Playing with Passion Theta Series Book 1 (48 page)

Killing two of her troupe members took
only twenty seconds in real time, but performing the act was a slow
motion nightmare she'd never forget. They collapsed, their bodies
limp, still hanging by their chained wrists. A demon—Rem—walked
over to check on Diane, another toward Dave. The executioner moved
closer.

Celeste was hoping for this chance.
She took in a blast of Dylan’s axis and wished the demons a painful
death, blasting them with the fire she’d used on the
sorcerers—their clothing, their hair, their disgusting lives going
up in flames. The fire burned the bodies of her friends as well,
leaving nothing for The Director to mutilate.

"Go."
Mack's voice was urgent as he dragged Celeste toward the
exit.

"Wait." Celeste looked directly into
the nearest camera, letting go of her glamour, her face returning
to normal. Her eyes swirled with their new iridescence, a gauntlet
thrown in the face of a male who only understood power.

She spoke. "We're coming
for you
."

Celeste flipped him off and ran like
crazy, morphing her face back into the Slavic-looking guard. Angry
audience members were on their feet, shouting that they'd been
cheated out of their money. Some spilled into the aisles, making it
difficult to navigate, while others cowered in their seats,
scanning the skies for a missile attack or some other explanation
for the sudden flames. Guards were running in all directions, not
knowing what kind of sniper or sorcerer they were supposed to be
looking for. Dylan and Celeste took advantage of the situation,
fitting into the general chaos as they ran toward their planned
exit point.

Three guards were lined up, blocking
the exit. "You're to stay inside and continue to search for the
assassin," the taller one yelled over the noise. His uniform looked
a little fancier.

“Maybe someone’s in
charge, after all. Just our luck.”

Dylan yelled over the sound of the
angry crowd gathering by the blocked exit. "We were told to search
the parking area."

"We've been ordered to lock the place
down and guard the exits. Get back." The crowd was turning unruly,
pushing them against the other guards. “Get back, or we have orders
to shoot.”

"Move out of the way." A furious
werewolf shouted at the guards blocking the exit. He was trying to
protect his pregnant mate from getting shoved around. An
intelligent guard would know not to mess with an alpha werewolf and
his mate.

“We’re getting crushed!” someone
screamed.

That's when Dylan punched the first
guard in the face, pushing the second guard into the alpha wolf,
who instantly started pounding on him with his fists while his mate
screamed for him to stop. The first guard had gone down hard, so to
keep him from getting trampled by the anxious crowd, the third
guard dragged him over to the sidewall.

Celeste heard three shots. Members of
the crowd behind them tried to turn, to run away from whoever was
wielding the gun. The third guard was pointing his weapon at the
wolf beating up his buddy, so thinking quickly, Celeste made the
armed guard point his gun at his own foot. When he squeezed the
trigger, she and Dylan raced past the exit gate and into the
lot.

They were almost to the van when Dylan
stopped, leaning over to try and catch his breath. For the first
time she noticed there was blood on his right side, near his
waist.

"You’re shot? Put your arm around me.
We're almost there." He limped a few steps, stopping again, his
wound more serious than he was letting on.

Suddenly a man came out of the crowd,
throwing Dylan’s arm over his shoulder and supporting him. “Where’s
your car?”

The male was hooded, so Celeste
couldn’t see his face, but at that point, she didn’t care. She
needed the help. He boosted Dylan into the van, lifting his shirt
and looking at the wound. It was bleeding badly. The male licked
his hand and placed it over the wound, which could only mean one
thing.

He turned to look at her. It was
Joseph Herron. She pulled in power, readying herself to fight him
off.

“You saved my second in command’s life
back there at the gate. His mate’s, too. She’s my
sister.”

He closed the passenger side door.
“Get him back to your people fast. My saliva will help, but he
doesn’t have much time. The bullet was poisoned.” With lightning
reflexes, he took hold of Celeste’s hand. “My offer stands. With
me, you’d have an army behind you. Together we can take him
down—run the city ourselves.”

“While I’m chained naked to your bed?”
she raged.

“You pissed me off.” He shrugged.
“Everything’s changed now that you’ve declared your rebellion.
You’re magnificent—a sirocco of flame and power. I would never dare
treat you with such disrespect. We would be equals, bringing these
demons to their knees and restoring the city and its people to
health.”

“You’re crazy.”

“No more than you.” And then he was
gone, racing toward the helicopter idling at the far corner of the
lot.

Once she was behind the wheel, she
ripped off her shirt, pressing it to Dylan’s side. He held it there
with shaking hands. "Go,” he croaked. “We need to move. I'm
okay.”

She gunned the engine,
pulling out of the lot with a squeal of tires on asphalt, trying to
contact Gene at the same time. "
We're on
the road, but Dylan’s hurt—shot in the side with a poisoned bullet.
He's putting pressure on it. Get the clinic ready for
him."

Gene didn't answer and Dylan wasn't
looking that great. Could things get any worse? "Try to pull in
some power. Focus it on the wound, maybe that'll help,” she told
him." About two blocks away, Celeste started to shake violently
from the adrenalin comedown. She cranked up the heat in the van and
kept driving. She should know better than to ask if things could
get worse.

"Faster, love. I hear helicopters."
Dylan managed to fish a bottle of water and a granola bar out of
their backpack, handing it to Celeste then taking the same for
himself. She practically inhaled the bar and the water as she
attempted to restore some of her lost energy. Dylan only managed a
few sips of water and very little of the bar.

Gene finally answered,
speaking to both of them.
"Liz says the
doctor's on the way. The clinic’s stocked pretty well. You'll be
fine, Mack."
Gene’s voice sounded calm,
but there was an edge to it that scared her. Mack was his closest
friend.

Traffic slowed, coming to a stop. A
checkpoint had been set up at the Bayonne Bridge. The cop was a
young human. Celeste morphed into a hot babe and rolled down her
window.

"License and City ID." The cop sounded
bored, not even looking at her.

They didn't have any paperwork at all.
Celeste threw him a fantasy whiff of perfume. "Hello Officer. I
think I have the documents right here in the middle console." She
spoke in a husky voice. His bored expression turned eager when he
got a look at her generous chest.

Dylan had his hoodie pulled up,
pretending to sleep. He was using axis power to stay alive and
couldn’t share with her. Crossing her fingers that it would be
enough, she dove into her psycore and sent the cop a little fantasy
that he’d checked their IDs and found them in order.

The cop waved them on. “Too close,”
she whispered, exhausted and spent. She’d be in serious trouble if
she needed more power for anything else. They squeezed hands as she
drove—the tactile feeling of skin-on-skin reassuring. Dylan was
pale, shivering badly, his grip on her hand weakening. She trembled
beside him—terrified he might have lost too much blood or that the
poison was destroying his organs.

“You will not die. I won’t allow it!”
she hissed, relieved to see the corners of his mouth twitch ever so
slightly.

When she pulled into the building’s
driveway, Gene and Tom raced out with a gurney, transferring Dylan
and rolling him inside in record time. Thank god for Staci's idea
to build a clinic on site. Somehow, Celeste found the strength to
get herself out of the van, following the gurney into the building,
her knees shaking, and her stomach queasy. She was told by a
stranger to wait outside the exam room until the doctor could check
Dylan out. She sat alone on an old couch someone had gotten from
Goodwill, her legs curled up under her body, wringing her hands and
biting her lip.

Celeste wasn't surprised that everyone
was focused on Dylan. It was what she wanted. She didn’t deserve
anyone’s help, even though she couldn’t ever remember being this
drained. There was a good chance they'd all hate her for what she'd
done to Dave and Diane. Staci and Sam were Diane and Dave's closest
friends.

She replayed every second of what
happened; from the moment she’d entered the stadium to their crazy
escape. Other than preventing Dylan from getting shot, there was
nothing she would have changed. Gene was already furious that they
hadn't cleared their plans with him first, disobeying a direct
order. And now Dylan was hurt. She lifted her chin, a movement that
challenged every muscle in her shoulders and neck. She’d face their
anger the way she’d faced everything in her life. Maybe one day
they’d understand.

Dylan groaned from the other room. She
needed to be in there, to hold his hand, to give him the courage to
live. But when she walked a few steps, she was caught up in an
uncontrollable episode of intense shivering and had to lean against
the wall to keep from falling down.

That’s how Sam found her when he ran
down the stairs. "Why are you here alone?" he asked.

"They said I c...can't go in
yet."

Sam took off his button down shirt and
wrapped it around her shoulders. "You're in shock. You need a
blanket. Lay down on the couch." He helped her back to where she’d
started out, pushing her gently down and using a pillow to elevate
her feet. He left for a moment, returning with a fleece blanket
from the storeroom and a bottle of water.

"P...please, find out how he is. I'm
sc…scared."

"I will. Close your eyes. I'll be back
in a flash." He brushed hair off her forehead, disappearing around
the corner of the hallway.

She must have passed out, because the
next time she opened her eyes, Alan had her sock-clad feet in his
lap and was rubbing them vigorously. "You're icy cold. Staci said I
should try to get your circulation going." He rubbed one of her
hands between both of his. "Mack's gonna be fine."

"Really?"

"Yep, the doctor said the bullet went
right through and didn't damage anything important. The werewolf
saliva neutralized the poison and slowed the bleeding. You were
both lucky. How do you feel?"

"I'll be fine if I can see
him."

"Sure." Alan scooted out from under
her feet, gently picking her up as if she weighed nothing at
all.

"Wow. I'm impressed."

"Super hero APM," he joked.

"That explains the theme music." Alan
had managed to pipe in some tunes to the waiting area.

"It's a scientific fact that music
helps the healing process," he defended himself.

“You know, you’re not an APM anymore.
Now you can be what you like.”

“I’ve been wondering if I could get
hold of a guitar.”

“Get Staci or Tom to put it on their
never-ending list.”

Hooked up to an IV line, Dylan seemed
to be sleeping soundly, his chest moving in time to the sound of
his steady breathing. His color had returned, and he was actually
smiling in his sleep.

“I was so scared, and here he is,
smiling like he’s having the nicest dream in the world.” Celeste’s
cheeks were tight with her own smile.

The nurse who’d told Celeste to wait
outside was gathering up the bloody clothes they'd stripped off
Dylan. Without asking permission, Alan placed her on the bed next
to the patient, readjusting her blanket so she’d stay
warm.

“I’ll tell the crew upstairs what’s
going on.” Alan ran out, the sound of his footsteps on the stairs
matching the rhythm of his piped-in music.

The nurse handed her a
straw and cup of water, whispering, "You might have a mild case of
shock, so I want you to only take very small sips. No food, until
later. Try to let your guy get some sleep. Your man's healing
powers are very strong. He’s already hooked into
the source
and rebooting
naturally, so he'll be fine. Try not to worry."

“Thank you.”

Staci came in a moment later. “Oh,
wonderful. Have you had a chance to meet Doctor Wilton?” She
indicated the female Celeste had assumed was a nurse. She kept her
mouth shut and put her own sexist faux pas down to a lack of energy
and a lifetime of experience with only male doctors.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Ingrid.”
The doctor’s smile was warm and comforting. She’d picked the right
profession.

“I call myself Celeste, now. And Mack
is Dylan. We’re not in a troupe so…”

“I understand. Those names are
perfectly fine. Glad to have you on our side of the
tracks.”