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.”
The ticking increased in speed. “Go on.”
I’m not disappointed. “I have an Arcadian on my payroll and made a call.”
Still he didn’t react—but he did step closer to her. His night-wild scent enveloped her, seeping into her pores, forcing all of her thoughts on him—on getting even closer to him.
“Are you going to tattle on me?” she asked.
There were several beats of hesitation before he said, “No,” the admission seeming to astonish him.
Relief cascaded through her. She wouldn’t ask why. He might change his mind, the contrary brute. “So … any luck on your case?”
An abrupt shake of his head. He opened his mouth, and she suspected—hoped—he meant to tell her more about it, maybe even ask her opinion or thoughts, but he didn’t.
“Where have you been?” she asked, putting them on the right track. “You were supposed to come back at the first of the month.” Not that she’d asked around or anything.
“I was taking care of a few things.” His eyelids narrowed to tiny slits. “And the few things aren’t any of your business, so don’t ask.”
His lack of answer sent her mind into a tailspin. Had he been holed up with some skank he considered his intellectual equal? Working on that case and injured? Sick? “Do you want to know what I’ve been doing?” A husky note had entered her voice.
He stiffened. “I know what you’ve been doing. Causing trouble.”
Not. Disappointed. The men in her life never took her seriously, so why should Hector be any different? Even though he saw a bit deeper than everyone else. “We’ve interacted so little, and yet you already know me so well. I’m impressed. Really.”
He didn’t take the bait. “Tell me something, Noelle.” So seductively uttered, as if he were already in bed and crooking his finger at her. The change in him was breathtaking.
“All right,” she managed without trembling. Much. “What did you mean that day? When you said I was Ava’s?”
“Oh, that.” She waved a dismissive hand through the air. “Ava called dibs.”
His brow did that arching thing again. “Explain.”
“Short and sweet answer is, she gets to have sex with you and I don’t.” Was that a … pout in her voice? God, it was.
Breath hissed between Hector’s teeth, all hint of seduction gone. “I won’t be having sex with either of you.”
Ouch. Such certainty on his part. That annoyed her so much, she forced herself to airily say, “Well, of course you won’t be having sex with me. I just told you, I don’t have dibs on you. I have dibs on someone else.”
Silence. Heavy, oppressive silence.
“Who do you have dibs on?” he asked quietly. Savagely.
Jealously? “The very gorgeous Dallas. I just hope he doesn’t mind sharing me. I have an assembly line of men waiting for their turn with me.”
One step, two, Hector closed the rest of the distance between them, in her face once more. “Have you slept with him?” Still he used that quiet tone. Quiet, yet somehow lethal, cutting. “Is that who you were waiting for at the cabin?”
She wasn’t afraid of Hector, but she found herself backing away, anyway, until the cold brick-climbing wall stopped her. He was just so big, so masculine, unlike any man she’d ever met. She wasn’t exactly sure how to handle him. And he hadn’t responded to her lie about the assembly line.
He braced his hands beside her temples, effectively caging her in. God, she loved when he did that. Warm breath trekked down her cheeks, scented with mint. The lamps were a good distance away, yet she could see him perfectly, his face bathed in golds and whites.
“Noelle,” he snapped. “Answer me.”
“I thought you knew what I’d been up to. Therefore, you should know the answers to your questions already.”
“Don’t play. Talk.”
He was jealous. The knowledge filled her with such joy, the truth instantly spilled out of her. “No to both. I was waiting for you.”
Another round of silence, this one overflowing with promise. And yet his anger never faded.
“Let me give you a tip,” he said in that cutting tone. “Sleep with your instructors, and lose the respect of your peers.”
She ran her tongue over her lips, her own sense of anger growing. “What makes you think I care about respect? I’m so dumb I wouldn’t know the difference, anyway. Right?” Oops. Some of her bitterness had escaped.
“You’re not dumb. You might be the smartest person I’ve ever met.”
Shocking. “What makes you say that?”
“You continually convince people to believe what you want them to believe. That isn’t accidental.”
He so deserved a reward. She decided to press, to see how far he’d go with her. “What about one agent dating another agent, huh? Like, say, you and me. Is that acceptable?”
There. The reason she was here. She wanted to know where they stood, if the desire was mutual. He’d been jealous, yes, but you couldn’t base a relationship on jealousy alone.
Now you’re thinking about doing the relationship thing with him?
He glared down at her with an emotion she couldn’t read. Something hot, though … not anger, not any
longer. “You’re not an agent.”
“I will be.” Truth. She would continue to work hard, to push herself, and one day she would carry a badge. Save lives.
“When you’re an agent you can date whoever the hell you want,” he said with a potent mix of hope and loathing. “Anyone except me. I don’t date women, Noelle. Ever.”
Her breaths came fast and shallow, yet every single one brushed her pebbled nipples against his chest. The friction speared lance after lance of pleasure through her. Hot, tingling, all-consuming.
“Men, then?” No, please, no.
“No.”
Thank God.
“I don’t date, period.”
Oh. “Then …” She chewed on her bottom lip, pondering the dilemma he’d just created, but no answers were forthcoming. “What?” she managed to get out, unsure how to phrase her next question.
“What do I do when I need to get off?” he asked, even as he rubbed the hard, thick length of his erection between her legs, just as he’d done the last time they were in this position.
Was he doing that on purpose, urging her need for him higher, simply to leave her? Or, like her, was he acting on instinct?
Having trouble filling her lungs with oxygen, she nodded.
“I used to pay for it. Does that shock your privileged sensibilities? Offend you? And stop nibbling on your mouth.” He leaned down and sank his own teeth into the sensitive tissue. Not enough to sting, just enough to stake a claim.
Oh, God. He was a biter. She really wished she hadn’t learned that fact. No doubt she’d start fantasizing about those teeth claiming all of her.
Claiming …
Have to … touch him …
“No response?” he demanded.
She flattened her hands on his chest. His pectorals jumped up in response, flexing.
“Noelle.” A snarl.
What had he asked? Oh, yeah. The prostitutes. “It confuses me.” His intensity probably scared a lot of women away, but it would draw some, too. There was no reason for him to pay for what he wanted. “You kissed me, and I liked it. You shouldn’t have to—”
Wait. He’d said used to, hadn’t he? What did he do now?
“Too bad,” he snapped. “I won’t explain.”
“Will you tell me if you liked kissing me?”
Such a tortured expression. “Yes. No. Damn it, it doesn’t matter. We can’t do it again.”
Oh, really? “Challenge accepted,” she purred, already rising on her tiptoes.
He opened his mouth, maybe to tell her off, maybe to welcome her inside, but either way, she rolled her tongue over his lips.
An agonized moan left him, and just like before the kiss immediately spun out of control. Their teeth banged together, and they both angled for deeper, better contact. He tasted sweet, decadent, and she thought she might already be addicted.
She gave him everything she had, feeding him kiss after kiss, conforming her body to his, kneading the muscles at his back. Pleasure rocketed through her, and she arced against him again and again, tossing fuel on her own need because, with every forward glide, her clitoris brushed against him.
This was far better than the first kiss, and that had been spectacular. But she knew more about him now. Wanted more of him. Had dreamed of this, night after night.
“Hector, touch me. Please.” Knead her breasts, pinch her nipples. Give her more.
The rock wall behind her shook … shook …
“Hector. Please.” She slid a hand down his chest, to the waist of his pants. So long and thick, his erection strained past the material, the tip already weeping for her. Mine, she thought. This is mine.
He wrenched his mouth away with a roar. “Damn it!” Still he ground that erection against her, and she closed her fingers around it as best she could. “I can’t do this!”
His skin was like a lick of flame, blasting heat at her. Little beads of sweat broke out on her brow. She loved it, wanted more. Wanted it to be hotter. “Lift my shirt. Suck my nipples.”
“Shit! Are you listening to me?” he snarled. “Do I have your full attention?”
“Yes.” Yes, yes, yes. She could feel his heartbeat, pounding against her other palm.
“Good.” The rubbing ceased abruptly, and she moaned. “I told you before not to seek me out. Now I’m telling you not to even speak to me. Not to even look at me. And I’ll extend you the same courtesy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted from you, Noelle.” With that, he straightened, severing all contact, and walked away.
Walked away from her. Again.
He never glanced back.
What. The. Hell? She’d suspected, but …
Noelle rested against the wall, her knees weak, her blood on fire, with fury … with passion … She’d wanted his mouth on hers, taking, giving, ravaging. She’d wanted to relearn his taste—and not just from his mouth—wanted to hear him groan as the pressure became too much for him, too.
And all along, he’d merely thought to prove a point. To humiliate her.
To force her into avoiding him.
Well, he’d get his wish, she thought. She wouldn’t spend another moment craving him. She wouldn’t even allow herself to think about him. They were done. Before they’d ever really started, they were done.
His loss.
Squaring her shoulders, determined, Noelle returned her weight to her feet. She spun, would have marched back to the bunk, but a thick waft of smoke, scented with burned syn-cotton and spiced with molten metal, danced in front of her face. She gazed around, searching for the source.
Not her this time, but the wall. Two perfect handprints had been burned into the brick. Big hands, a man’s hands. Exactly where Hector had placed his.
Gulping, confused, she reached out and ran a finger over the indented stone. She hissed at the moment of contact. Though she didn’t feel the sting, she knew the metal was hot enough to blister her skin.
So, the marks were fresh. But … how was that possible?
Her gaze returned to Hector. Or rather, to where he’d once been. He was gone now, no sign of him in the darkness. Was he … could he be an otherworlder capable of flaming objects with only a touch? Even though he appeared one hundred percent human?
Maybe. Many races possessed special abilities that their human counterparts did not. She’d always embraced those differences, and she would have embraced Hector’s, if he’d given her a chance.
But he hadn’t. By his own admission, he’d rather pay for sex from a nameless stranger than have Noelle for free. So, he would get his wish, she thought again. She would leave him alone.
A stray, torturous thought formed. One day they were going to have to work together, and she’d have to act cool, collected, as if this night had never transpired. And really, that should be easy to do. Ultimately, the men in her life always found something wrong with her. So, in that regard, Hector was no different than the rest. He’d simply been more upfront about it than the others.
I’m fine. This is fine. She’d suspected they wouldn’t suit, and he’d proven her right. No big deal. Except her chin wobbled and her eyes blurred with tears. Shit. She never cried! Why here? Why now? Why over him?
The answer didn’t matter. Like every time before, she stuffed her hurt deep inside and pasted an unconcerned smile on her face. She strolled back to the bunkhouse, to Ava, the only other constant in her life.
Twelve
A year later
HURRY, HURRY, DAMN IT, hurry.
Though Noelle had only been an AIR agent for a few weeks, she already had one successful case under her belt. A case Ava was now engaged to marry, but whatever. Noelle couldn’t think about that.
Her second case was currently sprinting down the wealthy side of Main.
Midday, on a nice, cool Saturday, the sidewalks were crowded with clueless shoppers and the otherworlder servants carrying their bags. The same species of otherworlders she’d spotted so long ago on the other side of town, only these were dressed in crisp, c
lean uniforms.
The shops were high end and pristine, the cafes sparkling with activity, their outside tables shielded by large umbrellas. This was the atmosphere she was used to. The perp busted through the crowds and toppled the tables, leaving chaos in his wake, forcing Noelle to push and shove her way after him, all while leaping over shattered glass, dropped purses, and slippery food.
Hector Dean was working this case, too. Not with her. Never that. In fact, they hadn’t really spoken to each other since that night at camp. But Mia Snow, the new official head of AIR, had informed all agents to be on the alert for a white minivan with tinted windows.
Apparently, an anonymous tip had promised the van would be carrying three otherworlder females who’d been abducted from their homes. As that same anonymous tipster had never before been wrong, Mia had taken him—her?—seriously.
And ten minutes ago, Noelle had spotted the van and called in the plates.
Hector had barked over the radio: This is mine, Tremain. Stay back, but maintain a visual. I’m on my way.
As if.
Yeah, he was invested in the case. He’d worked it a year ago, but the whole thing had been iced when no new clues surfaced, the recovered girls vanished without a trace, and no other kidnappings occurred. (That they’d known of.) The tips had stopped, too. Then, two days ago that minivan info had come in, as if there’d never been a lag, and well, now things were back on.
Have to beat him, have to beat him, damn it, have to beat him.
The driver had realized she was on his tail, threw on the brakes, and abandoned the vehicle right there in the center of the road. There’d been no time to check on the women, so Noelle had sprinted after him while at the same time radioing in about the new development.
Agents were probably at the van now. Hector wouldn’t have stopped there, though. A bruiser at heart, he would have followed the commotion and come after the driver. Like her.
Have to beat him!
Perp was a scrawny human in his mid thirties—and thereby unstunnable. He was also out of shape. Was now slowing, taking the corners with less vigor. No longer throwing stuff or people in her way. I’ll have him yet.
Dark Taste of Rapture Page 10
