Dark Taste of Rapture (Alien Huntress #6)(62)
Author: Gena Showalter

Soon conversation began to lag. Then, of course, awkward silence reigned, no one wanting to look in her direction. She was extra, unwanted baggage. Whatever. I don’t care.

Noelle wasn’t letting Hector out of her sight. For the case, of course.

“You better answer this, genius, or I’ll kick your ass!” Ava’s voice suddenly belted out.

“Ava’s here?” Devyn frowned, searching the room for a sign of her.

“You explain it to him,” Noelle told Hector. “I need to take this.” Without leaving the room, and knowing she was rude as hell, she fit the cell against her ear. “Tremain here, goddess extraordinaire.”

“You’re pregnant.” A flat statement, not a question, and crackling with so much rage Noelle was surprised her mother hadn’t already combusted. “With an otherworlder’s child, at that. An otherworlder who is also a football player person.”

Football player person was said with the same disgust one might expect to hear malignant cancer. Her mother was the biggest freaking human elitist on this planet or any other. “Mother, how many times do I have to tell you? You can’t believe what you read.”

A hopeful pause. “You’re not pregnant?” What her mother didn’t say but implied: Thank God.

A laugh escaped her. “I do have a bun in the oven, yes.” And it had been glazed with honey and sugar, butter melted over the top. “I’m just not sure who the father is. And, to be honest, I’m in a meeting with three of the other candidates, so can we save this conversation for after the paternity test?”

Another pause, this one heavy, crackling again. “You don’t know who the father is? That’s disgusting and idiotic, Noelle, even for you. How dare you embarrass the family like this! Your brothers are flying home. I’ve had to cancel my cocktail party. How far along are you? Is it too late to—”

“Thanks, Mom,” she said cheerily. “Knew you’d understand.” Click.

Okay, that had felt good.

All three males were watching her, their moods somehow suddenly lightened.

“That was an interesting one-sided conversation,” Hector said, a gleam entering those luscious ocher eyes and chasing away a few of the shadows that constantly seemed to swirl inside.

“Sucks for you that I won’t give you a play-by-play.” You don’t deserve it.

“You better answer this, genius, or I’ll kick your ass!”

Another call? Groaning, she flashed her middle finger in a bid for one sec of silence. Then she placed the phone to her ear and tuned everyone out. “Tremain here.”

“You’re pregnant?” Jaxon demanded without preamble.

“Of course not,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

“Who’s the—oh. What?”

“We just needed the press to keep their rabid hunger for a story away from our case.” Bothered her that Jaxon hadn’t known that right off the bat. Like her mother and brothers, he still saw her as that flaky little girl, yet he’d spent the past year hovering over her shoulder.

Well, you still feed that image. Can you blame him?

Yes! Hector had seen through it. Why couldn’t anyone else?

And I’m still not softening toward him. “Just don’t tell my mother. She’ll alert the press en masse.”

“All right.” Jaxon’s chuckle slithered over the line. “You want me to throw fuel on the fire? Maybe have Corban come in?”

“Actually, tell my brothers that Corban refused to marry me, and that they should really let him have it, defend my honor, that kind of thing. That’ll keep the vultures happy for quite a while. Oh, and they should let Corban have it in person rather than on the phone so he’ll forever understand how he’s wronged the Tremain name.” Call waiting beeped. Damn it. She was changing her number. “Listen, I’ve got to go.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of your brothers.”

Click.

Tune-in. Dallas opened his mouth to say something.

One sec. Tune-out. “Tremain,” she said into the mouthpiece. Maybe Jaxon wasn’t such a bad cousin, after all.

“What’s this bullshit about Corban Blue being the father of your fake baby?” Ava demanded.

See? Ava hadn’t needed to be told. Ava just knew.

“I thought you were lusting after Hector Dean,” her friend went on. “And don’t try to deny it, because I noticed the way you eye-raped him at the wedding. Why didn’t you pick him?”

“Oh my God, I have missed you and your slappable mouth so much!” Noelle’s chest constricted tightly. They’d seen each other just yesterday, texted constantly, but still. “And to answer your question, hardly. He doesn’t deserve me.”

At that, Hector scowled. Oops. Her tuned-out had failed this go-round. Just to be irritating, she pinky waved at him with her free hand.

Smoke curled from the tops of the gloves. Smoke that did not contain the slightest trace of nicotine. His hands … flaring up …

Dangerous, she thought. To Ava, she said, “Hang on,” and got a lot of sputtering in return. “You should probably take a breather, Hector.” Hint, hint. “Maybe go outside, cool down.”

He gave an abrupt shake of his head. “I’ll be fine.”

He would know best, but … She didn’t like this. Can’t question him here and now. “So have you done the deed yet?” she asked Ava, keeping her eye on Hector.

Silence.

“Hey, you. Tiny tot,” she added so that only Ava could hear. She didn’t want anyone else calling her friend by that nickname. Then she added more loudly, “I’m talking to you.”

“Me?” Ava asked. “It’s my turn now for your exalted notice?”

“Yes.” Hector had mentioned strong emotion caused the flare-ups, but what had set him off and why? “You’re so lucky.”

“That’s true. So here’s the other reason I called. I’m happy to say that forty-three minutes ago, I drank McKell’s blood.”

“But?” Though panic immediately clawed at Noelle’s skull—losing Ava, officially losing Ava now—she forced herself to remain outwardly calm.

“But I don’t feel any different.”

She caught a hint of concern in her friend’s voice, something she didn’t hear very often. She pushed to her feet. One last, lingering glance at Hector—he was watching her through narrowed lids—and she gave the guys her back.