Dark Taste of Rapture (Alien Huntress 6)

O-kay. “Do you mean that as a verb or a curse?”

“Both.” He released her to run a hand down his face, once, twice, three times. With the first, he revealed confusion. With the second, anger, and with the third self-deprecation tinged with humor.

His arms returned to her waist, but there was no drawing her in. Not this time.

“Want to tell me what just happened?” she asked.

“No.” Another grumble.

“Do it anyway before I show you the blades I’m carrying.”

At least his humor intensified, his lips quirking at the corners. “Violent women really crank my chain.”

“Annnd, not what I wanted to know.”

“Forgive me,” he said, fingers stroking up and down her spine. In reflex, she thought, rather than in a bid to arouse her. “This is just so new to me.”

“What? Being let down gently?”

“Not that. You’ll find this difficult to believe, I know, but I’m turned down flat all the time. I’m not sure why, either.”

She snorted. She just couldn’t help herself. “Yeah, that’s a real mind puzzler.”

“Hey. Is that sarcasm I detect?”

“Oh, Dallas,” she said, reaching up to pat his cheek. “Somehow you have turned the blackest day of my life into one that’s merely dark and gloomy. Thank you.”

He frowned. “Blackest day? Why? You look happy to me.”

Damn. She shouldn’t have let that slip out. “What are you talking about? I am happy.”

“But you just said … I just … Never mind. You’ll only tax my poor, abused brain further. So, here’s an admission for you, and an answer to one of your earlier questions. I saw this day … saw us … and we ended up in … Oh, never mind.”

“Tell me.”

“I—” The song ended, and his arms fell to his side, severing contact. “Uh, I’m needed elsewhere, so I’ll see you around, Noelle.” Off Dallas raced, never once glancing back.

“Well, okay, then,” Noelle muttered. Her gaze landed on Ava, who was peering up at McKell with utter adoration.

I want that, she thought.

Suddenly done with the party scene, and craving a minute alone, she took off in the opposite direction, heading for the back door. No one tried to stop her, and for that she was immensely grateful.

Outside, the parking lot was spread out around her. The sun was hidden behind dark, gray clouds, the air damp and cool. Closing her eyes, she leaned against the wall. She’d lived through the worst of the day. She could deal with anything else.

Right?

Sixteen

DAMN IT,” HECTOR CURSED when he spied Noelle. He should have left the wedding and stayed gone.

He’d left the wedding all right, but he hadn’t made it more than a mile from the chapel. Dallas’s I’m going for it had continued to ring inside his head, taunting him, infuriating him. Then he’d thought about Noelle’s red dress on his friend’s bedroom floor, resting beside a suit other than his. He’d pictured two naked bodies straining together on a mattress, had heard pleasure-filled moans.

He’d nearly destroyed the interior of his Jag as he reprogrammed the chapel’s address.

Once there, he hadn’t gotten out, hadn’t gone inside. He’d remained in the car, in the parking lot, the tint on his windows darkened to the highest setting so that no one could see inside. He’d glared at the building, and yes, he’d taken care of himself while imagining Noelle. With him.

Finally he had calmed down, the burning in his arms subsiding, the glow completely diminished.

The only thing that burned him now was humiliation and shame. That he’d done such a thing in a public place … his stomach rolled. At least he was out of the danger zone. Small comfort, considering he wasn’t sure he’d stay out.

One of the agents inside the building was emailing pictures of the wedding reception to everyone in her address book, and not two minutes ago Hector had opened one of Dallas on the dance floor, his strong arms wrapped around Noelle. Noelle had been grinning up at him.

Only reason Hector hadn’t stormed inside to rip them apart was that Noelle had still radiated so much sadness. Seeing her, his chest had ached unbearably.

He’d told himself to go home, that Dallas would work his magic and Noelle would fall under his spell. That the two of them would drive to the nearest hotel—they wouldn’t be able to wait until they reached Dallas’s apartment, because God knows, if the situation had been reversed, Hector wouldn’t have been able to wait—and sleep together.

And once Noelle had slept with his friend, Hector would stop thinking about her. Stop dreaming of her. Stop craving her. Surely. He needed to stop. She was a thorn in his side, a torment to his soul, a sickness in need of a cure.

He could never be what she needed, never touch her the way she’d want. More than that, he wasn’t good enough for her. Another man would make her happier. Far, far happier.

Yet he opened his car door, got out, and walked toward her anyway.

Noelle heard the footsteps and opened her eyes, prepared to paste on a smile and wave whoever had intruded on her personal space inside. Then she spotted Hector, and straightened. A frown pulled at the corners of her lips. His presence was a surprise.

His big body was gorgeous, as always, but humming with tension.

His night-wild scent reached her before he did, waking every cell she possessed. Next she felt the heat of his body, electrifying her. And then he was there, just a few feet away. Within touching distance, the width of his shoulders practically engulfing her.

Bad Noelle. No touching. “What are you doing here?” she asked, not yet daring to met his gaze. She was too afraid of what she’d see. Irritation, maybe. Or maybe even nothing at all, as if she were meaningless.

“I’m cleaning my gun. What does it look like I’m doing?”

O-kay. The snotty attitude wasn’t a surprise. “It looks like you’re annoying me.”

Still he didn’t attempt an explanation. He just shrugged and said, “Well, you look beautiful.” Grudgingly offered, as if the compliment had been yanked from his throat.

And yet that was the first time he’d ever said anything nice to her and she became wet. Just like that.

“Thanks,” she muttered, fighting the arousal.

“Welcome.”

Finally, she looked up.

Instantly her body reacted as if she’d just run a ten-mile marathon uphill. Her breath shallowed so much she was panting, her lungs refusing to fill. Her temperature went from melting to one hundred percent liquefied, her knees weakening, trembling.