Page 12 of King of Hollywood

No fidgeting.

No noise.

“I love stars,” he countered, voice reverent.

“Why?” Curiosity once again got the better of me.

“They’re steady.” Felix murmured, voice reverent. “Constant.” His lashes kissed his cheeks as he sighed. When his eyes opened, they stared unseeingly at the covered ceiling—as though he had memorized the stars that lay hidden behind the fabric.

My throat was dry as I admired the slope of his nose, the swoop of his chin, the span of his long, pale throat. There was a peculiar smattering of freckles at the base of it where his collarbone flirted with the fabric. I’d never noticed them before, but I certainly did now.

“Until they explode,” I added helpfully. Felix laughed, and I shivered, enamored with the way his body came to life. Quaking, like a statue resurrected.

“Until they explode,” Felix agreed, twisting to look at me. There were mysteries swirling in the depths of those lovely eyes. His nostrils flared, and he sucked in a greedy breath.

His attention felt heady as he stared at me.

For the first time in his presence, I felt hunted.

I licked my lips, my heart thumping unsteadily in my chest.

“The last supernova was discovered on February twenty-fourth in 1987,” Felix told me, somehow holding my entire attention. I could feel the weight of his gaze tingling all over my skin, making the hair on the back of my neck stand up, and my stomach jerk. “You were probably a child. I doubt you remember.”

“I don’t.”

“It was bright enough you didn’t need a telescope to see it.”

“Oh.” I blinked, then cocked my head, confused. “You talk as though you were there.”

“I was.”

“But you…” I stared at him in disbelief, gaze dragging over his very young, very lovely face. There was no way he was a day over thirty. Right?

“I’m older than I look.”

At a loss for words, and far too overwhelmed by Felix and his nonsense, I twisted to observe the rest of the room. I was here for murder. Not stars. Not pretty throats, or odd men who claimed to be older than they were.

Clearing my throat, I forced Felix’s bullshit out of my head. “Where did the murder take place?”

“Oh! Yes. My apologies. Right over here.” He gestured toward the bed. There was a jerkiness to his movements that I made a note to revisit, as I approached the bed with a frown. All his earlier grace disappeared, and he was a bumbling idiot again.

I did my best to ignore him, though that was difficult as I fumbled around in my satchel for what I needed. I’d brought my tools with me, a black light for one, and as I raised it to inspect the fabric I was surprised to find…nothing.

At all.

Huh.

“I thought you said there was blood.”

“Oh,” Felix’s voice wavered. “I mean—there was.”

“But there’s none here.”

“I uh…” he sidled closer, staring at where the light illuminated a whole lot of nothing. “I guess there’s not?”

“Did you clean it already?” Annoyed, I huffed at him. I had specifically told him not to touch anything. But…I supposed if he had, he’d done a pretty damn good job.

And if he hadn’t…Well, that didn’t make sense. He’d said there was blood, so how could there be none? Admittedly, I hadn’t really gotten a good look at the body as I’d been preoccupied with getting it into the car. It’d been bagged up in garbage sacks, so there hadn’t been a solid opportunity to gawk.