Page 83 of Accidentally Vacationed with an Incubus

Devlin was convinced it was Rowan. Shadows pulsed around the room, twisting up the walls before folding back over him like living ink.

“It wasn’t Rowan,” I said firmly. “It couldn’t have been.”

Devlin exhaled sharply. “Jen, it makes sense. Why else would he do all this? Why would he push these ridiculous theories that can’t be disproven? And he clearly hasn’t let go of his obsession with you.”

I shook my head. “Rowan wasn’t obsessed with me, Devlin. He was enthralled by my succubus touch.”

Devlin’s mouth opened, then snapped shut, his brows pulling together.

I huffed, twisting the sleeve of my hoodie. “I should have told you sooner that my dad was an incubus, that I’m part succubus. But when I first got here, I didn’t want to talk about anything that would lead to questions about my parents or what happened. And after that... there just never seemed to be a right time. But the fact is, that summer Rowan had an innocent crush on me. I didn’t realize he’d been affected by my touch until it was too late. He hid it well—until it was buried deep.” I met Devlin’s gaze, willing him to understand. “But it would have worn off after a few weeks of staying away from me. That’s how it works. Your theory doesn’t explain why he’d still be fixated now. Why he’s doing all this. Or his theories.”

Devlin remained silent, but I could feel his resistance crackling in the air.

“Rowan coming up with ridiculous theories? That, I believe.” I let out a dry, humorless laugh, recalling the way he’d theorized that he’d spent the summer stalking me—his part succubus friend—because he might have been possessed by a ghost, the thought of falling influence to my succubus touch not even on his radar. “But masterminding the murder of my parents? Implanting fake memories in my head? Or, I dunno, hypnotizing me to do it? Manipulating me into confessing? No.” I shook my head. “That, I can’t believe.”

Devlin’s expression darkened, his brows furrowing. His eyes flickered shut, his lids twitching as if mentally combing through the files again, searching for something he might have missed.

Devlin’s eyes snapped to mine. “The candy,” he said.

“What?”

“You love candy. What better way for a stalker to slip you a memory-altering potion than in a box of your favorite obsession? The wrappers were scattered all over your bed. You’d been eating them right before you supposedly cut the brakes.”

I stilled.Dark chocolate for dark thoughts.

Could they have been spiked? Had I onlythoughtI cut the brakes?

“And it was Rowan who sent them,” Devlin pressed.

I frowned, searching my memory. My parents had been hours late, and I’d been starving—too angry to touch the dinner I’d been forced to cook, the dinner that had gone cold. I’d been lying in bed when there was a knock at the door. A few moments later, BooDini had floated into my room with the box of chocolates.

I’d assumed they were from Rowan. He’d been sending me all sorts of weird crap that summer, which, in hindsight, had been a pretty big clue that he’d fallen under my succubus touch.At that point, my dad had already realized what had happened, and while I didn’t know what he had done to Rowan, Dad had assured me that it was enough to keep him away. But... Dad had been wrong. Because... yeah, while there was no note, the chocolates were definitely from Rowan.

“It... might not have been Rowan,” I said carefully. “There was no note.”

Devlin arched a brow, his expression all but screaming:Who else would send you a heart-shaped box of chocolates if not your stalker?

I swallowed hard.

Rowan was my friend.

“I’ll just call him, shall I?” I said, pulling out my phone.

Devlin folded his arms, shadows curling around him. “People can lie on the spot, Jen.”

I rolled my eyes but pulled up Rowan’s number anyway. The call rang three times before the screen filled with his familiar face.

“Jenny!” Rowan’s face broke into a relieved grin. “I’m so glad you called.”

A voice piped up in the background. “Dad! Dad! Auntie Brooke is here!”

Wait. Rowan had a kid? I wasn’t sure why it surprised me—he did wear a marital ring in his nose, after all.

Rowan glanced beyond the camera. “Well, go and let her in!” He watched for a moment, then his attention shifted back to me. “Sorry about that, Jenny. Brooke’s here to babysit, and it’s a madhouse. We should catch up sometime, like the old days.”

The old days. Back when our biggest problems were dodging Rowan’s relentless fangirls, keeping an eye on Brooke whenever she slipped out of her controlling father’s grasp, and me daydreaming about summoning my fated mate.

Current times? Rowan was married with kids. Brooke was out there asking strangers to marry her. And I was a convicted criminal fresh out of prison.

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