Playing with Passion Theta Series Book 1 (13 page)

Axis power looped back and forth
between them, pinking up the skin on her arms and probably her
face. Even though her nipples had turned hard and achy, her body
tingling with desire, she understood this connection was more than
a sexual one. If only they could trust enough to drop their
shields, to lay their souls bare before the other.

His fingers moved over her hand in a
restless way as his gaze took in her eyes, her mouth, her neck.
"You’re so lovely; I’m finding it difficult to breathe.” He
chuckled at his own declaration, “I’m seventeen again when I’m with
you.” His gaze had lowered to her chest.

She smiled and scanned his body. "You
want me."

“Since that first ride from the
airport, despite my practical nature chiming in with all sorts of
dire warnings.” Ingrid giggled, a sound she almost didn't recognize
and Mack continued, smiling warmly back. "But first you need to
explain what it is you’re trying to accomplish with all this
experimentation. If you can’t trust me with the truth, we have
nothing.”

Mack suggested that the small duck
pond offered the perfect seclusion. He led the way, sitting on a
bench dedicated to a past patron of the harbor and patting the seat
beside him. Mack relaxed, his arm over the back of the bench, only
inches from her shoulders. "So talk. I'm listening."

Her breaths were coming faster, now,
adrenalin working its way into her bloodstream. "I can free
us."

CHAPTER TEN

Of all the things Mack expected
Ingrid to say, that was about the last. "Free?" He was positive his
eyebrows had melded into his hairline.

"Free from The Director. Free from the
troupe. Free to live as we choose."

He frowned. "I would never abandon the
troupe."

She jumped up, pacing. "Then we could
all go. They’re strong enough to learn how to protect themselves
with their powers. We can escape together."

"Do you know how crazy you
sound?"

She narrowed her eyes, their aqua
depths glowing with intensity. "Yes, but I also know this. At every
show, those creeps lower their shields and allow us into their
minds. If we can make them believe they're making love to a sprite
or killing a dragon, then we can make them believe they have a gun
pointed at their head. Better yet, we can make them want to point a
gun at their own heads and pull the trigger."

"A fantasy gun without
bullets."

"My projections can become solid. You
saw that at yesterday’s rehearsal. Who’s to say I can’t eventually
conjure up an actual loaded gun with solid bullets that work?” She
stopped directly in front of him. “This is why we have to keep
experimenting.”

"You’re talking about creating matter
with your mind. That’s impossible.”

“Maybe I can’t make real
bullets. Maybe I can knock someone on the head with a solid
projection. With Gene’s strong ability to use
Influence
, he might be able to force
someone to take poison or shoot themselves or…”

“Ingrid. Sit down. Please.” She
obeyed, wonder of wonders, and Mack continued. “An alpha wolf or a
master vampire’s mental shields are stronger than you might
imagine, and they sure wouldn't volunteer to lower them outside of
the theatre."

"We can break through any shields.
We're familiar with the feel of their energy, the strength, and
limits of their magic. We know these creatures better than they
know themselves. I've done it with master sorcerers who were strong
enough to conjure a mid level demon."

"What?" He grasped her shoulder
twisting her to face him. If this was true, then she’d done
something extremely dangerous.

"I've broken through their protective
shields."

"You got lucky. This isn't a game,
Ingrid. The Director will kill us all if you’re that reckless
again." Mack stood and took her hand. "We're going to my house
where we'll have real privacy. It's a block away."

"But..."

He warned her with a dark gaze and a
sharp brush of his power. Ingrid grasped his arm to brace herself,
her knees wobbling. She seemed on the verge of retaliating with a
nasty comment, when her logical side kicked in and dusted itself
off.

“You’re right. Sorry.”

And he was right. Ingrid was brash and
impulsive and if she weren’t careful, it would get her killed. She
was the most frustrating female ever created to torment a male, but
against all reason, the startling glitter of defiance in her eyes,
only made him want her more.

He took long strides, Ingrid
practically having to run beside him to keep up. He was pissed
because she wasn't taking what she'd done seriously.

When they got through the front door
of his house, he marched her backwards until her butt collided with
the back of the couch. She faced him, her hands resting beside her
hips. "Why are you so angry?" she asked.

"You are out of control."

"I've never been more in control of my
powers." There was that pout again, tempting him, torturing him.
"That's why I keep pushing the limits. The more we work with our
energy, the more we can learn to do."

This beautiful, sexy female was
driving him over the freakin' edge. He must have left his brain
back on that park bench, because now that she was in his house, all
he could think to say was, "Your mouth..."

She grinned and it was even more
tantalizing. "My mouth? I thought we were arguing."

"I can't argue with you when you look
at me like that."

"I thought I was looking at you like I
wanted to kick your ass. That’s what I was going for."

"It's very hot. Your mouth gets all
pouty."

"It does?" She bit her bottom lip in
that innocent, not-innocent-at-all way, then placed her hands on
the back of the couch, her breasts pointing at his chest. She
smiled, a temptress in a ponytail, and his cock sprang to
attention.

"Unfuckingbelievable,” he whispered.
And he couldn't stop himself. He had to taste her, no matter how
pissed off he was. No matter what happened next.

He locked down his shields and pressed
his lips against hers, very gently at first, wondering if she’d
pull away. When she didn’t, he gave in to his hunger, moving his
body closer. His hands brushed over her soft bare arms and
shoulders, one resting at her nape, the other fisted in her hair.
With a gentle tug, he angled her head and slid his tongue along her
lips, urging her to give herself over to him.

Opening her mouth, Ingrid relaxed
against him, her curves soft, her mouth wet and hot and sweet,
sending him visions of tasting her between her thighs and hearing
her scream in pleasure. She sighed into his mouth, wiggling closer,
his erection painful now. He burned to be inside her heat, bringing
her with him to a climax he knew would be dangerous to his
sanity.

Because once he decided to give
himself to her, she’d have the tools to destroy him.

She took hold of his belt and yanked
him even closer. Sweet and strong, this wasn't a female who'd
submit easily. She'd want to dominate, to hold onto her hard-won
control. He smiled at the thought, imagining all the ways he could
seduce her into surrendering control. It wouldn't take much effort
at all to toss her over the back of the couch and then follow her.
Or he could twist her around and bend her over and—

She suddenly pulled away, walking to
the window, gazing out at the side garden. "I can’t figure out why
you want me. I’m trouble. You’ve said it yourself.” She seemed more
vulnerable suddenly, as if their kiss had put a crack in her steel
walls.

He smiled, teasing, “It’s the
mouth.”

She laughed. “Oh, so if Diane had this
mouth…”

“No. Not that she isn’t lovely, but
she isn’t…she isn’t you."

“So then it’s more…”

“Maybe.” She stared at the bulge in
his pants and he yielded up the truth. “Yes.”

“Even now that you know about my
plans?"

"I'll be honest. I'm going to do my
best to talk you down."

"Like some kitten in a tree?" Anger
flared in the blue of her eyes.

"You can't beat him."

Ingrid wrapped her arms around her
middle. "I won't stop trying. Not till I'm free, or he kills
me."

"It won't be only you he
kills."

"Freedom is worth dying
for."

"If you're putting only yourself in
danger, fine. But the Hudson River Troupe will also be
exterminated." Mack watched as she looked away. "You know it's
true. Are you willing to sacrifice the others? I’m not. I won’t.
I’ll protect them till I die."

"We can tell them. They'll make up
their own minds. Gene would agree to try."

"He might. Sam and Staci, too. But
never Dave or Diane."

"Alan?"

"I'm not sure. He has his heart set on
becoming a PM."

"He could be so much more. He could
help save an entire race."

"Whoa. I thought we were talking about
getting a few of us safe. Now you're talking
revolution."

"The founding fathers didn't think
small."

He laughed. "You're comparing yourself
to George Washington?"

"More John Adams or Thomas Jefferson,
I think."

He stepped into her body, lifting a
hand to her nape. "Why do I find that sexy?"

“Cause you’re crazy too?” she
whispered huskily.

This time when they kissed, he opened
his outer shields, sending her his axis energy and reaching for the
connection once more. He was controlling their unique magic instead
of allowing it to control them, and their senses sang in a harmony
he'd never imagined.

Ingrid looped her arms around his neck
and arched into his chest, rubbing her so-soft body up and down. "I
might self-combust any minute," she taunted.

“I'm so fucked," he
chuckled.

"Not yet,” she winked. “You'll know
when it happens." Ingrid placed her palm on the center of his
chest, pushing his ass back against the couch. She began to
unbutton his shirt slowly, maybe wanting their morning together to
be more than an explosion of frantic need. As he watched her
fingers work their way lower, his hands moved away from the couch,
finding their way to her waist, then sliding down to her
hips.

Was this what he wanted? Hell, yeah.
Was this smart? Probably not. "You won't change my mind by seducing
me," he warned.

"Is that what I'm doing? I thought I
was submitting to your seduction." She unbuttoned the lowest button
and spread the shirt apart.

"You and I have a different idea about
what submission entails."

"Are you one of those guys who wants a
girl on her knees?"

"Well, I won't say the idea isn't
appealing, but I was thinking more along the lines of my head
between your thighs."

The sensation of fabric sliding down
his arms didn't distract him from the heat in her eyes. "I like
your version," she whispered. His shirt fell to the floor by their
feet.

"I intend to spend quite a lot of time
there."

"What else?" She ran her soft hand
back and forth across his chest, hardening his nipples.

"Maybe I’d bend you over the back of
the couch."

She laughed. "Very caveman, but I
might be too short."

"I'd let you wear your four inch
heels—but nothing else."

"I like the way your mind
works."

He leaned in. “I like the way your
mouth…” And then, because the fates seemed to have it in for all
tech thetas, Mack’s H-tab rang. “Shit.”

“Ignore it." She’d added a touch of
pleading to her tone.

That sound was so fucking hot. What
would be the harm of ignoring the call just this once? He bit her
luscious bottom lip and pulled. She bit back. The H-tab stopped
ringing, starting up again a few seconds later.

Mack pushed her away, adding a
frustrated grunt. “It’s The Director's secretary. She's the only
one with that ringtone."

"Go ahead. I can occupy myself for a
few minutes." She helped herself to a soda from the fridge and gave
him a sexy wink.

"I'll try to make this quick.” He
turned away. “Mack Hudson.”

"Mack, The Director's on the line.
Please hold."

"Sure, Annie."

As he waited, Mack’s gaze followed
Ingrid, her nipples still taut under her body-hugging shirt. Hips
swaying seductively as she walked, the view of her ass in those
shorts was absolute torture to a male in his painfully aroused
state. Ingrid lowered her body onto a lounge chair in the back yard
and turned her face up to the sun.

He moved closer to the window to get a
better view, not able to tear his gaze away from this incredible
female.

"Mack."

“Yes sir?” His voice sounded strained.
He'd been picturing her on the bed with that round ass in the
air.