Playing with Passion Theta Series Book 1 (46 page)

Liz had finally arrived, informing
everyone she’d decided to sleep at a friend’s house. Gene told her
she could sleep wherever she wanted, but that meetings weren’t
optional and that participants were to show up on time.

She watched the live feed for a few
moments. “Traitors,” she hissed.

“Shut up, Liz. You don’t know how long
you’d last under the threat of torture,” Johnny snapped.

Mack’s estimation of Johnny went up
another notch.

“I know one thing—I wouldn’t be a
squealer.”

“You’ll shut your mouth and respect
their sacrifice, or I’ll kick your ass out of here so fast, you
won’t see the street until it hits you in the face.” Gene was
livid.

“You’re not my boss,” Liz
shrieked.

“If you want in on this rebellion, I
am. You voted for me. Don’t ever forget it.”

“Fucking
trouper
.” She stormed
out, heading who knew where. None of them gave a crap.

Their eyes were drawn back to the
screen as Rem pulled out a wicked-looking blade, using it to cut
the straps of Diane’s dress, then her bra. Diane was trembling,
sobbing.

Ingrid turned it off and ran upstairs.
Staci followed her.

Mack decided to give them a few
minutes. Staci had a natural gift to calm people down. It made
sense now that he knew she was a healer.

“She’ll blame herself, you know,” Gene
said.

“I know. Thanks for being there for
her—when I wasn’t.”

Gene wiggled his finger back and
forth. “Don’t fuck it up.”

“Never again.”

Staci and Ingrid were sitting on the
small cement balcony, stargazing, one of Ingrid's favorite things
to do to calm herself when she was upset. When she heard Mack’s
shoes on the cement, she jumped up and ran to him, practically
throwing herself into his arms. He caught her easily, hugging her
hard against his body, feeling the coolness of her skin as her
hands wrapped around his neck.

"You’re cold. Maybe you should’ve worn
a jacket," he whispered into her soft fragrant hair.

"You'll warm her up fast," Staci
giggled and waved on her way toward the stairs.

Ingrid waved back. “Thanks for
everything, Staci.” She hugged Mack around the waist. “I think
she’s my first girlfriend.”

“Staci’s the kind of person we all
need as a friend. Sam, too.”

“They’ve loved each other since they
met. It’s so romantic, right?”

“I suppose.” Mack didn’t feel he had
any expertise to speak of in that department.

Ingrid stroked his face and asked,
"When?"

Mack knew what she meant, so he told
her. “The execution’s set for tomorrow at three p.m. at the arena
in New Jersey.” Ticket prices ranged from five hundred for the
nosebleed seats, to fifty thousand for close up. Premium channel
viewer providers were in a bidding war over who'd carry the repeat
broadcasts of the event—sure to be a ratings stealer. Mack figured
the top executive who groveled the most would end up with the
contract.

The two lovers clung to each other for
several minutes without speaking. Their breathing and heartbeats
had synchronized since their last reboot, as if they'd melded into
one creature, newly born to this troubled planet. After sharing a
sweet kiss, Mack and Ingrid shifted slightly apart.

The same foolish idea—one that would
set them on a dangerous path—was spinning from his mind to hers and
back, reflected in the glittering excitement seen in both sets of
eyes. Their mouths curling at the corners, they spread a blanket on
the floor by a large window and whispered their strategies,
eventually forming a solid scheme.

CHAPTER
FORTY-ONE

When they'd brainstormed and plotted
until they were cross-eyed, Mack blew out the last candle, leaving
the room bathed in only moon and starlight. He draped his arm over
her shoulder, drawing Ingrid closer to his hard, comforting
body.

"Are you tired, love?" He rubbed her
bare arm with his rough fingers, her body shivering in response,
coming awake at his touch. "Today was intense in so many
ways."

Ingrid could only nod, unwilling to
voice her fears over what they’d decided to do.

“It’s not your fault The Director took
them.” He’d said it a dozen times, but she still wasn’t
convinced.

“No, but it’s my fault we were forced
to run. If I’d been like your last Ingrid, you’d all be happily
performing for sold out crowds, eating Alan’s pancakes, comfortable
in your own little house.”

“But still slaves.” He kissed her
hard, insistent, leaning closer to touch foreheads and lock gazes.
“We’d still be slaves if you hadn’t joined our troupe. Ask any of
the others what life they’d rather be leading, and they’d all thank
you for what you’ve done for us.

“Dave and Diane would’ve been a lot
happier if nothing had ever changed. I’m responsible for that…that
horror…” She gulped down a sob, struggling not to fall apart. Mack
opened his mouth to disagree, but Ingrid stopped him with a hand on
his chest. “It’s okay. I need to say it out loud. To own
it.”

Mack brought her hand to his lips,
kissing her palm, holding it to his heart. “You’re the bravest,
strongest person I’ve ever known.”

Her shoulders slumped as she
whispered, "Unfuckingbelievable, right?” She wasn’t feeling that
great about herself right now. “Sleep’s going to be hard to come by
tonight. Wish I could turn off my brain.”

"Bet I can flick that switch to off.”
At first his kiss was loving, warm and comforting, but as it
continued, Ingrid realized how badly she needed to lose herself
tonight, to be taken.

“Please.” She stood, drawing him with
her. “Make me forget about tomorrow.”

Mack backed Ingrid up, both hands
framing her hips, his mouth moving over cheeks and lips until his
tongue found that sensitive spot behind her ear. He nibbled and
nipped, the cool firmness of the wall against her back trapping her
in the arms of the male she trusted more than any other.

He dropped to his knees, lifting the
hem of her shirt, kissing her belly and planting kisses slowly down
the fly of her shorts until he pushed his nose between her thighs.
"You’re mine,” he rumbled, clutching her ass.

Her knees wobbled as he took in her
scent, the action so erotic. “Mack…”

“Shhh. Don’t talk. Don’t think. Feel
how I love you.” She obeyed, resting her hands on his shoulders,
submitting gratefully. He removed her shirt and her bra, his warm
fingers sliding over the skin of her stomach and breasts. He molded
the soft tissue, rolling her nipples gently, then harder. Ingrid
sighed, arching her body into his hands, her sex heating to soak
her panties.

Mack’s fingers moved to the waistband
of her shorts, unfastening the clasp and zipper, sliding them down,
kissing the inside of her thighs, knees, and calves on the journey.
The panties disappeared next, tossed beside the shorts.

He was on his knees, fully clothed in
front of her naked body, and she was completely vulnerable to his
power. Giving up control to Mack was her idea of heaven.

"You'll come when I say." His breath
heated her vagina. She ached with lust and need, wanting more than
anything to submit to her male. She’d bring him whatever pleasure
he demanded to find her own.

"Yes." She didn’t recognize her own
voice—husky with want.

"You're so beautiful." He forced
Ingrid’s legs farther apart, kissing the tender, aching folds,
pushing his tongue inside. She shivered, the sensation electric,
the tightness in her lower muscles urging her to arch against his
talented mouth. This was sex the way it was meant to be—between two
people who desired each other, who loved each other. The glowing
warmth Mack brought to her heart was as strong as the burning,
lustful heat he spread throughout her body.

Her muscles twitched, ready to
release. Ingrid panted, whimpering. He pulled away. "Not
yet."

"Please...I need..." She squirmed in
his grasp.

Two long fingers found her sweet spot
within seconds. “Touch your breasts.” His voice had lowered to a
sexy rumble.

Unable to resist his commands, she
found her aching nipples, rolling and pinching them, sending
tantalizing shocks to her center.

“Drop your shields,” he rumbled, the
vibration against her clitoris weakening her knees.

"Oh, god..."

"Come for me, beautiful girl." And he
sent her over, screaming and clutching at his hair as he continued
to lick and tease and use his magical fingers until she'd stopped
twitching, totally spent and feeling as if she'd walked through the
pearly gates into orgasm heaven.

Somehow, Ingrid had ended up in his
lap on the floor. His erection pressed into her ass through his
jeans.

"Mattress," she purred, feeling
wanton, her body still vibrating with aftershocks. "I'm not making
love to you on this floor. At least, not until we get a cleaning
crew in here."

He laughed and kissed her mouth
gently, then whispered, "You'll fuck me where I say."

"That’s fine if you want dust up your
butt, 'cause if we're on the floor, then I'm on top," Ingrid
teased, still enjoying his bossiness.

"You're not behaving." He nibbled on
her earlobe. “You’re supposed to submit.”

Ingrid leaned in and whispered against
his ear. "You gonna try and punish me? I kinda got off on that the
last time.”

He growled and stood in one smooth
motion, holding her naked body against his fully clothed and
aroused one. He tossed her onto the mattress as if she weighed no
more than the pillow she landed beside. Mack rummaged around in her
bag and pulled out the satin sash that went with her
robe.

"Hold out your hands." His eyes were
glittering with a lusty mischief she adored. Ingrid obeyed without
hesitation.

Hands tied securely, he tilted his
head closer. "To punish you, I'm going to make you come so many
times, you'll lose count." To punctuate his statement, Mack drew
Ingrid across his lap and whacked her on the butt a couple of times
for good measure.

"Ow." She giggled at his idea of
punishment, but oh, god, he was a magician. They fucked each other
senseless, their looped power blending, their bodies singing with
magical pleasure. The sash had been used in a few very interesting
ways, and Ingrid was surprised that Mack was so creative. Each time
it had added some extra heat to their lovemaking, succeeding in
distracting Ingrid’s mind from what was to come with the
dawn.

Much later, they lay tangled together,
their legs and arms so interwoven it was hard to figure out where
one person started and the other ended.

Ingrid painted his swollen lips with a
wet finger. "So what's my name, Trogg?"

He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the
corners. "Celeste."

"Celeste...Celeste..." She tried it
out, tasting it like a fine wine. "I like the sound of it, but why
did you pick it?"

Mack stroked her face with such
tenderness, more than she'd ever thought was possible between
thetas. "Because you shine brighter than any of those stars I see
you wishing on."

Ingrid glanced at him warily. "Are you
joking with me, or do you mean it?"

"You can't tell?" He looked a little
sad.

She sat and threw her arms around his
neck. "I love it."

His kiss was a quick yet sweet
exchange. "Marry me, Celeste." He whispered into her ear, his warm
breath making her body tremble.

"What?" Ingrid was certain she
couldn't have heard him propose.

"I want you in my life forever. Marry
me."

He was squeezing her so tightly
against his chest, her words were a little muffled. "You really
want me? I mean, forever? With all my crazy ideas and schemes
and...and tomorrow we might not..."

He pulled away, threading his hand in
her hair, bringing her face only inches from his. "Say yes." His
breath was warm and sweet against her cheek. "We can take our time
to work it out."

His shining eyes spoke of love, truth,
and a future she’d spent her life wishing for. "Yes!" Ingrid threw
her arms around her future husband's neck and kissed him, adding
some of her own axis magic as an extra affirmation. “Yes, I’ll
marry you.”

"Do you really like your name?" he
asked, happier than he’d ever been in his life.

"Say it again. Make it sound
sexy."

"Celeste." He'd lowered his voice to a
growl. It was perfect.

"I don't want anyone else to ever say
my name. Only you."

His laugh rumbled through his chest.
"Maybe we need to sleep. Tomorrow will be..."

"But don't you want
your
name?"

"Will I like it?" He twisted up his
mouth and winced. He was probably expecting something
awful.

"Oh ye of little faith. I chose
Dylan."