Dark Taste of Rapture (Alien Huntress 6)

“Well, that’s good because I can’t feel any. Pain, I mean. I don’t have any working receptors,” she said. “That’s my secret. That my father paid to have them fried.”

A burst of confusion in his eyes, then anger. “You were altered?” he demanded. “Surgically? Why?”

“In case I was kidnapped again.”

A cold wash of horror. “Again?”

He’d trusted her; now she would trust him. As promised. “Yes. Again. For ransom. The kidnappers told my father they’d kill me if he went to the police or if the media found out, but that wasn’t why he kept things quiet. If no one knew, no one would miss the men responsible.”

“Go on,” he gritted.

“My dad paid good money for my release, but by then, I’d been a captive for three days and two nights.”

“How old were you?”

“I had just turned twelve. Anyway, to get their point across, the kidnappers hurt me, on camera, and sent the videos to my father. A new video each day. They made the mistake of thinking him a simple businessman. Truth was, he’d worked for the shadier side of the government most of his life, as only a rich man can. He had connections and resources and in the end was able to travel all over the world without suspicion and do terrible things with no one the wiser.”

“Good.”

After he’d gotten Noelle back, he’d savagely killed the men who’d held her.

Only then, in an effort to be proactive, had he had his doctors screw with her nerve endings. That had hurt far worse than any torturing the kidnappers had done. So no, nothing Hector could do would cause her a moment of pain.

“Your dad loved you,” he said.

Sadness flickered in her chest. “He loved the idea of me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Doesn’t matter.” She wiggled against him, her hunger for him returning full force. “Let’s get back to the good stuff.”

His eyes narrowed. “You may not feel the pain, sweetheart, but I could still do some damage.” Comprehension blazed with lightning sharpness. “And now I realize you wouldn’t know if I was causing damage until it was too late. We should stop,” he added. “Before this goes any further.”

“No!” Like a dog that refused to relinquish her new chew toy, she dug her claws into his chest. “Stay.”

“I want to, I do. I like spending time with you—when I’m not battling rampant lust for you. God knows, I want you all the damn time. And I care about you, like I said, but I will not hurt you. I won’t let myself.”

He more than craved her. He cared about her.

He liked spending time with her.

The knowledge affected her. Deeply. How strong he was, to resist his own needs. How sweet he was, to protect others from what he could do. But she felt the same about him—she cared, she liked—and she wasn’t going to let him shove her aside and keep her at a distance. Even though she was now scared, too.

“What about tying you up?” she asked. Anything. She would try anything to be with him. And a little bondage? Nice.

Shock flared in his eyes, that she so easily accepted, but it quickly dissolved in the face of regret. “I burn through rope.”

“Chains?”

“Melt them.”

Ouch. “What do you do with the hookers?”

A blaze of shame. “You don’t need to know.”

Did he think her desire for him would wane? “Tell me anyway. You know I’ll press until you do.” His expression remained stubborn; so, once again she pricked at his pride. “Remove your tampon and tell me, Hector. I’ve pursued you, I’ve won you, and now I deserve to know.”

He snapped his teeth at her, reminding her of the times he’d bitten her. “They get on their knees and blow me,” he snarled. “Happy now? Last time was over a year ago. And before you ask, I’m not letting you do that to me.”

Over a year ago. So telling, whether he meant it to be or not. Tenderness filled her. She thought for a moment. Then she said, “All right. So you won’t let me blow you. What will you let me do to you, Hector? Because you’re not leaving this room until we’re both sated.”

Twenty-two

HECTOR PEERED DOWN AT the woman splayed underneath him, the woman studying him with an intensity and longing that floored him. She was addictive in so many ways. Her ever-changing scent—now jasmine and honey. Her always decadent taste—sugar and spice. But this … this was where the true danger lay. The way she looked at him. As if he were beautiful. As if he were strong, valiant, sexy … worthy.

When compared to her, he was none of those things. Hell, when compared to a piece of lint, he was none of those things. The fact that he and Noelle were so damn different hadn’t changed. She was energy, a kaleidoscope of colors. He was linear, a bold black and white.

Yet, throughout their sexually charged conversation, she hadn’t seemed to notice, or maybe she just hadn’t cared, that he belonged in a different world. Desire had—and did—thrum from her in sultry waves, increasing his own.

And now he knew they had something in common. A shitty childhood. Once Hector had assumed she’d never known pain or suffering. Stupid of him. She’d been kidnapped, tortured, then tortured again when she returned home. This beautiful, sexy creature had been made to scream with something other than pleasure. Never f**king again, he vowed. He would guard her, from afar if necessary.

“Why do you want me?” he asked, truly confused. He was a bad bet, no matter from what angle she studied this. And he knew she wasn’t just leading him on or hoping for a temporary distraction. She could find that anywhere, with anyone, with a lot more ease and zero threat. Example: Dallas.

The thought alone nearly caused Hector to rip the silk covers at her temples into shreds.

“You fascinate me,” she admitted.

Slowly he relaxed. On that front, at least, they were even. No one had ever fascinated him more than this—what had he once called her?—slice of elegance.

“Your intensity … I wonder, all the time, what it will be like, having every bit of it focused on me.”

Curiosity too, then. How disappointing. Enough to make him walk away, though? No. Just then, he doubted anything could. She was soft beneath him, and though only their legs were touching, he could feel the heat of her. Could she feel the heat of him?

“I never noticed this until today, but your face displays every emotion you’re feeling, in the minutest degree,” she said. “Disenchantment, anger, arousal. I don’t know why you felt the first two a moment ago, but I want you to listen to me. I’ve only had one serious boyfriend in my life, and only two sexual partners. One of which doesn’t count.”