Playing with Passion Theta Series Book 1

by Gayle Parness

  Joseph licked her neck, making sure to pause at her pulse. “He might decide to retire the whole troupe because of your rebellious nature." He sniffed her hair, gathering it in his free hand. "But he wouldn’t kill you. He’d make you watch. Then he’d pass you around to his buddies. Or maybe he’d sell you to me. You know, I could put in a good word for the rest of them, if you come to me freely. I’d tell The Director I tortured you and even under the worst pain you swore the troupe knows nothing about what you can do with your powers.”

  “Mr. Herron—”

  “Shut up.” He licked from her shoulder to her injured ear, his mouth hovering there. “What would you do for me, if I saved your friends?"

  “He’s not going to retire me or the troupe.” Her shivers were out of control, her teeth beginning to rattle.

  The wolf’s laugh was deep. “Call him.”

  “What?”

  “Go ahead. He’s waiting for the call.”

  Ingrid’s hands were shaking as she keyed in the number. “Ingrid.” It was the first time her call had gone directly to him, bypassing Annie.

  “Is it true?”

  “What did Joseph say?”

  “I’m out of the troupe.”

  “True.”

  “The rest of the troupe is in danger of being retired.”

  “True.”

  “They did nothing wrong.”

  “Prove it.”

  “How?”

  “At dawn I will come to Joseph’s suite and you will open your mind to me completely—every shield dropped. If I see that the rest of the troupe is innocent, I will allow them to continue, with another Ingrid, of course.”

  “I understand.”

  “Behave tonight, and I might allow you to live. I know of an instructor position you might be suited for.”

  “Thank you, sir.” He ended the call without another word.

  Joseph was watching her, his H-tab open to a 3-D holo of Gene and Ingrid waving at the crowd at a movie release.

  “I’d be the last theta The Director would place in a training institute. He’d be afraid I’d pass along my rebellious ways,” she said quietly.

  “Smart girl. But don’t despair. The Director isn’t as powerful as he believes.”

  “Perhaps you’re not as powerful as you believe.”

  “I know what I am and what I’m capable of. You and your friends are the monkey wrench in his well-oiled machine.”

  “What is it you really want?”

  “Many things. I want to smear your naked body with your blood and lick it off. I want to hurt you and fuck you and possess you—make you my alpha female if you survive the trials.”

  “I’m not a wolf.”

  “That can be remedied.”

  “The bites might kill me.” If someone wasn’t born a wolf, there was still a chance for them to catch the virus. The only problem was, they had to submit to a series of very painful bites over a period of one month—full moon to full moon.

  He laughed. “You’re the strongest female I’ve ever encountered. How many could stand up to the wrath of The Director and survive? And with your magic, you would have every member of my packs licking your feet and groveling in the dirt. It would be quite entertaining.”

  “Or nauseating.”

  “If you give yourself to me, body and soul, all the wolves and allies I have at my disposal will help you bring down The Director. Your friends will be safe.”

  “You expect me to believe that? You and he are buddies.”

  “The Director’s a creature not of this world. He has no true ties to the earth or to any being walking upon it. He plays with us like we’re the latest video game, and when he becomes bored, he’ll destroy us and move on to the next world. I need allies to stop him.”

  “Why do you imagine my troupe has the desire or ability to fight The Director?”

  “Because you have the desire and the ability to convince the others. From the moment you were branded by rape, you’ve worked toward that end. I watched you as a young female, ignoring orders, experimenting with your powers, searching for others equal to your level. I was the one who suggested to The Director that you be placed in the Hudson River Troupe.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “Twelve years ago, The Director began digitally tagging the children in the institute who seemed to have extraordinary skills. You were one of the first. I captured the demon that developed the program and convinced him to give me the passkey. I’ve made it a hobby to follow the progress of the females. There are quite a few who’ve evolved, although not to your level.”

  “That can’t be true.” Ingrid took a closer look at Joseph. “Did you visit me at the institute?”

  “Multiple times.”

  “You were one of those men behind the mirror, watching me undress?”

  “And bathe and…”

  Ingrid stood. “You’re a disgusting pervert. I’d never help a dog like you.” Calling a werewolf a dog was the ultimate insult.

  “Careful, bitch." The blow to her stomach was lightning fast, pitching her forward onto her hands and knees. She tried to gasp, but she’d temporarily lost the ability to breathe. Clutching at the back of her dress, the furious wolf ripped it away, exposing her red lace bra and panties. “You’ll speak to me with respect, whore, or I’ll send you back to The Director in pieces.” He placed a foot on her ass, pushing her all the way to the floor.

  Joseph Herron had a hair trigger. Suddenly, reports of the large number of alphas he’d personally murdered made sense.

  She was on her stomach, panting. He tucked a foot under her hip and rolled her onto her back. "Your body is fucking perfect." He was on top of her instantly, grinding his groin into hers. He had her pinned down with his large body, his mouth returning to her injured ear. "I can smell your fear and it makes me hard.”

  Furious, Ingrid forced herself to focus, gathering a large amount of power and attacking his mind with a vision of several military types pointing guns at his head. This time his shields crumbled like a sandcastle, and the shock had him springing up and backing away, his hands flattened in front of his body. "Hold on. I haven’t hurt her. Put the guns away.”

  Ingrid used the arm of the couch to help her get up. His punch must have bruised a couple of ribs and the pain was bad. “Don’t do it.” She spoke to her fantasy rescuers to convince the wolf they were real.

  “Where’d your friends come from, Ingrid?” The alpha began to look suspicious. “Smith wouldn’t have gone down without a fight and I didn’t hear a sound. The soldiers simply stood with their guns pointed at his head, silent and menacing. Joseph’s eyes suddenly widened.

  "Motherfucker." He jumped at Ingrid, twisting her arm in a painful way and throwing her down on the couch. She landed on her back. Oh god, her ribs hurt.

  He straddled her hips, pinning her arms with his spread knees. "You're a sneaky little cunt, aren't you?" He yanked on her hair again, tearing some out. Tears welled in Ingrid’s eyes. "You had your chance to be civil and you blew it. So this is how tonight works. I do what I want and you keep your mouth shut, unless I want it open." He slapped her face hard and she cried out, unable to stop the sound. "I think we need to make a few adjustments in your attitude first."

  Ingrid tasted blood in her mouth, her body trembling with the adrenalin rush and throbbing with pain. Joseph smiled and slapped her again, forcing her head to the right. Blood splattered on the couch cushion beneath her face. He jerked her around again, turned on by the pain he was delivering.

  In desperation, she gathered in more power. Maybe she could push him away, or put him to sleep or something—anything—but she was having difficulty focusing through the physical pain of the repeated blows. She’d waited too long to use her power, and now she’d be in serious shit if she didn’t get her act together and deal with this freaking sadist. Gritting her teeth, she reached out to the power her guys had shared with her, a cool balm to soothe the hurt and help her focus.


  Joseph frowned, hesitating. He seemed unsure of what to do next, finally deciding to move toward the bar and pour himself a drink. Ingrid had sent him a jumbled-up onslaught of energy with nothing specific in mind, confusing him. Unfortunately, when she sat up to focus her magic with something more concrete, the room spun in circles, causing the energy she’d used to flux.

  The wolf was on her again in a flash, the bottle of scotch forgotten on the bar.

  He shoved her off the couch and onto the floor, yelling, "You're a stubborn little bitch.” He grabbed Ingrid’s forearm, wrenching her shoulder as he dragged her up enough to deliver another violent slap. Blood splattered on his hand and shirt and he made a show of licking his fingers. Her lips were bleeding from both corners. "Why don’t we start with that blow job you suggested?" Forced to her knees, Ingrid cringed in pain, crying out, her mouth and ribs screaming.

  The sound of talking outside the hall door interrupted Joseph’s plans. Reaching behind his back, he pulled a gun from his waistband, resting it against her temple. The wolf growled into her ear. "This one isn't pretend like your soldier’s guns, so keep your mouth shut." He pulled her in front of him like a shield, backing them away from the door.

  An argument was in play between Smith and another man, his voice vaguely familiar. Ingrid hoped it wasn't Mack or Gene pulling a rescue. If what Joseph said was true and The Director was giving her away, then she was practically a dead woman already. There was no reason for her guys or the rest of the troupe to get sucked into the black hole along with her.

  The argument was loud enough to hear easily. "But I was told to bring this package to Room 2512 and deliver it personally to Mr. Joseph Herron. I have orders not to give it to anyone else." Where had she heard that voice before?

  "Well, that's too fucking bad, because I'm not disturbing Mr. Herron. Hand it over, and I'll sign for it. Hey!"

  Something large banged against the door then hit the ground, sounding suspiciously like a body. “Smith!” Joseph shouted, but there was no response.

  Thinking she had no time to waste, she gathered up every ounce of psy and axis power she could manage and sent a vision to Joseph of his gun heating up, melting in his hand. He screamed in pain, dropping the weapon and running to the ice bucket on the bar.

  The fantasy pain she’d created was finely focused, fueled by anger and intent, similar to what she’d done in Atlanta. Stepping closer, she took a clue from Gene and used Influence to make him believe he had the worst migraine of all time. He fell to his knees, groaning, clutching at his head, and shutting his eyes. No alpha wolf would put himself in such a vulnerable position in front of an enemy, unless he was truly helpless, lost in the fantasy she’d projected. As long as she kept him from strengthening his mental shields, he was hers to hurt, to torture, to kill.

  Smiling, Ingrid picked up the perfectly normal gun he’d dropped and whacked him with the butt. He collapsed in a heap. She might never be a sadistic prick like him, but the sound of the gun connecting to that asshole’s head was the sweetest music ever.

  Holy hells, it worked. She’d made some mistakes, but even so…

  Someone was fiddling with the lock on the door. Ingrid crouched behind the bar, leaving Joseph where he’d landed. She had a gun, plus she had her mind, a more formidable weapon than she’d imagined. Gene Stone had taken Ingrid to an Atlanta shooting range and taught her how to use a stun-glock, the weapon often used by The Director’s demon soldiers. He’d also taught her to take apart the handgun, learning proper maintenance.

  For the first time in Ingrid’s life, she didn’t feel like a victim. She lifted the gun and aimed, confident that she’d hit what she was aiming at.

  The rear end of a man in a uniform appeared first, not a fair target in her estimation. He was grunting, apparently pulling something heavy. It turned out to be the prone form of Smith. The bodyguard’s other end was being managed by a young, red-haired woman who closed the door behind her when Smith was all the way inside. That was strange enough, but the biggest shock came when Ingrid recognized the young man who'd dropped Smith in the middle of the room. He was crouching down and feeling for a pulse.

  Ingrid stood, conjuring herself into a dress so she could meet her rescuers in more than her fancy lingerie.

  "Jawey?" Because her mouth was so swollen, her words weren't all that clear, but Johnny grinned, managing to understand just fine.

  "Put the gun down. I'm saving your ass."

  "Saymyonass." Ingrid scowled at him.

  The girl rolled her brown eyes. "From the looks of you, a few more punches and you'd have been out cold."

  “He’s ow coe.” She pointed toward the alpha with the gun still in her hand, waving it around proudly, but keeping it aimed at the floor just in case.

  Johnny laughed, striding forward to gently pry the gun out of her hand. The redhead jogged to the ice bucket on the bar, wrapping some ice in a bar towel and pressing it against Ingrid’s mouth. "Okay, you did good, but there are rooms downstairs. Can’t have you shooting through the floor and killing the honeymoon couple.”

  Ingrid looked from one to the other. “Wy?”

  “We're getting you out of here, fast."

  The female handed Ingrid the Ice. “Try not to talk." Ingrid had her arms wrapped protectively around her middle, the pain still raw. “Did the wolf injure your ribs?” Ingrid nodded, gasping when the female got close to a tender area.

  Johnny glared in her direction. “Take it easy, Liz.”

  “Sorry.”

  "My troo?" Ingrid pointed out the door, worried about the others.

  Johnny answered. "We have them. They're all safe and out of here, except Gene and Mack. They insisted on waiting for you in the shuttle. Tom and I didn't feel like knocking them out and carrying them to the vehicle, so we were forced to agree,” he laughed. Ingrid thought the young man was amazingly upbeat for someone who was in horrible danger of being killed by Joseph’s pack.

  Ingrid tried to smile but she was certain it ended up looking more like a wince.

  Johnny continued, "We need you to morph into a maid now. That'll be the easiest way to get you out of here."

  "Noo, I..."

  He shook his head and scowled. "Ingrid, please morph now."

  She was hurting and scared and not in the mood to be ordered around. "You can't..."

  Johnny scowled. "I warned you." And out of the blue, an enormous blast of magic hit her upside the head.

  "Ow, ow!" She glanced at her reflection in the ornate mirror hanging by the bar and was astonished to see a middle aged, five foot two inch human woman, dressed in the hotel maid uniform. There was no blood splattered on her dress, and her lips weren’t swollen at all. Unfortunately, morphing didn’t take away the underlying injuries. Ingrid’s mouth and ribs were still on fire.

  "Wha…how...?" she sputtered.

  Johnny’s hand on her shoulder brought her back to the present. "I’ll answer all of your questions later. Right now, I need you to stay safe. Make a left outside the room and head to the service elevator." Her purse flew through the air from Liz’s direction and she was able to catch it easily. Johnny handed her a stack of clean towels to use as a prop, then moved toward Joseph, still resting on the carpet.

  “Are you going to kill them?” Ingrid asked.

  “And have the dozens of wolf packs he controls after my hide? No thanks.”

  “We should talk about this later.” The female took her arm, scowling at the delay. "C'mon Ingrid. Follow me." Liz’s morph into a maid was as smooth as any morph Ingrid had ever achieved.

  "Wow." Ingrid followed her down the hall and into the elevator like an obedient puppy. Despite her close call with death and the pain she was enduring, Ingrid was grinning like a monkey. Her life as an ingénue in a theta troupe was over, and she was way too excited to be as terrified as logic would dictate.

  Then again, maybe she should re-think her happy thoughts. She was in an elevator with a dangerous stranger who might decide to ki
ll her or ransom the troupe back to The Director for a boatload of money. Thoughts of The Director had her shivering. When the creep found out what happened with the wolf, he'd send his best people after her and possibly the entire troupe. Their chances of survival were dismal at best.

  Tonight, a door had been slammed shut and bolted down tight. But someone unexpected had drilled an escape hatch into the floor, and Ingrid was jumping down the rabbit hole without a second’s hesitation. She pulled out her purse mirror. Yep, she was smiling again.

  Liz took a few steps back, giving Ingrid as wide a berth as was possible in an elevator.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  When Mack saw the two small females dressed as maids walking toward the van, he finally allowed his lungs to take in air. Gene and he were in the rear seat, but Mack shoved Gene into the middle row, so Ingrid could join him in the back.

  Gene laughed. “I don’t want to hear any heavy breathing back there.”

  The man in the driver's seat had introduced himself as Tom. He’d been in communication with Johnny and had told them what Liz and Johnny had found in the suite where the alpha had taken Ingrid.

  The first maid stuck her head in the side door. "I'm Liz. You need to morph, guys. Pick something generic. We're traveling back to Staten Island as soon as Johnny finishes." Once inside the shuttle, the brunette maid transitioned quickly into an auburn-haired woman dressed in a business suit, wearing glasses, her hair pulled back in a bun.

  "Where are you taking us?” Gene asked.

  “A safe house.” Liz answered.

  “What's going to happen when those wolves wake up?" Ingrid asked.

  "They're the least of our problems. Morph."

  Gene and Mack transitioned into average looking businessmen in off-the-rack suits, and Ingrid went for the same look. All the guys laughed at her thick black mustache.

  "Hey, I simply thought one of us should change sex, too. In case anyone who stops us is counting."

  “If anyone stops us it’ll be the last thing they do.” Tom muttered.

  Johnny arrived and slid in next to Gene. "Did the wolves wake up?" Ingrid asked.