Dark Taste of Rapture (Alien Huntress 6)

Phoenix, as delicate and fragile in appearance as Ava, yet she was the one who’d stepped in at the last moment to finish pulverizing Noelle’s ribcage. Siren was plain, average—until she opened her mouth. Girl had the voice of an angelic choir, and listening to her was embarrassingly orgasmic.

Kitten, despite her feline grace, was pretty in the same hardass way as Hector. Tattooed, intense, with no apparent softness.

“Let me guess,” Hector said. “Kitten wanted a go at her first.”

How had he known?

“Bingo. Kit asked her how she’d smuggled the maid in—the second time. Don’t know if you were here for that. Anyway, Noelle said she’d used the tunnel. So Kit went off on this tangent about how, if Noelle had used the tunnel, none of us were alerted, yada yada, and roughed our girl Noelle up a bit. Noelle babbled about being willing to do anything to stop the abuse, even showing Kit her tits. Vulgar language out of that candy apple mouth and spoken in that I’m-already-in-bed-and-without-my-panties voice …” Dallas moaned, as if in pain.

“Hey,” Jaxon growled again.

Hector gripped the arm of the couch, his knuckles bleaching. Then he stiffened and pried his fingers from the furniture. Breathing deeply, he settled his hands in his lap.

Such a strong reaction confused her, made her wonder what the hell was going on inside that head of his.

“You know what’s really interesting, though,” Dallas went on when he’d collected himself from the hormone high. “Even when Siren and Phoenix got in on the action, Noelle never cried. Never got winded or acted as if she were hurt in any way. I’ll show you the video feed. This’ll only be my eighteenth time to watch it.”

“No!” Hector shouted, then more calmly added, “No, thanks. I’m too into the game, and I, uh, need something stronger than beer.” He gave his bottle to a still-scowling Jaxon, pushed to a stand, and turned.

That’s when he spotted her. His eyes widened, his nostrils flared, and the gold in his eyes blazed.

Oh, was she in trouble now.

Eleven

NOELLE WAVED WITH ONLY the slightest hesitation, as if she wasn’t reeling from the sight of him. As if she wasn’t irritated for missing him all these many weeks while he wasn’t even interested in watching her outsmart three of his coworkers.

Not that he would realize she’d outsmarted The Estrogen Brigade. Come on—use the tunnel again? Please. But because Noelle had offered a plausible explanation, Kitten had locked on that, never even considering there could have been another way. Same with the others.

Hector stood there a minute, popping his jaw. Rather than rat her out, as she halfway expected, he stalked from the living room, out the front door, and to her side.

He didn’t speak as he grabbed her by the forearm—when had he pulled on gloves?—and tugged her away from the building.

Another shocker: he didn’t haul her ass back to the bunkhouse.

Her heart drummed in her chest, and if she’d been a normal human being, that probably would have hurt the shit out of her battered ribs, was probably damaging her in ways she didn’t know, but honestly? She didn’t care. He smelled delicious, like he had that night in the alley, all earth and sky, fresh, wild, and untamable.

His skin was warm through the soft fabric, warmer than anyone else who’d ever touched her, and the intensity of that heat affected her, reaching those deadened receptors and forcing them to take notice.

After bypassing all of the lamps, he released her and rounded on her, getting in her face. He was scowling. She thought he was going to erupt into a tangent about sneaking from her quarters, but he merely stared down at her, silent.

She could still feel him, she mused, rubbing at her wrist.

He glanced down, paled. “Did I hurt you?”

“No.”

He relaxed, but only for a second. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, spying on us?” The gold in his eyes no longer blazed. They’d frosted over. “You should be in bed—I mean, you should be lying down, recovering.”

He was so close, finally within reach. Every thread of her annoyance faded. She quivered with excitement. “I wasn’t spying. I was eavesdropping.” Was her voice as breathless to him as it was to her?

“There’s a difference?” he asked, arching a brow.

“There has to be, since I was doing one and not the other.” She raised her chin, and the tips of their noses brushed.

Flickers of the blaze returned, melting some of the ice. He jerked backward, ensuring there would be no more contact. But he didn’t stalk away, leaving her alone. He massaged his left hand up and down his right arm.

Was he glowing through the gloves? She couldn’t quite tell.

“Your arms,” she said.

His scowl returned. “I’m wearing glow-in-the-dark lotion. So what?”

He was glowing, then. He was also a liar. Glow-in-the-dark lotion possessed a very distinct odor—an odor that did not cling to him. Also, if your goal was to glow in the dark, why cover up when you succeeded?

Ponder it later. The answer didn’t matter, anyway. He was Hector, beautiful, strong, intense Hector, and she was finally alone with him. No telling how long he would—or wouldn’t—stick around.

“What kind of damage did Kitten do to you?” he suddenly demanded.

Was he simply curious, or did he actually care? “Well, I think I’m bleeding internally and I’ll be lucky to live through the night, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Horror bathed his features. “You’re going to a medic. Now. Don’t you dare think about protesting, either.”

Chuckling, she dodged before he could clasp on to her. Or swoop her up, whichever he’d been planning. “No. I’m fine. Really.” His show of concern delighted her. Meant he cared, as she’d hoped. Even if the caring was only for a subordinate. “She hit me a few times, but it’s nothing I haven’t experienced before.”

He stood there, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “Before.” A menacing growl. “Who hit you before?”

What would he do if she told him? Hurt the offenders in turn? God, she liked that idea. Liked the thought of him rampaging in her defense. Ava was the only one who’d ever had her back. “I’ve been in more fights than I can remember, so I’m afraid I can’t give you any names.”

A pause as he absorbed her claim, relaxed.

“Unless I’m in front of my computer, and open my People To One Day Destroy file,” she added.