Dark Taste of Rapture (13 page)

No reason to worry about the trainees. Ava would tackle whoever wanted outside and perform a total knockout. Besides, after this morning’s torture session, everyone was mentally and physically exhausted and more likely to die in their beds than get up to so much as pee.

Apparently the only way to learn how to interrogate your targets was to
be
interrogated. Also apparent, interrogation sometimes involved getting beaten to a pulp. Noelle’s ribs had stopped her instructor’s fist from slamming into the back of her chair, oh, about thirty times, and they were now probably cracked as hell.

Thanks to the nerve-frying procedure, those cracks hadn’t and wouldn’t bother her. Noelle wouldn’t even know if she were dying. In fact, the only time she ever knew something was wrong was by the bruising—she had that in spades right now—or if she passed out from blood loss.

Her father had thought he was doing her a favor, and yeah, maybe he had, but the process had inadvertently destroyed some of her pleasure receptors, too. Now a guy had to really work to give her an orgasm.

Would Hector be able to give her an orgasm?

She didn’t have to think about the answer. After that combustible kiss they’d shared, yeah. He would be able to give her one without trying.

Don’t think about that right now
. The mission was more important. Okay, so. She could either walk with purpose and risk enemy—aka instructor—capture and have to explain her presence, or crawl and risk
damaging her ribs further, possibly cutting into her lungs and not knowing it until she woke up in a hospital bed. Also, she’d ruin her pretty cotton T-shirt that way.

She’d walk, she decided. The T-shirt was a gift from Ava and read
Good Girls Need Spankings Too
.

To her relieved surprise, no one spotted her and she reached the cabin without incident. Another surprise, the window closest to her was open, allowing fresh air inside and noise outside. She propped her arms on the pane and leaned in. Sounds, so many sounds. Laughter, cheering, taunting, curses, beer slurping, glasses tinkling together.

No wonder the agents hadn’t paid any attention to possible infiltration. They surrounded a holoscreen and were watching a football game. Otherworlders had only been accepted into the NFL a few drafts ago, and no one had known what to make of that until after the first few games. Violence on the field had intensified, and so had the love of the fans.

Noelle had a profile view of everyone, and wow, Hector had the most wonderfully sloped nose, a little bump in the middle. Probably from being broken so many times. A girl could get ideas about that bump. Like kissing it all better.

“Damn, but Corban Blue is the best quarterback I’ve ever seen,” Dallas said after finishing off his beer and grabbing another from the cooler beside him. “He’s got an arm like a cannon. He throws and the ball just shoots to the receiver like it’s on a string and being tugged.”

Think of the past, and
boom
, it would fill your present.

Corban. An Arcadian with long white hair, eyes of the most brilliant violet, and the face of God’s favorite angel. Would Dallas (
cough
Hector
cough
) be shocked to know Noelle had dated him? That she and Corban had practically lived together once upon a time? Something they’d managed to keep out of the media. An easy trick when you owned a lot of the media outlets in your city.

“We should recruit him,” Hector said, slamming his glass into Dallas’s in some kind of parody of a toast. What long lashes he had, fanning out like a peacock’s tail feathers. “Imagine him tossing a target like that. With his perfect aim, he could have the body in the back of our cars without us ever having to take a step.”

Dallas whistled. “Goddamn, Agent Meanie. I like the way your mind works. Noelle must not have damaged your brain as much as we feared.”

Hector grinned. “Doctor asked me if I’d introed my face to the windshield of a Mack truck.”

A grin. A freaking grin. And there were dimples in his cheeks. Noelle barely stopped a dreamy sigh from leaving her. Mostly relaxed, a lot amused, the tension drained from him, he was beyond gorgeous. His golden eyes were bright, his lips plumped and red rather than thinned with displeasure.

“She was some kind of lucky, getting the drop on you like that,” Dallas said. “And you were some kind of stupid, letting her get the drop on you like that. She’s a cream puff, man.”

The urge to sigh vanished. She gnashed her teeth together. Maybe she shouldn’t have thrown so much fuel on the I’m-so-stupid fire. They’d had weeks to uncover her intelligence, or what she liked to consider intelligence, yet only Hector had questioned his initial impression? Come on!

“Hey,” Jaxon barked from the other side of the couch. “That’s my cousin. Show some respect.”

She noticed he didn’t defend her smarts, the bastard.

“You didn’t hear me say she has the IQ of a peanut, did you?
Anyway
.” Blue eyes flipped back to Hector, and those strong shoulders lifted in a give-a-guy-a-break shrug.

“So she’s still here?” Hector asked, and he sounded less than thrilled, if resolved.

This kept up, and her pretty white smile would be nothing but powder. Funny that when she came up in conversation, Hector’s mood instantly soured. He’d just rejected her again, yet this time she hadn’t had to say a single word to him.

“Yeah, and dude. Interrogation 101 was today, and you shoulda seen her.” Dallas finished off his second beer and tossed the glass where he’d tossed the first. On the floor.

Hector scrubbed a hand across his scalp. “Who ran the op?” His tattoos. The ink was darker than it’d been before he’d left, and there were more swirling designs on both arms. Odd, but her mouth watered for a taste of them.

“None of us could bring ourselves to do it, to hit her, you know, so we called in the girls. Phoenix was already here, but Siren and Kitten came to help.”

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.

N
OELLE 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.

He shook his head in exasperation. “So. How did you do it?”

Confused now, she merely blinked up at him. “Do what?”

“Sneak in the maid. You didn’t use the tunnel.”

Her eyes widened. “How do you know? I totally could have.”

He snapped his teeth at her. “How?”

She should lie. If he turned her in …

He won’t turn you in
.

How do you know? You heard him with Dallas—she’s still here, he said. He’s had it out for you since the beginning and wants you gone
.

He’ll recognize my skill. He’ll realize I’m an asset
.

Great, now she was talking to herself. “I overheard Dallas on the phone with you,” she admitted, watching his expression. There was no flash of surprise or pride. No flash of anything. “You guys were talking about how an Arcadian had popped into several different
hospital rooms, snagged a few ladies, and popped out with no one the wiser.”