not sure which is dumber: trying to kill someone who can’t die, or doing it with a chain he created.”

  “Not any more idiotic than thinking murder and kidnapping are romantic gestures, you twat-face.” I need to work on my angry words. I’m not sure I even know wh
at a twat-face is.

  He grabs me by the wrist he’d been holding, the one that had, until recently, been wrapped in an invisible chain. I wince. If I survive until tomorrow, I’m going to have a few wicked bruises in the shape of his hands. What’s with guys leaving their handprints on me?

  “That’s right, keep hurting me. That will win me over,” I say. I’m completely unconcerned with self-preservation at this point. If I keep him pissed off and focused on me, he won’t track down Billy and Kay, who I hope have hightailed it out of here.

  “You were supposed to love me!” he screams in my face, droplets of spittle hitting my cheek. Say it, don’t spray it.

  “No, that’s not how it works.” I’m livid now. How dare he? I’m overtaken by the scant memories I have, of being bartered off like a piece of furniture. “It’s your job to love me!” I say viciously, putting my other hand over his on my wrist. I pump everything I can into that touch. I grab hold of his heart, because it belongs to me.

  They all belong to me.

  He drops my wrist like it’s made of lava, tries to pull out of my grasp. I pull him closer. “I thought you wanted me, Smith. Here I am. What, can’t handle me after all?” I sink my powers into his center, and fill it with so much intense feeling that I think it’s going to explode. That feeling of love that everyone so wants, I let him feel it until he’s brimming full and his eyes are wide with the power of it.

  Then I rip it away. I take and take until there’s nothing left, growing powerful with what I steal from him. He sinks to his knees.

  I do it again. Because I can feel the shadow of the chain around my wrist, the invisible weight of a net against my body.

  Because there’s a part of me that remembers how to hate, and she wants to punish everyone who taught her that hard lesson. They wanted to control the gifts I have to offer, and underestimated the power that I control. These are thoughts from a former life, a former me, but I don’t care.

  Smith is in the fetal position, face etched with the agony of love.

  Good.

  Wait, not good. What am I thinking? I don’t do this. I’ve never hurt people on purpose, not even when I used my powers all the time.

  “Please,” he whimpers. I’m not sure if he’s asking me to stop, or asking me to continue. I shake my head and take a small step backwards. What have I done?

  “Police! Put your hands where we can see them.”

  Relief floods my system. I’ve been so absorbed by what I was doing to Smith, I didn’t notice that help has come. I turn around quickly, and see a gun pointed at me. I need to move further away from Smith; it’s never a good idea to be in the crosshairs.

  “Ma’am, on your knees with your hands up!”

  It takes a couple of minutes to understand what’s being said. They want me to get on my knees? I start raising my hands, but before I can fully comply a third officer clears the stairs and takes a step into the basement room. This one I recognize, and I’m not so sure that’s a good thing.

  “April? Guys, let’s not cuff the victim,” Detective Polias says, focusing her attention quickly to the real bad guy in the corner. Phew. Based on the last time we saw each other, I assumed she’d want to slap the handcuffs on me personally. I’m glad I’m wrong on this one.

  “Are you sure, Polias? She was standing over the body over there when we came in.”

  My arms are starting to tire in their half-raised position, the stress from today catching up with my body. I don’t lower them though. Not until I’m sure I won’t get shot before everything is figured out.

  Detective Polias walks to Smith, her footsteps silent on the hard floor. She’s still in my sightline since I didn’t turn completely around before freezing. She looks at Smith from one knee, then looks at me, like she knows what I did and how I did it. Shame circles my heart.

  “He’s alive, and he’s my perp. Your tip told you a woman had been kidnapped at this location. We can’t arrest a victim for defending herself. I’m here to arrest the man for two murders in my district.” She pauses, taking in the sight of him huddled on the floor, whimpering please over and over. “I was really hoping this part would stay forgotten,” she says, glancing my way and quietly enough that I doubt anyone but me heard it. The look on her face isn’t fear, but is cautious, like a predator who has caught the scent of a snake.

  One of the officers swings his gun to Smith while the other one lowers his completely. I lower my arms.

  “Ma’am, are you okay? Are you injured?” he asks me. I shake my head no, but I don’t think that’s the truth for both questions.

  “Get her out of here and checked out by the paramedics. They should be here by now. I’ll Mirandize this guy,” Detective Polias says, easily rolling Smith over to cuff him. The look on her face is enraged, as if she is personally offended by what he has done.

  I’m escorted up the stairs, mind swirling from the quick change in circumstance.

  Needs to Go Home

  I’m tired. The paramedics gave the okay for me to leave after instructions to ice my bumps and bruises and take some ibuprofen for any pain. Despite that, it feels like forever before an officer is able to bring me home since I don’t have a car. I’m not in any shape to drive, anyway. I pull the scratchy blanket from the paramedics closer around me, thankful the police had me change from the stupid silk outfit and into a set of sweats that say “Police” across the shoulders. The drive home feels like it takes forever, but we’re pulling into the parking lot of my apartment complex after only an hour and a half on the road. It could be worse, I guess. The day isn’t over, and all in all I was only with Smith for less than two days, even though that doesn’t feel right. It felt longer. My car is parked in front of my building. Who brought it back for me? The motorcycle parked next to it gives me a good hint, and even though I’ve never seen Rhys with it, I know it’s his.

  He’s pacing in front of my building, and when he stops, I know he’s aware that I’m home.

  The officer parks. I don’t get out. I don’t know if I can face Rhys right now. I squeeze my eyes shut when images of Rhys’s former self floods them. Ares.

  No, I don’t know if I should see him right now.

  What if I hurt him the same way I hurt Smith?

  “Ma’am, do you need any further assistance?” the officer asks. Now he’s also eyeing Rhys. I wonder if he’s feeling the same sense of violence waving towards him that I am.

  “No, I’m okay. Thank you,” I say before stepping out of the car to walk towards the stairs, where Rhys is waiting.

  The waves of violence retreat until there’s nothing left. He stands still, frozen, once I reach him, as if he’s unsure his presence is welcome. Or maybe he’s afraid of me, because of what I did to Smith.

  “Are you okay?” he finally asks. His body still hums with danger. Even though it’s not pulsing out around him now, it’s still part of who he is. I’m not afraid. Having him close makes me feel safe. He makes me feel protected.

  I reach out to him, basically collapsing in his arms. The tingly crying feeling starts up, but I hold it back. Rhys wraps his arms around me, squeezing me, leaving just enough room to breathe. Barely.

  “I was halfway there when Minerva called and told me you were safe,” he tells me.

  “Billy and Kay called you?”

  “They called from a payphone and told me where to find you. They called the police too.”

  I nod, glad that they’re safe, but part of me is uneasy. They’re just kids. I don’t like the idea that they are out there alone, but I guess they aren’t alone. They have each other.

  “I’m surprised you had them call me instead of Eros.” There’s something in his face, something like hope.

  I look at him. “I knew you were listed,” I say, then decide to tell the real truth. “I knew you wouldn’t let him keep me. I wasn’t sure anyone else would help.”

  “I’m not the first choice to ask for help for most of the people who know me. If you knew me better,
you wouldn’t let me get so close to you. You saw how I am, and that was just a fraction of what I’m capable of when I lose control.” He’s referring to the bar fight, and yeah he’s frightening. I’m more frightened of myself. What he can do is scary, but I made a man twice my size whimper from a lack of love, and beg for it to be returned, and that is terrifying. Rhys can destroy a man, sure, but I can destroy his heart, and what is a man without his heart; without his soul?

  “Why not Eros?” he asks before I can respond. The look in his face is equal parts fear and hope.

  I shake my head. “I remember Eros standing by and doing nothing but hold my hand.”

  “You remember?”

  “Barely more than that, and nothing I understand.”

  “Do you remember me?”

  I search his face, and see his real question etched in the lines around his eyes, around his mouth. Do you remember us? That’s what he really wants to know.

  Do I?

  “I remember some, but it’s like a dream. It was a dream.” I hesitate before answering. “Why don’t I remember?” I whisper the question I haven’t had time to ask, even to myself.

  A thrum of aggression crests under Rhys’s skin. “We’ll find out,” he says, and then it’s gone. His control is unbelievable. “And we’ll get your memories back.”

  “What if we don’t?” I’m not even sure I want to remember.

  He looks at me and a slow smile spreads across his face.

  “Then you’ll just have to make new memories,” he says. That’s the only warning I get before he leans down and kisses me. It’s both sweet and savage, and is over before I can set up my own defenses. It’s still long enough to make me spin. To make my heart patter at the promise of something I don’t remember. When he pulls back, he looks up the stairs to my apartment, then back at me. “There’s someone waiting for you inside. Go talk to him, and then rest.”

  “Who…?” I don’t finish my question, because I know who. Eros is here. I look up the stairs, mentally preparing myself for a conversation I’ve been too afraid to have.