Playing with Passion Theta Series Book 1 (32 page)

“You’d do that?”

"Of course."

“You’re risking your life for me.”
Ingrid turned away.

"You know that I care about you.” She
felt awkward suddenly, but his gaze was sweet, not heated. “We’re
thrown together without any choice. We end up in each other's arms
to survive and then do our best at each performance to avoid
extermination.”

“That’s exactly it.”

I always pictured myself with someone
who really needed me—who'd look to me for protection. You're too
bloody self-sufficient. Mack is the only guy I can think of who’s
strong enough to keep you in line."

"In line?” she repeated with wide
eyes.

"You should have been with Mack
tonight. You're both so freakin’ stubborn. As your friend, I have
to tell you, it’s extremely frustrating."

"I needed to bring you over." But he
was right about one thing. If they were together, she'd burn him
out with her crazy plans and schemes. Gene needed someone more
grounded, and that wasn't her.

He continued, "If you can build a real
relationship with Mack, I’ll be the first guy congratulating you.
But just so we’re clear, I’m always going to feel protective. It's
ingrained in my ingénue DNA. I’ll do whatever I can to keep you
from getting hurt. But if it happens anyway, I’m here for you to
claw at or slap around or experiment on, whatever comes to
mind.”

He smiled warmly, looking absolutely
adorable. Ingrid pouted, saying, "You're a whole lot easier to deal
with than Mack."

He shrugged. "He's got the safety of
the whole troupe on his shoulders. Anyway, I've heard that it's
those differences that pull up the electricity and make sparks fly
in a relationship." Gene actually wiggled his eyebrows.

"Right now we're in the middle of a
brownout."

He ran his fingers through her hair,
tapping Ingrid’s nose playfully with his index finger.
“Tired?”

“Not at all.”

“Then c’mon, darlin', I’ll beat you at
strip poker.”

After a few hands, Gene asked Ingrid
if he could stay, probably sensing that she didn't want to be
alone. They crawled into bed, dressed in relatively modest sleeping
attire, curling up together. The outside world would probably never
understand, but this kind of physical closeness strengthened acting
partners in ways the reboot alone never could.

“I’ll make sure Alan makes pancakes
tomorrow,” he whispered, yawning.

Mentioning tomorrow brought to mind
the party, and to her horror, Ingrid found her eyes tearing up. She
tried to wipe them dry without Gene noticing, but he was already
reaching for the tissue box and pulling her closer.

“Rest, darlin'. I’ll give you some
extra energy tomorrow to take care of the wolf. Then everything
will be fine.”

He knew as well as she did that
nothing would be fine as long as they were ingénues in a theta
troupe. But the touch of his hand gently rubbing her back and his
tender, soothing words lulled her quickly into a restful sleep
without dreams.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Mack saw Gene in the kitchen at ten
the following morning. “How is she?” He’d barely slept, tossing and
turning most of the night.

Gene, on the other hand, was full of
energy, making it clear he and Ingrid had rebooted. Oddly, Mack
felt happy and heartbroken at the same time.

“She’ll be fine.” Gene turned away,
breaking eye contact. “I’m bringing her some breakfast.”

“I’ll bring it up. I want to talk to
her.”

“I don’t think she’s in the mood for
one of your lectures on her duties as an ingénue.” There was anger
in Gene’s eyes and voice. Clearly, he felt protective, having
developed strong feelings for Ingrid.

“It’s important. I’m not going to give
her a hard time. You can stay,” Mack offered.

That placated Gene slightly, and they
went upstairs together carrying plates of pancakes, juice, and
coffee. Ingrid was seated at her desk, dressed in shorts and a tee
shirt and sporting a serious expression as she studied something on
her tablet. Mack smiled when he observed the remains of Diane’s
lamp, lying in a heap by the fireplace.

The direction of his gaze reminded her
of her tantrum. “Sorry…I was pissed off.”

Mack surveyed the rest of the room
with amusement. “I’m surprised that’s the only
casualty.”

She sighed, gazing at him with a
resigned expression. “What is it, Mack?”

“I’ll talk while you two eat.” They
dug in, obviously hungry after their night together. Mack avoided
looking at the bed—the tangled sheets on both sides an
advertisement confirming a night spent together. “I admit I've been
buying into The Director's BS, suggesting that I was keeping us
safe from extermination by following his orders. But last night
made it clear to me that there is no way to guarantee our safety.
He allows us to live only because we make him more money than any
of the other troupes."

Ingrid swallowed down a forkful of
syrup-laden pancakes. None of this was news to her. In fact, she'd
been telling Mack this all along.

Mack continued. "I should have stepped
in last night when he was hurting you. I'm sorry, Ingrid." He felt
like shit about it.

“You were protecting the others, the
way the PM is supposed to do. I’ve never had a PM worth crap. This
troupe’s on top for a lot more reasons than simply talent. The
actors feel safe and confident under you.

“It’s true,” Gene mumbled around a
spoonful of pancake.

“Dr. D. would have ended all of us if
you'd interfered. I’ve known about what a bastard he is since I was
a kid. I was a pretty little girl and my room had a two-way mirror.
I found out later that he’d invite different males to watch me as
my crappy guardian dressed and undressed me. When I was raped, he
didn’t do anything about it. He sent me back to school to become an
ingénue. He didn’t even apologize for sticking me with a fucked up
guardian who’d bring men to our room and screw them with me in the
bed next to hers. I used to plug my ears and hide under the covers.
I was lucky the rape only happened that once.”

“The instructors did nothing? The
headmaster?” Gene asked. He was clearly livid.

“They were fucking my guardian, too.”
Ingrid shrugged, leaning forward to get their attention. "I think
The Director tried to restrict our power last night so that we'd be
weakened when he came backstage after the performance. If we hadn't
taken down the block, we would've had to work twice as hard to
project the same quality show. We'd have been completely spent when
he showed up." She looked at Mack intently. "He's afraid of us. He
might even know that our troupe has evolved, but he's too greedy to
exterminate us."

Mack allowed his mental wheels to spin
while Gene and Ingrid continued to eat. Thinking back to the way
The Director had hurt her, he wondered what would have happened if
he’d stepped up to offer Ingrid some power to fight back. This was
scary shit.

Mack sat on the edge of the bed,
tilting his head to stretch the kinks out of his neck. "I couldn’t
reschedule my get-together with the Fae Council for another day,
although I was able to arrange to meet with them two hours earlier.
Still, I won’t be able to morph into you as I did with that asshole
vamp and his buddy.”

“Joseph Herron would know the
difference. He’s more than he seems.” Ingrid pushed her plate away
and wiped her mouth and hands on a napkin.

“He didn’t seem like anything
special,” Gene said.

“The fact that he can hide his power
is another dangerous sign. He’s absorbed a lot of strength from the
other alphas he’s killed,” Ingrid added.

“You’ve been doing your own research?”
Gene teased.

“I learned from the best.”

Mack tried to ignore the way they were
smiling at each other. “How many?” he asked.

Ingrid answered. “At least a dozen
powerful pack leaders—some of them males who’d lived one hundred
and fifty years.”

This info had Mack worried “How old is
Alpha Herron?”

“Seventy-six.” Alphas aged so slowly
it was hardly noticeable. A hundred-year-old male often looked no
older than forty years. Joseph Herron could easily pass for
thirty-five.

Mack stood, lowering his body onto the
window seat so he was closer and could speak more quietly. “We need
to figure out a way to make the wolf and The Director think you
cooperated fully. I’ll give you every ounce of extra power I can
dredge up and I’m sure Gene will too, but will that be
enough?"

The three conspirators regarded each
other for a few heartbeats, Ingrid finally speaking. "Between you
and Gene and me, I'll have more than enough fuel to give Joe the
hottest fantasy of his life.”

"I'll do my best to get to the party
when you do, but time doesn't have the same meaning for a race
that’s been around a few thousand years. When I get to the Marquis,
I'll morph into a hotel manager and wait behind the exit door
that’s closest to your room in case you need me. I've already
checked to see which room Joseph’s rented for your private
party."

“You’ve actually thought
this through, haven’t you?”
Ingrid’s
thoughts were a cool balm, instantly renewing their intimate
connection.

“I haven’t slept, worrying
about you. I seem to keep fucking up.”

Gene asked,
"Why don't you guys hang out together for the
rest of the day?”

Mack’s jaw dropped in shock. "You can
mind speak?”

“Even better, we found a way to reboot
without even needing to orgasm.” Ingrid was grinning full out. Mack
thought he’d never seen her look more beautiful.

Gene pouted. “Well…I admit it’s better
in some ways, but in others…”

Giggling, Ingrid tossed a pillow at
Gene’s head. Then to Mack’s surprise, she threw herself into Mack’s
arms. “We’re free. The actors can learn to reboot without sex. They
can choose who they want to be with without worrying over how
they’re going to recharge their batteries. With some practice,
we’ll be able to reboot ourselves, like you do.”

“But I use
the source
,” Mack said,
puzzled.

“So did I.”

Mack could think of no
response at first. Without training, she’d gone to the most
dangerous power source available, more dangerous than any nuclear
power plant or rogue solar flare. Techs were trained how to
approach the ancient sentient creature, how to request a boon, how
to show the proper respect. A PM who felt entitled to what
the source
offered would
soon feel nothing, ever again.

Ingrid could have killed them
both.

Gene was carefully backing out of the
room, Mack’s dark expression a warning that he might be on the
verge of erupting. “See you guys later.” Gene was gone in a
heartbeat.

Ingrid, on the other hand, was staring
at Mack in utter defiance, her chin an arrow pointing toward his
heart, her hands fisted at her sides. Even her scent had changed,
switching from delicate lavender to a sharper, spicier bouquet. She
was breathing deeply, her chest rising and falling provocatively,
her nipples hardened and visible under the thin material of her
shirt. He recalled how delicious her breasts had tasted, how
responsive she was.

“You’re staring at my chest.” Ingrid
stepped backwards, her ass hitting the desk.

“Should I stop?” Mack took two steps
closer.

“I’m not sure. What do you have in
mind?”

He continued to stare at her two
perfect breasts. “They seem like the perfect place to
start.”

“Start what?”

“Your punishment.”

CHAPTER
THIRTY-ONE

“Why am I being punished?” Ingrid
was surprised by the sound of her husky voice and the tingles that
ran up and down her skin, her body obviously excited by the idea.
She began to scoot sideways, not able to back up any further. Mack
had allowed his eyes to return to their natural shade. The hot
copper was sexy as hell, giving off the feel of a dangerous
predator. His muscular form had Ingrid weaker in the knees with
every step he took, stalking her as a big cat would a gazelle. And
she knew in her heart only pleasure lay down that road. His smile
spoke of dirty, naughty, delicious things. If he’d been a cat his
fangs would’ve been showing.

Oh, god. He’s going to
pounce
.

“You did a very foolish thing last
night,” her lover whispered.

“The source
is benevolent.” She meant to sound irritated, but
it only came out as defensive.

“Not always. You were lucky. Tech
Thetas are trained to follow a ritual when dealing with her. She
now expects an offering from you.” His grin held an impish
gleam.

“What? A basket of berries? Home baked
cookies?”

Mack pressed his hard body against
hers, all six feet plus of it, trapping her against her desk. His
fingers skimmed along the waistband of her shorts. “Not exactly.”
The top button popped open.