Dark Taste of Rapture Read online

  That’s my girl. So, while Noelle’s peers snoozed and snored, and while the agents zoned out in front of a plasma screen, she snuck out of camp.

  Midweek, she’d found an escape hatch on premises. Her dad had been an intelligence agent for the government as well as a businessman, and he’d taught her that Plan B’s were a necessity. So, while it was smart of AIR to have a place for trainees to go if otherworlders attacked, they should have hidden it better than underneath the back porch of the trainee bunk, with only a thin layer of dirt covering the lid.

  Why not just hang a sign overhead that flashed the words Party Through Here.

  Noelle had to shimmy underneath the wooden porch slats, streaking her bare arms and legs with the dirt, and ended up inhaling a mouthful of granules, but … Worth it. No one had used the thing in years, as proven by the rusty hinges. The air inside was musty and coated with dust.

  Fortunately, the long, narrow tunnel had everlasting bulbs posted on the rounded ceiling, providing a well-lit path for anyone who walked. Or … drove? Hells yeah! There were three small go-carts lined up and ready to shoot into action.

  I must have died and gone to heaven. Noelle climbed into the car at the head of the line. Voice activation and thumbprint ID had been disabled. Probably because the AIR agents who came to camp varied greatly. So all she had to do was turn the key already resting in the ignition.

  The engine roared to life loudly, making her cringe and pray no one inside the overhead bunk heard. She waited a moment, expecting someone to peel back the lid, but … no.

  Grinning, she pressed the gas, and boom, shot into motion, speeding down the tunnel, twisting, turning, the blasts of air lifting her hair from her shoulders and winding the strands together.

  Take that, Hector Dean. Not that she was thinking about him.

  Exhilaration pumped through her blood. She’d so needed this, every fiber of her being crying out for something that would fulfill her and quench the constant hunger for more. In fact, she would have to find a way to win another night off. Ava had to see this.

  Even better, Ava had to race her.

  Twenty minutes later the tunnel ended abruptly. A wall of brick with a dilapidated wooden staircase hanging in the center loomed ahead. Noelle slammed on the brakes, barely missing a lethal smash. She laughed out loud. Fun.

  After shutting off the car, she climbed the steps, picked the lock of the new hatch, and shoved the heavy metal aside. Cool night wind blustered as she peeked out. Two graffiti-covered buildings at her sides. They were several yards apart, with a dark abandoned alley in the center, leading straight to—

  New Chicago’s Main.

  Rock on.

  She climbed the last step and shimmed to a stand, then closed the lid and gaped. Wow. Anyone who walked this alley would see cracked concrete, nothing more.

  Urgency riding her, she grabbed the lipstick from her pocket—a girl had to be prepared for anything—and marked the rim, then tossed the now-contaminated gloss in a nearby trash bin.

  Her exit strategy taken care of, Noelle practically skipped from the alley. She made sure to note the shops. One a twenty-four-hour photo. The other an abandoned, crumbling crack house. Quaint.

  She also made a mental note to inquire about buying both buildings. She could fix the alley, maybe turn it into a garden-type area, then run goods and services through the tunnel at her discretion.

  What a day!

  Cars whizzed along the road. Bikes and scooters, too. Despite the late hour, crowds had yet to thin on this poorer side of town. Humans and otherworlders traipsed the sidewalks, talking, laughing, shopping. She spotted a few Arcadians, the race known for white hair that couldn’t be dyed, the ability to teleport, and in some cases, the ability to use mind control.

  A group of Terans, a very cat-like species, with pointed ears, spotted skin, and feline grace. One Mec, tall and thin, with skin that glowed different colors with different emotions. And two Deleseans, with six arms and azure skin that kind of reminded her of whale blubber.

  One day I’ll be policing these people. A surreal thought. Noelle had always been the troublemaker. So, arresting others for breaking the law? Kinda seemed wrong.

  Maybe that’s why Hector kept pushing her so intently. Maybe he doubted her capability and integrity, as she’d first assumed, and thought to mold her into something better.

  You don’t need improvement.

  And you’re not thinking about him.

  Deep breath in, filled with the scents of corn dogs—her mouth watered—car exhaust and perfumes, as well as faint traces of dirt and … other things. Towering lamps lined the streets, and the shop signs pulsed. Live Nude Girls. World’s Best Coffee. A Toys R Us right beside a Hooters. The moon was full, a shining beacon of gold.

  “Hey, darlin’,” someone called. “How much for an hour?”

  He better not be talking to me.

  “Hey, you, in the red shorts. I’ll take whatever you’re selling, no matter the price.”

  Yep. Me. The only clothes she’d had were for working out. Right now she sported a red tank and matching too-tight shorts. Streaked by dirt as she was, she probably looked like she spent a lot of time on her knees and back. Plus, her hair was tangled, as if someone had plowed their fingers through one too many times.

  Someone had, of course, but that someone was her.

  Noelle didn’t bother searching for the guy, just threw a finger in the direction of his voice and kept walking.

  “Bitch!”

  His friends snickered.

  Yeah, yeah. Took her fifteen minutes, but she finally found a candy store. A bell chimed above the door when she entered. Ava would flip out of her mind when Noelle presented her with a butterscotch breakfast in bed.

  Stray thought: Who served Hector breakfast in bed?

  Noelle’s teeth ground together sharply. The answer didn’t matter. Hector was her instructor, nothing more. Not once had he ever acted as if he found her attractive.

  “Can I help you?” the guy behind the counter asked.

  She sized him up with a single glance. Human. Late forties. Comb-over, sugar gut. He wore a white apron and earned major points for cleanliness.

  The store itself was small, with three display cases and nothing in the way of furniture. Definitely needed a new business manager. There were no couches for customers to sit on so they could chat and eat more and more of the candy. No tables offering samples and free alcohol to encourage unwise spending, as she was used to.

  “What do you have in the butterscotch department?” she asked.

  “Not much.” He thumped a finger on the glass at his right, just above a plate of what looked to be fudge squares. “Just these.”

  “I’ll take them.”

  One of his brows winged into a stray lock falling down his forehead. “One or—”

  “All.”

  Cash signs practically glowing in his eyes, he got to work, wrapping the squares individually and stacking them carefully in a small box.

  The bell over the door gave another chime. The server glanced up, said, “I’ll be with—” then snapped his mouth closed and gulped with apprehension. His bloated cheeks paled. “Uh, just a second, please.”

  Robber? Thug? Noelle spun around—and came face-to-face with her tormentor.

  Hector Dean stood in the doorway, wearing a black T-shirt that molded to his muscles and black slacks that hugged his thighs indecently. He scowled over at her, his golden eyes glittered brightly. His arms were folded over his chest, and his legs braced apart, as if he meant to leap into an attack at any moment.

  Oh … shit.

  Four

  NOELLE,” HE SAID TIGHTLY, his voice full of gravel.

  “Hector.” What did it say about her that she was aroused rather than scared? He looked capable of murder, his hard features cold and merciless, but damn if he wasn’t sexy as all hell.

  Maybe because he wasn’t yelling at her.

  Yet.

  “
What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded.

  “Buying a few sweet treats.” Her heart sped into a too-swift rhythm. I will not come on to him. “How did you find me?”

  “Should I, uh, call the cops?” the server said from behind her.

  “He is a cop,” she mumbled.

  Frost appeared in Hector’s eyes, a snowstorm of menace. “You think AIR doesn’t monitor that tunnel? You think they’d place a hatch in town and not watch it? You were tailed the second you hit the alley, and I was notified.”

  The crack house, she thought. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why hadn’t she considered the possibility of cameras and alarms? Had she wanted to be caught? And why hadn’t she sensed the tail?

  “That’ll be, uh, twenty-one seventy,” the server said now.

  The frost thickened in Hector’s eyes, his spine stiffened.

  Nibbling on her bottom lip, she dug her ultra-thin money card from her pocket, flashed it in front of the scanner and added a twenty-dollar tip.

  A bright smile full of yellowing teeth. “Thank you, thank you so much.”

  “Welcome.” She grabbed the box and returned her attention to Hector.

  He hadn’t moved from his command post at the entrance, probably assuming she wouldn’t try to fight her way out, or that she would plead for mercy he wouldn’t show. As if! She raised her chin. “You kicking me out of the program or what?”

  If he does, I will have failed Ava. Her stomach somersaulted, acid tumbling around like clothes in an enzyme washer. I can’t fail Ava.

  He popped his jaw before reaching back and shoving open the door. With a tilt of his chin, he motioned her out. Well, well. He must not want a witness to what would happen next.

  The acid burned a path up her chest. Still, Noelle strapped an imaginary iron rod to her back and marched into the night. She didn’t look back to be sure Hector followed, and she didn’t wait for him, either. She headed back the same way she’d come, not bothering to move out of the way as pedestrians approached; she simply barreled past them.

  The streetlamps suddenly seemed too bright, the roaring car engines and inane chatter too loud.

  Hector caught up with her quickly enough, his booted feet stomping into the concrete. “I take my job seriously, you know,” he began.

  O-kay. Not the direction she’d anticipated. “Why?”

  A crackling pause. “Did you really just ask me why?”

  “Yes.” Not to be facetious or anything, but because she was curious about him.

  “I stop predatory aliens from hurting others,” he gritted out. “I save lives.”

  And didn’t that just make him even sexier? she thought with a wistful sigh.

  “Why do you want to be an agent?” he asked. “And don’t give me that bullshit about wanting to shoot people legally.”

  So Jaxon had told him about that.

  Hector went on, “I believed it before, but I’ve seen the way you push yourself.”

  He’d seen—and been impressed? She wouldn’t get her hopes up on that front. “To be honest, I just want to spent more time with Ava.” No reason to lie. If AIR had decided to can her, she would be canned, no matter what she said.

  A beat of silence. Most likely her bluntness had stunned him. That happened a lot. With her family, her friends, everyone but Ava. “Well,” he finally said, “your reason sucks, and it won’t get you anywhere.”

  “Why would a girl like me want or need to get anywhere?” she asked, only the slightest trace of bitterness escaping.

  “Don’t do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “That girl like me crap. You’ve got determination and drive, and you should be proud of it, not masking it with sarcasm.”

  Hector Dean had just … praised her. She was dreaming. She had to be dreaming. “Are you saying I’d … make a good agent?”

  Another beat of silence, as if he had to gather his thoughts. And that was answer enough, wasn’t it.

  Knew better than to ask. Also, good thing she hadn’t gotten her hopes up.

  “I’m saying you need to think long and hard about whether or not you’re right for this,” he said. “It’s hard and it’s dirty.”

  Even as she fought the urge to punch him in the face for implying she couldn’t handle something like that, she forced her voice to go low and husky. “Hmm, hard and dirty. Just how I like my sex.”

  He tripped over nothing and, scowling, hurried to right himself. “A few weeks ago, we found a storage unit with three otherworlder females trapped inside. They had been taken as prisoners, were malnourished, and near death. Is that something you can handle?”

  Yeah, she could. She could handle anything. Rather than answer him, however, she asked a question of her own. “What happened to them?”

  “We set them free, got them medical care. Now they’re on the mend, both mentally and physically.”

  Ire rose on behalf of the females. “You catch whoever put them there?”

  “Not yet, but we will.”

  The words held a promise, a vow to avenge the weak. His sexiness factor jacked up a few more notches, and she shivered. “You really love your job. I mean, you more than take it seriously.”

  “Of course.” He sound astonished that she’d think otherwise. “It’s my life,” he added.

  Like Ava was hers. Fancy that—they had something in common. Both of them cared about something more than they cared about themselves. I will not admire him.

  They turned a corner. A split second later, Hector slammed his shoulder into hers, shoving her into a shadowed brick wall in an abandoned alley. Gasping in astonishment, the touch catching her off guard, she lost her hold on the candy box. Splat. The bottom busted and the contents spilled out onto dirty concrete.

  Oh, gross. There went Ava’s surprise.

  “Hey! That was uncalled for, you—”

  A growling Hector got in her face, putting them nose-to-nose. He glared down at her as the heat of his breath fanned against her, caressing her despite his obvious anger. “You should be kicked out for this little adventure. If I had my way, you would be kicked out, effective immediately.”

  And I should knee you in the balls. “I didn’t do anything wrong,” she snapped, keeping her knee to herself. She hadn’t been this close to a man in a long time. And that the one so close to her was Hector, a brute who shouldn’t appeal to her but did … her stomach fluttered with hot flames of arousal. Her nipples tightened beneath the fabric of her bra, abrading deliciously.

  He pressed closer to her, caging her completely.

  Suddenly she had trouble catching her breath. Her gaze lowered to his mouth, and her survivalist fantasy came roaring back to life. Just then, Hector was the epitome of danger, a man who saved the day and demanded his due. A man who took what he wanted, damn the consequences.

  What would he taste like? How would his strong body feel moving on—in—hers?

  His pupils flared, black overshadowing gold. Had she somehow given her thoughts away?

  “You disobeyed orders, Noelle. You put the entire camp in jeopardy. How is that not doing anything wrong?”

  A spark of anger ignited, burning away the fear of being found out, but somehow increasing the arousal. “I get the order thing, but how did I jeopardize the camp?” I want to bite him. Claw him. The good kind of biting and clawing.

  “What if an enemy had seen you exit that hatch? He could next blow up the buildings around it, then sneak through the tunnel, no one the wiser, everyone too consumed with the outside chaos. Should I go on?”

  The anger drained, a guilty flush heating her cheeks. I want him to bite and claw me. “You’re right. I’m sorry,” she said, and she meant it.

  He slapped his hands at her temples, and pressed the rest of the way in, his lower body brushing against hers. For the second time in her life, she felt small and feminine. “You play the role of airhead damn well, but I’ve got your number now, honey.”

  Panic momentarily overshadowed her
desire and guilt. “And what’s my number?” He couldn’t know. He just couldn’t. She didn’t want him to know. “One eight hundred LOVE BUNNY?”

  She’d always taken a perverse kind of pleasure in throwing fuel on the she’s so silly expectation. And yes, that pleasure was a double-edged sword because no one ever saw the real Noelle. No one ever experienced pride for her or in her. No one ever laughed with her. Always they laughed at her.

  Time and time again, she could have proven everyone wrong, could have laughed at them. One thought had always stopped her: What if they didn’t like the real Noelle, either?

  What if Hector had learned all about her, as he claimed, but found her lacking anyway?

  “The others think you lucked out tonight,” he said on a ragged exhalation, “but in all the years of camp, you’re the only trainee to ever successfully sneak away. I think you knew to look for that hatch. I think you knew exactly what you were doing.”

  He suspected, but he didn’t know. Part of her was relieved. The other part of her was disappointed. “Poor Hector, thinking he’s right when he’s so obviously wrong. Didn’t Jaxon tell you all about my life choices? About how childish I am. How frivolous. Of course I didn’t know what I was doing. I dropped a bracelet and crawled to get it.” A high-pitched giggle. “That’s how I found the hatch.”

  His eyelids slitted, the long length of his lashes fusing together. Such pretty lashes, she mused. Better suited for a woman, and yet, they were gorgeous on him. Perfect.

  “Jaxon didn’t tell us shit. We like to form our own opinions. And you didn’t bring any bracelets to camp. Try again.”

  Double shocker. Jaxon had kept his mouth closed, and Hector had noticed her lack of jewelry. That meant he’d paid attention, studied her. I just plain want him. Really, truly want him.

  “My big, bad instructor thinks he’s got me all figured out, huh?” She’d meant to taunt him. The huskiness of her voice merely revealed a lingering craving for him. She’d probably been on low simmer for him since the moment she’d met him.