Dark Taste of Rapture (Alien Huntress #6)(86)
Author: Gena Showalter

So gracious.

As excited as she was by the thought of having her man in her house, in her bed, all night long, she was also scared for him. He already battled a ton of shame over his past, and the number of people he’d burned. Did he really think he would suffer no mental anguish this time around?

Afterward, he would remember the screams, the smells, and his fear for hurting Noelle would increase. All the progress she’d made with him would be defeated in a single night.

“Noelle,” he said, suddenly grave.

Suspicion arose, and her heart skipped a beat. “Yes?”

“What if I can’t ever touch you freely, as you need?” Suspicion confirmed. He’d already jumped to that thought path. Mouth drying, she peered over at him. He’d successfully cleared his features of any emotion, and she couldn’t read him. “Hector,” she said softly. “I’d rather have a conversation with you than have sex with someone else.” Truth.

His jaw clenched, as if he were biting down, but he didn’t say another word and neither did she.

Thirty-eight

HECTOR KNEW BETTER THAN to stay the night with Noelle. Did he have the will to resist her? Probably not. Knowing her, she’d come on strong. She always did, and that was just the way he liked her. Definitely not.

But then all she had to do was breathe and he’d grow hard for her. He craved her more than… hell, anything. And he loved her. Damn, did he love her.

His eyes widened. He did, he realized. He f**king loved her with every fiber of his being.

She was the loveliest woman he’d ever seen. She had a big heart, a smart mouth. She challenged him, lied to entertain herself, could be violent when the occasion called for it, but she was also fun, sparkling, and as vibrant as the summer sun.

The fact that she threw no judgment his way—for anything—still managed to baffle him. The fact that she sought to comfort and reassure him any time he panicked, more so.

He’d fallen for her, all the way, and knew she was more than an obsession now. She was his life. Her body was a perfect fit to his. Soft, warm, and wet. Her taste and scent were aphrodisiacs, her cries of passion a siren’s song. Uninhibited as she was, she would try anything he asked. And she would like it. Beg for more. And yet…

I’m so bad for her. In every way. So yes. He would resist her tonight. No matter how greatly his body suffered.

Come morning, she’d probably hate him. Another rejection would be more than she could endure. The way her family had spoken to her… When this case was closed, Hector would be paying her brothers a little visit, and they’d receive the same intensive care treatment Barry had. But no wonder Noelle was so insecure about how people viewed her.

Hector could deal with her hatred, though. He’d rather she loathed his very existence than feel the sting of his arms.

And if she hated him, she would avoid him. She would treat him like she treated most everyone else. As if he were unworthy of her time. Which he was. Wasn’t that what he’d pushed for since the beginning?

Yeah, but he’d kinda gotten used to her showing up wherever he was, throwing out come and get me glances, wearing scanty clothing, seducing him, saying outrageous things, making him laugh, never judging him, always defending him.

What if I never have that again?

Sweat beaded on his brow, panic for an altogether different reason pummeling him. Shit, he had to get himself together. Had to stay focused. He’d crumble before they even reached her house.

He’d guard her tonight, and that was all. In the morning they would visit the crime scene Dare had mentioned. Hector might even show up at Phillips’s office in a bid to spur the guy into action faster. That might earn him a bullet in the brain, as Noelle had suggested, but that was okay.

If Hector had to die taking Phillips down, so be it. No more abducted women. No more otherworlders sold into slavery. No more threats to Noelle.

The car eased to a stop, and Hector emerged but remained in his open doorway, performing a swift, visual perimeter check. Front door, shut. Porch lights, on. Windows, closed. No one hovered on the property, no suspicious shadows lurked about.

Noelle commanded her door to open, then exited, quiet and withdrawn. Why? He hadn’t even told her—

A menacing growl rang through the night. Hector shifted his attention just fast enough to see one of the Arcadians from the party appear out of nowhere, still in his tux, already barreling toward Noelle, something silver in his hand. Silver and sharp, glinting in the light seeping from her porch.

Oh, f**k no. With a roar, Hector dove over the hood of the car, sliding… sliding… praying he was able to shove her out of harm’s way, even if he had to take a killing blow himself.

The otherworlder reached her a split second before Hector did. Her instincts were well honed, and when the guy slammed into her, knocking her down, attempting to sink the blade into her kidney—a kill shot—she twisted and rolled, and Hector soared over them both.

He popped to his feet a heartbeat later, whipping around, rage red flickering in his line of vision. Rage red, and blood. Despite Noelle’s maneuver, the tip of the blade must have slicked over her dress and into her, because there were splatters of blood soaking the material to her waist. She held her side with one hand as she unfolded to a stand. In the other, she clutched a dagger of her own. It, too, was bloody.

She’d managed to stab the guy, and maybe that was why he hadn’t yet teleported away… why he was lumbering to a stand, stumbling from her, escaping the old-fashioned way.

“You okay?” Hector demanded, so damn furious he felt engulfed by flames. He hadn’t gotten to his woman in time. If she hadn’t reacted as she had, she would be dead. Could still die… that blood… his burning, itching hands began to singe through the material covering them.

“I’m good, I swear,” she said with surprising force. “Now go get him.”

Hector needed no other prompting. He propelled into motion, giving chase. This man. Had hurt. Noelle.

This man would die.

Didn’t take Hector long to catch up. He dove a second time, made contact. Both of them were flung into the huge oak in Noelle’s front yard before rolling to the ground.

Hector grabbed the guy by his jacket. Or tried to. His hands destroyed the rest of the gloves and ghosted straight through the man’s body, hitting the cold slab of dirt beneath him. The otherworlder spasmed once—then never moved again.

Against his forearm, Hector felt the sizzling of the guy’s heart. Knew the organ was in the process of cooking. He jerked free, the guy burning to ashes and scattering in the wind. That quickly.