Dark Taste of Rapture (Alien Huntress 6)

“Why can’t you try with me? I wasn’t picking out china patterns or anything.” He’d like something bold. Scarlet, maybe, with ebony flecks and asymmetrical edges. “I save that for date two.” She’d tried for a witty tone. She’d failed. She just sounded needy.

“You deserve something better,” he said miserably. “I’m not just really dangerous, I’m too dangerous.”

Dangerous. How many times had he tossed that word at her? As many times as he’d tossed out damn, she was sure. “Uh, have you met me, Agent Mean? I’m kinda dangerous, too.” God. She was practically begging him to date her. How pathetic she was. She should stop, leave now while she still had a little dignity. He might want her, but if he wasn’t willing to try, she couldn’t force him.

“You’re dangerous, yeah, there’s no denying that. I saw you tackle a perp, then stab him in the leg when he ran away. But I’m on a whole different playing field, sweetheart.”

This was the second time he’d called her sweetheart, and her heart skipped a treacherous beat. When other guys used cute little nicknames with her, she wanted to strangle them with their own intestines. When Hector did it, she wanted to swoon like a Victorian maiden. Weird. “Let’s pretend I believe that.” She. Should. Stop. She should shut up. But then she recalled the handprints he’d left in that wall, the night he’d warned her away, and the way he always tugged on those gloves, time and time again, and some of her hurt vanished, leaving a hollow curiosity. “How? Make me understand.”

A heavy pause. She thought he meant to deny her.

Then, “I can … I hurt … People die when I touch …” He banged a fist into the dashboard, the skin boasting a slight glow—even though he still wore the gloves. There were several holes in the material. Tendrils of smoke wafted, curling up.

When he noticed, he trembled with abject fear, removed them, and fumbled for a new pair in his pocket. As he pulled those on, he said, “Look, it doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have approached you. Shouldn’t have promised you anything more. Nothing can ever happen.” He turned away from her, facing his window, but hesitated. “All right? Okay?”

I can—kill? I hurt—women he touched? People die—because of his sometimes-radiant arms that could singe asbestos, or whatever material he wore, and burn through metal? Probably. He was so agitated, tension layered with more of that self-disgust vibrating off him.

So … say she was right. Say his hands really were hazardous, like weapons. Weapons he couldn’t control. Say he normally avoided women to prevent himself from burning them like he’d done the metal wall. Yet still he had kissed Noelle—three times. Still he had almost given her more. Because he hadn’t been able to help himself. That meant he craved her, just as he’d claimed. As desperately as she craved him. Desire ruled him whenever he neared her. If only for a little while.

Could be wishful thinking on her part. Or she could be dead-on right. She needed to think, to figure out what she was willing to risk—like, say, her pride—to have this man in her life. Or if she was willing to risk anything at all. Right now everything she felt could stem from the lingering heat of his kiss, the fear of losing Ava, and the thrill of her first murder investigation.

“All right,” she finally said. “I won’t jump you.” Not tonight, at least. “Now let’s go solve this mystery so I can go home and call Ava.”

Hector turned so quickly he would surely suffer from whiplash, his gaze narrowed and zeroed in on her, his lips pulled back in a scowl, his teeth a flash of white in the surrounding darkness. “What the hell, Noelle?”

Noelle glanced left, right, trying to figure out what had just pissed him off so badly. Nothing had changed, no one had approached the car. “What?”

“Why are you going to call her?”

“That’s what twisted your panties? Jeez. This is the first night of her honeymoon, and I want to know how McKell performed.”

A muscle ticked in Hector’s jaw. “That’s it? That’s the only reason?”

“Yes. Why—” Finally, understanding dawned and she scowled. “What, you thought I planned to tell her about you and your speech?” She forced a chuckle. “Darling, if I told her about every man I came close to screwing, we’d never be able to discuss anything else.” A lie, but he would never know that.

His eyes slitted further, but in the end, he emerged from the car without uttering another word.

Nineteen

SMILE IN PLACE, NOELLE exited her side of the vehicle, the length of her gown swishing down her legs and brushing the ground. The officers gave her a thorough once-over; some leered, the obviously blind ones shrugged and looked away, as if she were nothing special. Someone whistled, and someone else cackled out a, “Who’s that? Red Carpet Barbie?”

“Nah, ’cause then we’d get to strip her and bend her however we wanted.”

Snickers.

Had Ava been here, the man would already be on his knees, begging for forgiveness. Noelle would have cheered her on, content in the knowledge that she was loved unconditionally and protected fiercely.

Now she’d have to take care of herself. Something she could do, something she had done many times before, and something she would continue to do again and again, because—

“Shut the f**k up, or I’ll rip out your throats and do it for you,” Hector growled.

Silence. Absolute silence followed the threat. Or promise.

“Good boys.” His tone gentled, though it was no less brutal. “Now tell me who called this in.”

She wasn’t going to point out that the men couldn’t shut up and talk to him. She was too pleased by his defense of her.

Smile suddenly genuine, she walked to his side, clipping a few of the guys with an elbow to the gut as she did. They hunched over, wheezing for breath. “I’m so sorry,” she said, so sincere she brought tears to her own eyes. “The dress … so long … I tripped …”

Hector coughed to cover a laugh. “So? Who called it?”

Hector … amused … the unveiling of his dimples … a shiver rocked her.

A young man with sandy hair and glasses stepped forward. He was average height, on the slim side, and just a little scared to find himself in Hector’s sights. “Agent Dean, sir, uh, a witness called. Claimed he’d seen four men. Two were here, waiting. One in a suit. One dressed casually. Then two others just appeared. One was an Arcadian, so we think teleportation was used. The other was the victim. Alive at the time. Witness claims the guy in the suit said, ‘Thinking you could blow the lid off my operation just got you killed ’ and pulled the trigger on a pyre-gun.”