Playing with Passion Theta Series Book 1 (20 page)

“If you move to this section… Oh,
god.”

Blissful moans tore through the room,
their bodies arching off the bed. Every one of Ingrid’s erogenous
zones vibrated with heat as if two males were bringing her pleasure
at the same time. She was instantly wet, her nipples hard and achy,
her mouth needing to make contact with Mack’s so badly. Where was
that big lug when she needed him?

Gene twisted in Ingrid’s direction,
his muscular arm clutching at her waist as he pulled her closer
with a firm tug on her hip. Her face was jammed against his neck,
her ear resting on his pulse, beating rabbit-quick like hers. His
sweat-slick skin smelled of lust and need. She dug her nails into
his shoulders and he cried out, their psycore-induced release
coming fast, violent and sensual.

After several whimpers and a few
moments of heavy breathing, Gene whispered hoarsely, "Holy. Fuck.”
He lifted his head, suddenly realizing where he'd ended up. "Hey,
I'm sorry. I had this incredible need to touch you. Guess I must
have reached out. Hope I didn’t…” He looked down and smiled
sheepishly. “At least I didn’t tear off your clothes.”

“We were both caught up in the moment.
How do you feel?"

He repositioned himself on the bed,
collapsing face down, his head turned toward hers but still resting
on a pillow. "I'm topped up for the next decade. How do you
feel?"

She faced him, matching his position.
“The same. Gene…”

“Yeah?”

“It worked.” And they laughed, the
sound filling the large room for several minutes, ending only when
their bellies hurt more than they could bear.

CHAPTER
SIXTEEN

After parking his vehicle in a VIP
zone, Joseph Herron stepped out, apparently having driven to the
location alone. He took his time straightening the lapels on his
two thousand dollar suit and checking his H-tab for messages before
walking to the entrance. He strode with the confidence born of
great power and the grace of a lethal animal.

Mack was quite familiar with the
habits of alpha wolves and had met with Mr. Herron twice before.
Even so, he'd been surprised when he'd gotten the call. The show
time and place had been set for months. Hopefully the guy wasn't
going to make any last minute special requests. Those were
difficult to manage.

Mack was already at the corner table
he'd reserved and had a perfect view of the male and his vehicle of
choice, a classic sports-shuttle, one of the first, developed by
the Germans over forty years ago.

They shook hands. "Nice ride," Mack
commented with obvious admiration.

"Thank you. I do enjoy driving, but
don't often get the opportunity with my busy schedule."

"I'll call the server."

"No, thank you. I've already
eaten."

"A drink? I could order a bottle of
wine."

"Glenfidditch. A double. Neat." Mack
ordered for both of them, getting the same for himself.

The alpha got right to the point. "Mr.
Hudson, I asked for this meeting to discuss the performance on
Friday. Or more accurately, the performance schedule."

"The main office..."

The top wolf interrupted, a typical
way of asserting his authority. Mack wasn’t a wolf, so Joseph’s
alpha stare-down would have no effect, but rudeness didn’t seem to
be beneath the egocentric dog. "News of the newly-scheduled
performance for the sanguinarian and his Italian posse doesn’t
please me. I chose this particular performance because of the
arrival of the newest Ingrid Hudson. My wolves and I were to
witness her premiere performance in New York City. I expect you to
rectify this situation."

"Elias must have made a deal with The
Director. I have no power to change my boss’s mind.”

“I believe you undervalue yourself.” A
chill ran down Mack’s spine, his senses picking up three more
wolves nearby. “You will call him now and tell him where you are
and with whom you are meeting.”

“Are you planning on threatening The
Director by holding me hostage?”

“Nothing so transparent. Call
him.”

Mack bristled at his arrogance. “And
if I say no?”

Joseph leaned forward, his eyes going
amber. “Your troupe members are scheduled to be my guests on
Saturday night. I have wolves in my packs who would love to play
with Ingrid, Diane, Staci, and even Gene. We wouldn’t leave scars,
Mr. Hudson. At least not physical ones.” He leaned back in his
chair. “You can’t protect every one of them. Make this happen, and
your troupe will walk away from the party with smiles on their
faces. If not…” He shrugged and smiled.

“The Director won’t allow
you to injure his property.” The last word—
property—
had stuck in Mack’s throat.
He took a quick sip of scotch to fortify his courage, savoring the
burn.

“I see that you care for them. I’m a
reasonable male. Call him.”

Mack did as Herron suggested without
further comment. Annie put him through to The Director swiftly.
“What is it, Mack?”

“I’m at a restaurant with Joseph
Herron. He’s angry about the change in schedule.” Mack could see no
reason to beat around the bush.

“Has he threatened you?” Mack glanced
at Joseph, who was able to hear every word.

“Tell him the truth,” Herron suggested
calmly.

“He’s threatened to hurt the troupe
during the after party.” Mack’s fingers were tapping out a frantic
rhythm, but it wasn’t from fear. He wanted to wring this asshole’s
neck in the worst way.

The Director laughed. “Give him your
phone.”

Joseph took the phone, walking far
enough away that he thought the theta couldn’t hear. He was
wrong.

“Joseph, this is bull. You don’t give
a shit about the schedule. We both know what you want.”

“And what do I have to do to achieve
my goal?”

There was a moment of silence. “After
she greets the rest of the guests, she’s yours for the night.
You’ll meet with her alone; none of your cronies can be there, not
even to watch. You’ll place a competent guard at the door. No
filming or pictures. No permanent injuries. She leaves at dawn.
I’ll send a car to pick her up at the hotel. Make sure she gets
into it. And she’d better be able to walk. The last Ingrid you
enjoyed needed bed rest for several days. It fucked up the troupe’s
performance schedule. And tell your people to keep their paws off
the rest of them. Diane is particularly sensitive.”

“Agreed on all counts.”

“Good. Because the next time you
decide to threaten my thetas, I’ll skin you in animal form and use
you as a rug for my dogs to piss on.”

“I understand,
Sir
.” There was sarcasm
in his tone—a dangerous choice—but Alpha Herron was a powerful
creature in his own right.

“You owe me for this. I’ll be
collecting soon,” The Director hissed.

“I would expect so.” Joseph handed
Mack the phone with a curious glance. “What’s wrong? You look
ill.”

Mack came up with a lame excuse. “The
scotch. I don’t drink often.”

“I’ll send you a bottle. It’s a good
habit to acquire.”

“Mack.” The Director had little
patience. “Did you hear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Don’t tell her about Joseph until the
morning of the party.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re responsible for making sure
she cooperates.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll be at the show with
Elias.”

“The troupe will be in top form, I
promise you.” His voice sounded robotic, even to his own
ears.

The Director hung up without another
word. The wolf stood, signaling for his dogs, who’d been sitting in
a dark booth at the back to follow. There was no shaking of hands
or courteous exchange of words. Mack watched Joseph Herron get into
his high-priced vehicle and drive away.

Mack ordered another scotch, but
didn’t take a sip, his fingers tapping frantically against his
knee, his mind racing toward the brick wall The Director had kicked
him into. The longer he stared at the amber liquid the more it
reminded him of the color of the alpha’s eyes.

On the morning of the party given by
the wolves, Mack would have to tell Ingrid she was to spend the
night with Joseph Herron, an alpha known for his use of violence to
solve territorial disputes. It was common knowledge he and some of
his pals were into kink, a perfect avenue for this particular
werewolf’s sadistic inclinations.

She’d be whipped, raped, maybe
worse.

Mack downed the scotch, regretting it
almost instantly. It burned a hole in his already churning stomach,
reminding him that there was no place to hide from this situation.
He deserved the pain. In the past he would have done what he’d been
ordered to do. In the past he would’ve blocked out all thoughts of
what Ingrid was enduring, making sure she got the medical attention
she needed and then looking forward toward what had to be
accomplished before the next rehearsal or performance.

He’d sacrificed the health and sanity
of certain members of his troupe to protect the troupe as a whole.
At the same time he was saving his own ass and Alan’s, although it
had never occurred to him that was what he was doing. Tech thetas
weren’t required to attend parties or cater to the needs of the
powerful scum who liked to throw their weight around.

Mack thought about their last Ingrid.
She’d begun to suffer from depression after a night with Joseph
Herron. She’d begged to be sent away and thankfully, was allowed to
leave—probably because The Director had the current Ingrid already
lined up to join the troupe.

He’d failed them all by turning a
blind eye, but wallowing in guilt wouldn’t help Ingrid. Mack would
have to figure out a way to keep Ingrid out of Joseph Herron’s paws
without garnering the wrath of Dr. Dirt. He’d talk to Gene and come
up with a plan.

CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN

When they were able to speak
normally again, Ingrid asked, “You don’t mind? That we didn’t have
intercourse?”

“No. I’m relieved, to tell the truth.
I hated the idea of becoming a wedge between you and Mack. I can’t
imagine he’d object to this kind of reboot between the two of
us.”

“Let’s hope.”

“It worked so well, I am now your
slave for all of eternity.”

She forced herself to frown, glancing
around the room. “I could use a slave. Do you wash
windows?"

He barked out a laugh,
staring at the enormous windows with a skeptical expression.
"Although the windows are large, I live only to
pleasure
you, mistress." He
winked.

"I think flirting is off-limits
now."

"Please. We're actors. Flirting is
like breathing."

"As long as Mack doesn't blow a
gasket."

Gene whispered sexily in her ear, "I'm
sure he'd prefer it if you blow..."

"Enough." She giggled, punching him
lightly in the ribs.

He sighed, leaning back on the bed.
"You did it.”

“Uh huh.”

“Without sex.”

“Uh huh.”

“Imagine what it would be like to
connect like that and then fuck.”

“Gene…”

“I’m thinking of you and Mack,
sugar.”

Ingrid twisted her mouth into a frown.
“I’m pissed off at him.”

“Won’t last.”

“How do you know? You’re so easy to
talk with. I can be myself around you. Sometimes I
wish…”

“Nah, you don’t. I want to be the
alpha in the relationship—find a girl who needs my protection. You
definitely don’t need my protection.”

“Problem is, Mack doesn’t want me the
way I am. He won’t listen when I tell him my plans. You
listen.”

“He’s listening—doing his best for all
of us. Look, I only have one job. Mack has to oversee everything,
plus power the show. Cut him some slack.” He sat up and stretched
his arms over his head. "You need anything before I go back to my
room to shower?"

“I could go for some ice
cream. Will you
pleasure
me by getting me some, slave?”

"I've created a monster. Twenty
minutes."

When Ingrid finished her
shower, she found Gene back in her room with two huge bowls: one
filled with chocolate ice cream, the other strawberry. They shared,
both of them hungry despite the enormous meal they’d consumed
together at the restaurant. Gene left soon after and Ingrid was
asleep faster than she could say
holy
shit, it worked
.

When she woke up the next morning,
there was a vase full of lavender sprigs on her desk and no note.
Gene or Mack? She smiled, sliding down under the covers. Her money
was on Mack.

CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN

The troupe was ahead of schedule,
thanks to the new driver, Johnny. It struck Mack as strange to see
how familiar Johnny was with the back streets, especially since the
young male was too poor to own a car, but he filed it away to
discuss with Alan later. Traffic on a Thursday evening wasn't
usually too bad, but then again, a driver always had to factor in
traffic accidents and tourists who blocked the streets so they
could take pictures.