Dark Taste of Rapture (Alien Huntress 6)

A snort. “Did I mention that I loved the pretend hurt over my death threat? Classic!”

“What I can say? I totally missed my calling as the best actress in the world.”

A calling she’d missed because she’d never actually planned to work.

Noelle would have gladly financed Ava’s entire life of leisure, saving her friend—and herself—from ever having to get a job. But Ava actually enjoyed earning her own way, so Noelle always went along for the ride.

They’d worked in a bakery, at a used car lot, inside a makeup factory, and as interns at her brother’s law firm. Sad truth was, Noelle would rather toil herself into an early grave than be without her best friend.

Codependency, thy name is Noelle. Did she care? God, no. She just loved Ava.

“So?” Ava prompted. “What gives?”

Noelle pushed out a breath. “Well, you know my family has always viewed me as a useless doll.” Not just her immediate family, but her cousins, aunts, and uncles, and anyone else associated with the Tremain name. They fed off each other, delighting in sharing humiliating stories about the things she’d done and said.

“Useless, but so beautiful.” Ava nodded. “Yeah. Continue.”

She beamed. “I knew you thought I was hot.”

“Dude. If you had a penis, I’d freaking marry you.”

A genuine chuckle left her. “Anyway, I was just giving Jaxon a taste of what he expected.”

“Lesbos,” MG muttered as she walked past them, heading toward the … enzyme showers.

“Tranny,” Ava threw at her.

Ugh. Group showers. Sure, you could remain fully clothed in an enzyme stall, and the dry mist would even clean your shoes, but Noelle preferred to strip and sing in private.

At home, she bathed in water. The real deal, which was hugely expensive, but she didn’t care. There was something so soothing about the patter of liquid against porcelain, the spray of hot water against skin, the enveloping, invigorating steam that filled your nose, your lungs.

Ava snuggled closer. “What else?”

“Plus,” Noelle continued as if there’d never been a lag in the conversation, “I thought it’d be prudent to lower Hector and Dallas’s expectations. You know, start at the bottom and fly our way up.” Thereby making it easier to prove themselves.

What’s this? Trying to prove yourself already? Tsk, tsk.

AIR wasn’t a potential boyfriend. She could make an allowance, but only this once. And only because Ava wanted this so badly.

“Normally I’d agree with your methods,” Ava said, “but we kinda need their support if we’re going to pass this thing.”

“Oh, we’ll more than pass. We’ll crush this place.” Delicate fingers smoothed the hair from her brow. “You’re right. We’re too awesome to do anything less. Plus, we’ve got good old-fashioned lust on our side. I think Dallas was imagining your body twined around his like a pretzel. Hence his asinine question about pretzels and Jaxon’s swift retaliation.”

“Nah, Dally was just showing off in front of his friends. Which is why I went with Oh, my God, as if I really thought he meant the food, but afterward, I felt like I should have brought it down a notch and said OMG.”

The corners of Ava’s mouth twitched with her amusement. “Would have been priceless, and I would have broken a few ribs from laughing. As it was, I just peed a little.”

“And the other guys? How’d they react?” Not too obvious, not too eager. “I was too entrenched in my role to notice.”

“Jaxon was embarrassed by you. Sorry. And Hector was disapproving.”

No disappointment. You knew they felt that way.

Had Jaxon told Hector embarrassing stories about her before her arrival? she wondered suddenly. Was that why Hector had frowned at her the moment she’d stepped off the bus?

Her cheeks heated as she imagined exactly what Jaxon could have shared. The time she’d interrupted a dinner party her parents had thrown, walking through the dining room in only a bikini, giving an elderly gent a heart attack. All because earlier that day her father had said, “You want better grades, buy them. You don’t have what it takes to earn them on your own and I’m sick and tired of being embarrassed by your lackluster performance,” and she’d hoped to punish him.

Or the time she’d filmed a bit part as a murdered waitress in Chucky’s Evil Twin, just to embarrass her elitist mother. Another punishment. The week before, Madam Tremain, as Ava sometimes liked to call her, had asked all her friends to send their single sons Noelle’s way so that she’d stop “digging through the trash for her dates.”

“My math could be off here,” Ava went on, “but I’m pretty sure all three guys thought you’d been dropped on your head one hundred and seven times.”

Noelle gave another chuckle, a common occurrence in Ava’s presence. “Teaching them better is gonna make this experience,” delicious, exciting, thrilling, “halfway tolerable.”

Three

AIR Training Camp

Day Five

NOELLE HAD LIVED THROUGH orientation.

She also had lived through the first round of drills. And the second … third … and fourth—no thanks to her instructor. Hector Dean had it out for her, for real, demanding she run faster, climb higher, and shoot straighter than anyone else.

Whenever he felt she wasn’t giving something her all, which was all the damn time, he yelled at her.

Usually that kind of thing pissed her off and sent her spiraling—either with anger or frustration, causing her to act out. Instead, she truly found herself running faster, climbing higher, and shooting straighter.

Trying to prove herself to him—and not just for Ava’s benefit either. For her own. Just like she’d done with her parents and Corban. And yet, this time around, the experiences filled her with a weird blend of happiness and sadness. Happiness because she was succeeding, sadness because Hector didn’t seem to care.

Why am I never good enough?

Well, whatever. She wasn’t going to ponder that mystery again, and she wasn’t going think about AIR or Hector. Wasn’t going to consider how good he always smelled. Like fresh laundry and a storm-drenched sky. Wasn’t going to remember the way his eyes glittered like amber when someone—namely her—pricked his ire. Or the way the swirling tattoos on his arms flexed erotically, highlighting the thick muscles underneath, whenever he moved. Or the strange way her blood heated every time she looked at him.