Playing with Passion Theta Series Book 1

by Gayle Parness

  “It’s not that. I’ll explain later. Not here in the street.”

  They turned off Henderson and onto Kissel. “Did you have fun last night?” he asked.

  “Yeah. We ate sushi and danced for a couple of hours.” She smiled in his direction, but got zero response. “We didn’t sleep together.”

  “That's not my business.” His calm tone of voice was annoying her to no end. Where was that passion she’d felt on the terrace?

  Ingrid considered grabbing his hand, but thought better of it, worried their connection might explode out here on the sidewalk. “Why didn’t you make me morph before we left the house?”

  “I can protect you.”

  “From a pack of wolves?”

  “You doubt me?”

  “No.” His confidence was amazing. In fact, everything about him was amazing. She stopped in her tracks, forcing him to stop as well. “There's something between us. Don’t you want to explore it? See where it goes?"

  "Another experiment?" His voice was as flat as one of Alan’s pancakes.

  "No.” She frowned. “Is that why you got cold all of a sudden after our talk? I would never use you for your power.”

  But hadn’t that been exactly what she’d been planning to do? She stared at her feet, mortified by her own cold truth. To gain her freedom she might destroy this powerful male, who’d done nothing to hurt her. A guy who’d put blood, sweat and tears into giving his troupe the best life he could manage.

  “I don’t have casual relationships. I’m the possessive type—a one woman guy.”

  And didn’t that sound perfect? To make a lifetime commitment to one special guy—a guy she’d chosen. "We need to talk. I have an idea…”

  “Let’s go somewhere more private. The entrance to Snug Harbor is around the bend. Hardly anyone uses it anymore.”

  Impatient as always, Ingrid stopped walking as soon as they were through the tall metal gates and inside the park, placing her bare hand on his chest, wondering if the connection between them was still there, still strong. When she looked at his face there was real heat in his eyes, his previous coldness melting away. The strange link was warm and sweet and felt right, like Mack was supposed to be her guy. Her forever guy.

  She bit her lip, her breath coming faster. This was crazy. This didn’t happen to thetas. But she didn’t step away and neither did Mack.

  "I swear, I'm not forcing a connection." Ingrid didn’t want to speak—only feel this glorious closeness. She realized they were both smiling at each other, happy in a way she’d never experienced. When he placed his hand over hers their separate worlds became one.

  Axis power looped back and forth between them, pinking up the skin on her arms and probably her face. Even though her nipples had turned hard and achy, her body tingling with desire, she understood this connection was more than a sexual one. If only they could trust enough to drop their shields, to lay their souls bare before the other.

  His fingers moved over her hand in a restless way as his gaze took in her eyes, her mouth, her neck. "You’re so lovely; I’m finding it difficult to breathe.” He chuckled at his own declaration, “I’m seventeen again when I’m with you.” His gaze had lowered to her chest.

  She smiled and scanned his body. "You want me."

  “Since that first ride from the airport, despite my practical nature chiming in with all sorts of dire warnings.” Ingrid giggled, a sound she almost didn't recognize and Mack continued, smiling warmly back. "But first you need to explain what it is you’re trying to accomplish with all this experimentation. If you can’t trust me with the truth, we have nothing.”

  Mack suggested that the small duck pond offered the perfect seclusion. He led the way, sitting on a bench dedicated to a past patron of the harbor and patting the seat beside him. Mack relaxed, his arm over the back of the bench, only inches from her shoulders. "So talk. I'm listening."

  Her breaths were coming faster, now, adrenalin working its way into her bloodstream. "I can free us."

  CHAPTER TEN

  Of all the things Mack expected Ingrid to say, that was about the last. "Free?" He was positive his eyebrows had melded into his hairline.

  "Free from The Director. Free from the troupe. Free to live as we choose."

  He frowned. "I would never abandon the troupe."

  She jumped up, pacing. "Then we could all go. They’re strong enough to learn how to protect themselves with their powers. We can escape together."

  "Do you know how crazy you sound?"

  She narrowed her eyes, their aqua depths glowing with intensity. "Yes, but I also know this. At every show, those creeps lower their shields and allow us into their minds. If we can make them believe they're making love to a sprite or killing a dragon, then we can make them believe they have a gun pointed at their head. Better yet, we can make them want to point a gun at their own heads and pull the trigger."

  "A fantasy gun without bullets."

  "My projections can become solid. You saw that at yesterday’s rehearsal. Who’s to say I can’t eventually conjure up an actual loaded gun with solid bullets that work?” She stopped directly in front of him. “This is why we have to keep experimenting.”

  "You’re talking about creating matter with your mind. That’s impossible.”

  “Maybe I can’t make real bullets. Maybe I can knock someone on the head with a solid projection. With Gene’s strong ability to use Influence, he might be able to force someone to take poison or shoot themselves or…”

  “Ingrid. Sit down. Please.” She obeyed, wonder of wonders, and Mack continued. “An alpha wolf or a master vampire’s mental shields are stronger than you might imagine, and they sure wouldn't volunteer to lower them outside of the theatre."

  "We can break through any shields. We're familiar with the feel of their energy, the strength, and limits of their magic. We know these creatures better than they know themselves. I've done it with master sorcerers who were strong enough to conjure a mid level demon."

  "What?" He grasped her shoulder twisting her to face him. If this was true, then she’d done something extremely dangerous.

  "I've broken through their protective shields."

  "You got lucky. This isn't a game, Ingrid. The Director will kill us all if you’re that reckless again." Mack stood and took her hand. "We're going to my house where we'll have real privacy. It's a block away."

  "But..."

  He warned her with a dark gaze and a sharp brush of his power. Ingrid grasped his arm to brace herself, her knees wobbling. She seemed on the verge of retaliating with a nasty comment, when her logical side kicked in and dusted itself off.

  “You’re right. Sorry.”

  And he was right. Ingrid was brash and impulsive and if she weren’t careful, it would get her killed. She was the most frustrating female ever created to torment a male, but against all reason, the startling glitter of defiance in her eyes, only made him want her more.

  He took long strides, Ingrid practically having to run beside him to keep up. He was pissed because she wasn't taking what she'd done seriously.

  When they got through the front door of his house, he marched her backwards until her butt collided with the back of the couch. She faced him, her hands resting beside her hips. "Why are you so angry?" she asked.

  "You are out of control."

  "I've never been more in control of my powers." There was that pout again, tempting him, torturing him. "That's why I keep pushing the limits. The more we work with our energy, the more we can learn to do."

  This beautiful, sexy female was driving him over the freakin' edge. He must have left his brain back on that park bench, because now that she was in his house, all he could think to say was, "Your mouth..."

  She grinned and it was even more tantalizing. "My mouth? I thought we were arguing."

  "I can't argue with you when you look at me like that."

  "I thought I was looking at you like I wanted to kick your ass. That’s what I was going for."<
br />
  "It's very hot. Your mouth gets all pouty."

  "It does?" She bit her bottom lip in that innocent, not-innocent-at-all way, then placed her hands on the back of the couch, her breasts pointing at his chest. She smiled, a temptress in a ponytail, and his cock sprang to attention.

  "Unfuckingbelievable,” he whispered. And he couldn't stop himself. He had to taste her, no matter how pissed off he was. No matter what happened next.

  He locked down his shields and pressed his lips against hers, very gently at first, wondering if she’d pull away. When she didn’t, he gave in to his hunger, moving his body closer. His hands brushed over her soft bare arms and shoulders, one resting at her nape, the other fisted in her hair. With a gentle tug, he angled her head and slid his tongue along her lips, urging her to give herself over to him.

  Opening her mouth, Ingrid relaxed against him, her curves soft, her mouth wet and hot and sweet, sending him visions of tasting her between her thighs and hearing her scream in pleasure. She sighed into his mouth, wiggling closer, his erection painful now. He burned to be inside her heat, bringing her with him to a climax he knew would be dangerous to his sanity.

  Because once he decided to give himself to her, she’d have the tools to destroy him.

  She took hold of his belt and yanked him even closer. Sweet and strong, this wasn't a female who'd submit easily. She'd want to dominate, to hold onto her hard-won control. He smiled at the thought, imagining all the ways he could seduce her into surrendering control. It wouldn't take much effort at all to toss her over the back of the couch and then follow her. Or he could twist her around and bend her over and—

  She suddenly pulled away, walking to the window, gazing out at the side garden. "I can’t figure out why you want me. I’m trouble. You’ve said it yourself.” She seemed more vulnerable suddenly, as if their kiss had put a crack in her steel walls.

  He smiled, teasing, “It’s the mouth.”

  She laughed. “Oh, so if Diane had this mouth…”

  “No. Not that she isn’t lovely, but she isn’t…she isn’t you."

  “So then it’s more…”

  “Maybe.” She stared at the bulge in his pants and he yielded up the truth. “Yes.”

  “Even now that you know about my plans?"

  "I'll be honest. I'm going to do my best to talk you down."

  "Like some kitten in a tree?" Anger flared in the blue of her eyes.

  "You can't beat him."

  Ingrid wrapped her arms around her middle. "I won't stop trying. Not till I'm free, or he kills me."

  "It won't be only you he kills."

  "Freedom is worth dying for."

  "If you're putting only yourself in danger, fine. But the Hudson River Troupe will also be exterminated." Mack watched as she looked away. "You know it's true. Are you willing to sacrifice the others? I’m not. I won’t. I’ll protect them till I die."

  "We can tell them. They'll make up their own minds. Gene would agree to try."

  "He might. Sam and Staci, too. But never Dave or Diane."

  "Alan?"

  "I'm not sure. He has his heart set on becoming a PM."

  "He could be so much more. He could help save an entire race."

  "Whoa. I thought we were talking about getting a few of us safe. Now you're talking revolution."

  "The founding fathers didn't think small."

  He laughed. "You're comparing yourself to George Washington?"

  "More John Adams or Thomas Jefferson, I think."

  He stepped into her body, lifting a hand to her nape. "Why do I find that sexy?"

  “Cause you’re crazy too?” she whispered huskily.

  This time when they kissed, he opened his outer shields, sending her his axis energy and reaching for the connection once more. He was controlling their unique magic instead of allowing it to control them, and their senses sang in a harmony he'd never imagined.

  Ingrid looped her arms around his neck and arched into his chest, rubbing her so-soft body up and down. "I might self-combust any minute," she taunted.

  “I'm so fucked," he chuckled.

  "Not yet,” she winked. “You'll know when it happens." Ingrid placed her palm on the center of his chest, pushing his ass back against the couch. She began to unbutton his shirt slowly, maybe wanting their morning together to be more than an explosion of frantic need. As he watched her fingers work their way lower, his hands moved away from the couch, finding their way to her waist, then sliding down to her hips.

  Was this what he wanted? Hell, yeah. Was this smart? Probably not. "You won't change my mind by seducing me," he warned.

  "Is that what I'm doing? I thought I was submitting to your seduction." She unbuttoned the lowest button and spread the shirt apart.

  "You and I have a different idea about what submission entails."

  "Are you one of those guys who wants a girl on her knees?"

  "Well, I won't say the idea isn't appealing, but I was thinking more along the lines of my head between your thighs."

  The sensation of fabric sliding down his arms didn't distract him from the heat in her eyes. "I like your version," she whispered. His shirt fell to the floor by their feet.

  "I intend to spend quite a lot of time there."

  "What else?" She ran her soft hand back and forth across his chest, hardening his nipples.

  "Maybe I’d bend you over the back of the couch."

  She laughed. "Very caveman, but I might be too short."

  "I'd let you wear your four inch heels—but nothing else."

  "I like the way your mind works."

  He leaned in. “I like the way your mouth…” And then, because the fates seemed to have it in for all tech thetas, Mack’s H-tab rang. “Shit.”

  “Ignore it." She’d added a touch of pleading to her tone.

  That sound was so fucking hot. What would be the harm of ignoring the call just this once? He bit her luscious bottom lip and pulled. She bit back. The H-tab stopped ringing, starting up again a few seconds later.

  Mack pushed her away, adding a frustrated grunt. “It’s The Director's secretary. She's the only one with that ringtone."

  "Go ahead. I can occupy myself for a few minutes." She helped herself to a soda from the fridge and gave him a sexy wink.

  "I'll try to make this quick.” He turned away. “Mack Hudson.”

  "Mack, The Director's on the line. Please hold."

  "Sure, Annie."

  As he waited, Mack’s gaze followed Ingrid, her nipples still taut under her body-hugging shirt. Hips swaying seductively as she walked, the view of her ass in those shorts was absolute torture to a male in his painfully aroused state. Ingrid lowered her body onto a lounge chair in the back yard and turned her face up to the sun.

  He moved closer to the window to get a better view, not able to tear his gaze away from this incredible female.

  "Mack."

  “Yes sir?” His voice sounded strained. He'd been picturing her on the bed with that round ass in the air.

  “The rehearsal?” The Director’s clipped question informed Mack that his boss was annoyed by his tone.

  “It went very well, sir. We ran through two scripts. She’ll be ready for June first, no question.” Annie had called him last night to say that a performance was added on Thursday night for some elite vampires visiting from Italy. Mack was planning on telling the troupe the news at the meeting later in the afternoon.

  “In her last two troupes she tried to pull in extra power. Make sure you have her on a tight leash.”

  “She’s on a very tight leash, Director.” Ingrid was drinking her soda out of the bottle, teasing him by sliding the tip in and out of her mouth before taking a drink. He glued his gaze to those wicked lips, envisioning his tongue sliding...

  “I won’t accept any screw ups."

  The Director’s voice faded into the background as Mack’s gaze was fused to Ingrid’s gorgeous legs, her calves and thighs sleek with lean muscles. She’d pulled
her shirt up slightly to expose her stomach to the sun, moving a strand of hair behind her ear, her expression turning wicked as she moved a finger across her lips, grinning at Mack.

  "Fuck."

  “Did you curse at me?"

  “Yes, I mean, no. I knocked over a glass of soda...I’m sorry, sir. There won’t be any problems with Ingrid. I’ll keep her very close.” From outside, Ingrid giggled loudly, the sound carrying through the screen door.

  "Who was that? Who is there with you?"

  He grasped at a way to explain why she was at his house. "Ingrid's outside on a lawn chair. She was jogging by, so I invited her to the yard for a soda." The lie came easily. They always did when he was protecting the troupe.

  There was a long pause before The Director spoke again. When he did, his voice sent a chill through Mack’s bloodstream. "Jogging? Alone? You permitted this?”

  "She'd morphed."

  "Switch on the camera." Mack stayed silent. "Do you want her to survive the week? Switch it on." He did as he was told. "Where is your shirt?"

  "I was getting some sun when she showed up."

  "Is she half-naked as well?"

  "Shorts and a shirt." No reason to lie. His boss could insist that he turn the camera in her direction.

  "Mack, this female can tempt an archangel to sin. If I hear even a whisper about you and her fucking around, I’ll sell the whore to the highest bidder. I would get an excellent price for that tight little ass."

  "She hasn't done anything against the rules."

  "Not in your troupe. Not yet. Give her a few more weeks."

  "Sir..."

  "I cannot have a love-sick production manager fucking with my profits."

  "I can assure you, Director, that Ingrid and I haven't had intimate relations. We barely speak to each other.” Mack fisted his hands, forcing his face to remain composed, praying his boss would let this go.

  Holy fuck. He’d almost gotten them all killed because he’d acted like a horny teenager.

  "You have always had a level head…"

  "Thank you, sir." His heart was pounding. Good thing his boss wasn’t actually in the room.

  "…and you are my top PM, but understand this: a troupe that shows me disrespect by disobeying my orders is worth nothing to me, even if it is surpassing all other troupes in sales. Retiring your troupe would give me great pleasure in those circumstances. Ticket sales to witness the execution of an entire troupe would be four times the normal amount.