Playing with Passion Theta Series Book 1 (16 page)

"I wish things were different, but
what can I do against an archdemon? I’m not one of those fantasies
you create for your audiences.” He clenched the hand he’d rested on
his knee into a tight fist, his knuckles turning white.

Ingrid reached for him, cradling his
balled-up hand in both of hers, opening it to kiss his palm and
raising her eyes to meet his gaze. “You’re an evolved theta like
Gene, Staci, Sam and me. You can get into anyone's head—probably
even The Director's. I think we can make these master vamps and
alpha wolves believe down to their bones that we have the power to
take them out.”

He twined his fingers around hers. “I
admire your confidence, but…”

“Why do they keep us chained up with
all these stupid rules, if they don't think we're dangerous? What
if we can have a chance to live a free life?”

Mack sighed heavily.
"Ingrid..."

“What we truly believe becomes our
reality. Thetas know that better than anyone else. We have the
power to control someone psychically. To kill them, to make them
kill themselves, to make them forget we exist."

"That's impossible."

"Diane believed she was a
vampire."

"Her mind isn't as strong as an alpha
wolf’s or a master vampire’s. Certainly not as strong as The
Director’s."

"We've been in each species' minds so
often, we know their rhythms, their psychic patterns. We can bypass
their shields. Even Dave and Diane."

"You're talking about mind
rape."

"I'm talking about the end
our species'
illegal
slavery."

"Ingrid..."

“What’s your name?” she
snapped.

“What?”

“You don’t know, do you? You don’t
know what your mom and dad named you. You don’t know what town you
were born in or what kind of work your parents did. How is any part
of that okay?”

“What does that have to do with
anything?”

"Listen to me. What if we can have a
chance at a real life, a free life?”

“You’re a little bit crazy.” Mack was
smiling, but behind the smile was concern.

“Crazy for you.” She stroked his chest
from shoulder to abs, disappointed when he caught hold of her hand,
releasing it and stepping away.

“I can’t. I want you, but I wouldn’t
be able to live with myself if any of them got hurt because of my
weakness.”

“So I’m a weakness?”

“You know I didn’t mean it that
way.”

“People have sacrificed themselves for
freedom for thousands of years. If we have the ability to help
thetas and humans, we have a responsibility to try.”

“I know you’re right, but they’re my
only family.”

“We can protect them too,
you and me. All we need is your axis power to fuel us and a lot of
practice.” He was silent, his mind probably seesawing as hers often
did.
I can’t—I can. I shouldn’t—I
must
. “Can you at least promise you’ll
give it some serious thought?”

“Yes. I can promise you that at
least.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“I’m sorry, Ingrid.” The calm
detachment she loathed with every pulse of blood through her veins
settled in his previously glittering eyes. "I have to ask, will you
agree to the new schedule, as well as attending the two events? If
you don’t, I’ll have to cancel the performances. The Director was
adamant about your attending these particular parties.” Mack’s tone
made it clear he was determined to keep their relationship strictly
professional from now on.

Well, good luck with
that
, Ingrid smiled wryly to herself. The
connection between them, something Mack was doing his best to
shield himself from, had bloomed into a cozy warmth within her
axis, changing to something wild and responsive when they opened
their minds and touched skin-to-skin. She had no plans to leave
this unique gift unexplored. There was a reason it existed,
something unique to thetas, but she wouldn't bully him into
lowering his shields and opening his mind, not when he was acting
all stick-up-his-butt. No, she had to approach Mack Hudson with
care, because whatever effort she put into winning his trust would
reap the kind of benefits she’d only dreamed about.

Mack was hers. He just didn’t know it
yet.

He was a male she could respect, a guy
who protected his troupe with every ounce of his spirit, a
production manager who treated her with fairness and not violence,
no matter how badly she behaved. Putting aside the hurt brought on
by Mack's mental and physical withdrawal, she forced herself to try
to see things from his perspective. This wasn't her forte. Since
her first rape, she'd looked after herself, never fully trusting
her secrets to anyone. It was a lonely way to live, but it had kept
her as safe as any troupe ingénue. Even Gene Stone, her partner
who'd died on that Atlanta stage, had never known of her passion
for freedom.

The now stony-faced Mack who stood
beside her bed waiting for her answer, was stuck between a rock and
a hard place. Her heart warmed with compassion,

“I’ll cooperate.” The arched eyebrow
spoke of his skepticism. “I promise."

"Thank you, Ingrid." He moved away,
but she scooted to the edge of the bed, wanting to lessen the
distance between them. "I’ll see you at the rehearsal this
afternoon." He reached for the doorknob then twisted back in her
direction. "Yes. The show is tomorrow night, so you’ll be with Gene
tonight.”

Rebooting psycore was the
night-before-a-show-ritual that kept the acting partners in top
form for the next performance. The problem was, there was only one
male Ingrid wanted in her bed, and he thought she was
a little bit crazy
which
was a kind way of saying
totally fucked
up
.

She ran her gaze from his sneaker-clad
feet, past his narrow hips, over his abs and chest, finally
stopping at that handsome square-jawed masculine face she wanted to
kiss again. "Mack." He waited. “The last thing I want is to make
your job harder or put the troupe at risk. I’ll cooperate. But
please, please think about working with me."

"I'll take the time to think it
through. But don't get your hopes up that anything’s going to
change." He left the room, looking a little defeated.

Ingrid wrapped her arms around her
bent knees and rested her chin on top, whispering to the closed
door, "None of us are safe, Mack, not as long as we're owned by The
Director.” Gene would hop on board soon, but she needed both her
boys to back her up if they were going to have any chance at
all.

Her
two
guys. Now there was another
Titanic about to sink. And what about tonight? How would Gene take
her revelation concerning rebooting? No way to know for sure, until
they talked it out.

She inhaled and exhaled a calming
breath, popping open her H-tab to do a little research.

“Sass. Look up Elias. Master vamp, New
York City.”

“Of course, Ingrid. Everyone knows
Elias.”

The web carried very few pictures of
vampires, a race that loved to be mysterious. Most of them were
vulnerable to attack during the day, so they generally kept their
private lives locked up tight for security reasons. Elias, the
local master, was an exception, often interviewed on the viewer by
female announcers who seemed eager to jump his bones—or his fangs.
Originally a citizen of Greece during the time of Alexander the
Great, he was ancient enough to walk in daylight. She perused a few
articles written about the visiting Italians, but there were no
pictures. According to the news articles, they seemed to be fairly
typical European masters, traditional in their tastes, which
usually meant they’d want blood and sex.

The wolf packs they’d be performing
for on Friday night led a much more public life. They were wealthy,
with a lot of political influence in the New York area. Ingrid
found a picture of the Alpha, Joseph Herron, a handsome man with
russet hair, blue-gray eyes and a superior air.

She could probably turn that snobby
wolf into a sniveling puppy in about ten seconds.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Mack stuck to the normal protocol
for the rehearsal, with Alan taking care of the scripts, the
warnings, and booting up his own sound equipment. Mack was worried
at first, but Ingrid didn’t try to pull in extra power—other than
what was normal for her—and the troupe had a good
run-through.

Mack was happy to see that his actors
were in top form, all of them able to adjust smoothly to their new
Ingrid’s stronger power grid. He crossed his fingers, hoping that
today’s conversation had made a dent in Ingrid’s attitude and that
everything would work out the way it was supposed to.

Yeah, right.

While he’d pulled up the energy needed
to power the performance and create the ambiance of each scene,
he’d watched every moment of her dance. Her movement in its basic
form was a conduit for the magic a theta used to project their
character. He’d seen several Ingrids dance over the years. This
Ingrid was exceptional in every detail.

Her body moved in incredibly supple
ways, a nymph born of more ancient Magicks, calling upon her
elemental energy to create her enchantment. She transported Mack
back in time to spectacular visions of early goddesses, females who
could simply glance at a man and he would adore her for all
eternity.

Was she really a succubus who stole a
man’s soul as he worshiped her body, calling out her name as she
drained him of life at the height of his pleasure? Or was she
simply what she’d said, a theta evolved into a creature much more
powerful than most of her peers—perhaps a new breed of supernatural
altogether?

Mack's body burned for her, rock hard
and craving the touch of her hands and mouth. But he'd never again
allow his loneliness and need to affect his judgment. He’d lock
those feelings away and leave them behind. His responsibility to
the members of the troupe came before any individual desires. This
was the life he’d agreed to when he'd signed the contract six years
ago. This was the life he knew.

Ingrid drew more power from Mack as
she spun in Sam’s arms, sending out another wave of energy to her
lifelike young witch. Sam’s sorcerer reacted, clutching the witch’s
neck and tearing off her flimsy dress. Ingrid’s projection
screamed, and Mack’s heart beat in double time.

Gods, she truly is a
witch.
And she wasn’t even using extra
power.

When Gene’s knight rescued her and the
two creations rested in the forest, Mack found he could breathe
again. During these moments, when the dance became slow and
graceful, magic pulsed through his body with warmth and peace
rather than passion. He’d yearned for those comforting feelings his
entire life, leaving him vulnerable to her exquisite assault. She’d
managed to brush aside the thin barriers he’d erected and filled
the ice-lined pits of his life with her magic.

Every short moment he'd spent with her
was suddenly clear in his mind, unique and precious. Her laughter
still rang in his ears, warming his heart, and the sensation of
trailing his hands and mouth over her velvet skin would torture him
each night when he crawled alone into his bed. Getting through the
last few minutes of the rehearsal took Mack more effort than
usual.

After it ended, he gave Ingrid and
Gene strict instructions to stay on Staten Island and to morph into
an average-looking couple so as not to draw attention. Celebrity
model types might be followed, even in this relatively safe
residential neighborhood.

“What if we can have a
chance to live a free life?”
Her words
still sang in heart, adding hope where there had been only
resignation.

To try to keep his mind off Gene and
Ingrid's reboot later tonight, Mack took a long run, looping
through Clove Lakes Park for a few circuits, taking the back
streets past the zoo and down to the shoreline. The rest of the
troupe was going to be barbequing tonight, a group activity that he
always encouraged, but he wasn’t really in the mood to socialize.
He had research to do and a book to read. And if he was being
honest, he didn't want to be at the house when Gene and Ingrid got
back from dinner.

How was he going to live
in a troupe with this woman and not kiss her, touch her, fall in
love with her? He was probably in love with her already.
Stupid, stupid, stupid
.
He shook his head, going over their earlier conversation, hoping
that thinking about her words instead of her body would shrink his
practically permanent hard-on.

What good would it do to make the
people who controlled their lives think thetas were capable of
fighting back, perhaps even capable of killing them? Did Ingrid
imagine their enemies would back off and let them walk out the
door? That the demon soldiers wouldn’t hunt the troupe down
wherever they ended up?

And if the troupe did escape, then
what? Freedom without a chance at survival would be pointless.
They'd need access to their money, a safe place to stay,
transportation, food and so much more. Theta troupe members were
sheltered from the outside world. What did they know about
survival? What did Mack know?