Playing with Passion Theta Series Book 1

by Gayle Parness

  “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 we
ight 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.

  Mack had decided to share the first limo with Diane, Dave, Staci, and Sam, figuring that he was better off keeping as far away from temptation as possible.

  "Where were you, last night?” Staci asked. “We made Sangria and barbequed up some ribs."

  "I had a meeting with the local alpha and then did some paperwork."

  "Be honest. You didn't want to see the Dynamic Duo heading upstairs together," Dave said with a slight smirk.

  Diane smiled and stroked her partner's face. "I thought we were the Dynamic Duo."

  "We're more the Capricious Couple." Dave and Diane chuckled at his joke.

  Staci mumbled close to Mack's ear, "More like the Petulant Pair." When he laughed along with Sam, Diane glared in their direction.

  Mack was grateful for the next few blocks of quiet, but Sam broke the silence, teasing him. "Did you know she watches you, when you aren't looking?"

  Dave leaned forward. "Who, Diane? Well, Diane drools over any male. Sorry, Mack. Ow!" Diane had elbowed him in the ribs.

  Sam shook his head. "I was speaking of Ingrid."

  Dave’s eyebrows shot up. "Oh, Ingrid. She's a challenge. Good luck with that."

  The crowd was heavy outside the theatre. Fortunately, Alan had arrived over an hour ago to organize security so that the limousine-style shuttles could pull right up to the dressing room door, located in a courtyard behind the theatre.

  People screamed as Johnny opened the rear passenger door and helped Diane get out, followed by Dave. Those two were always popular with the fans, and they smiled in response to the enthusiastic accolades. When they emerged, Sam and Staci got quite a few shouts and cheers as well, especially since they were younger than most swings, only in their late forties/early fifties and still looking very much like a hot celebrity couple. Part of their popularity was due to the number of personal appearances they made at charitable events. Because they were older and considered past their prime, Swings had fewer restrictions placed on them by The Director.

  Most of the crowd was waiting to see Gene and the new Ingrid, who were arriving separately as per the orders of their boss. Mack had hustled the others inside and waited at the door until he heard the sound of screaming coming from the streets. The roar moved in a wave, until it reached the theatre's courtyard. The white limo crawled between the lines of security holding back the sobbing teens, parking in front of the few steps leading to the backstage door.

  The regular driver, Scott, jumped out and ran around to open the back passenger door. Gene stepped out first, dressed in jeans, a tee shirt and a sports jacket, and the screams rose to a deafening roar. He grinned and waved in his usual way, holding out his hand for his new partner, the crowd growing quiet with anticipation. Ingrid stepped out of the car, smiling and laughing, wearing a blue dress that made her look innocent and sexy at the same time. She waved the way Gene had and smiled with that glorious mouth, somehow managing to look about eighteen. That was all it took. The mob erupted with screams of 'Ingrid, you're beautiful!—Gene, marry me!—Give us a fantasy!—Dance for us! When Ingrid walked up the steps and turned around to face them, they quieted down, hoping she'd say something. She didn't disappoint them.

  There were a few newscasters and photographers in the front of the crowd, and she certainly knew how to work them, shifting her hips in a subtle way, curling her mouth up in a hint of a smile. One of the cameramen was having trouble keeping the camera steady. Mack knew exactly how the guy felt. His body was already overheating.

  Her rich voice projected across the courtyard without a problem. "Thank you so much for coming to welcome us. I know I'm going to love New York, and I hope some of you can come to see us perform. Gene, I, and the rest of the troupe appreciate your support. We truly love seeing you here.” She took Gene's hand and the crowd went crazy.

  "Thank you again." Gene grinned, surprising them all by spinning Ingrid under his arm in a graceful move that brought squeals of delight from the audience. After one more wave, they laughed and turned away, moving past the last security guard.

  As soon as the door shut behind the troupe, the mood changed. They were in the theatre to do a job. Some of these vampires had paid fifty thousand dollars for their seats, and Mack had been reminded by his boss several times, that this was business and not pleasur
e.

  Alan directed the two ingénues to their respective rooms while Mack tested his access to the power, pleased to find that the source was strong. The actors were assigned large dressing rooms, the three women sharing one, the men another. Private dressing rooms were available, but thetas tended to be a communal lot before a show, choosing company rather than solitude.

  Alan had spent the last month composing and recording the music for the next few performances on the schedule. Different species enjoyed different styles of music, the vampires preferring music of a more classical nature, sometimes in a minor key. Alan was gifted musically, playing several instruments and singing in a strong, clear voice. Mack had accepted the fact that his musical skills were mediocre at best, so it was lucky for the audiences that he'd been moved to production manager at a young age.

  He thought back to the former Mack Hudson, his mentor, who'd died brutally at the hands of a master vampire while trying to break up a fight. He’d been a patient guy and a good teacher, always encouraging the troupe to go full out at rehearsals, which showed in the high quality of the performances. He’d urged them to spend some of their free time together as a troupe, planning trips to private beaches, barbeques in the backyard and movie nights. They’d grown to care about each other, which made it that much harder to say goodbye to any members moving on.

  Immediately after the murder, The Director's men came in to clear away the body and the blood. There’d never been a funeral or a proper memorial. The troupe was immediately sent out on tour, Alan and Mack forced to learn their jobs on the road, none of the troupe given time to grieve.

  His mentor and friend had died at the age of thirty-two, never knowing his real name.

  “Do you know your real name? Your parent’s names?” Ingrid had asked.