Playing with Passion Theta Series Book 1 (22 page)

Gene moved with grace and strength,
refreshing Ingrid’s psycore energy with every twist of his body,
keeping eye contact to help them continue to focus. When Diane made
it a trio, Ingrid gave her a mental shove, bringing a gasp from
Diane, but also adding a new dimension of dark potency to her
character, the master vampire’s mate. Eyes flashing with
excitement, Diane grinned at Ingrid and shoved back.

This kind of exchange was normal
during a performance, but Ingrid was determined to stoke up Diane's
level even more, hoping she'd feel less nervous regarding the
experiments if Diane benefited from them herself. Gene joined in
with his energy exchange, a welcome warmth helping to fuel the
darkest moments of the last scenes. The torture, and finally the
burning, had the audience, many of whom were master vampires,
raging with blood lust and biting viciously into their blood
slaves’ necks, having brought them along to the show for just this
purpose.

At the end, the troupe was greeted
with deafening applause, a lot of exposed fang, as well as more
private body parts. Satisfied that she'd done her best, Ingrid
joined the other actors, lazily hugging and leaning on each other,
all of them exhausted.

Mack slipped his mini H-tab into his
pocket and took his time joining the group. "Is everyone feeling
all right?" They nodded, still smiling. "Good. Your performance was
extraordinary. Please gather your things and get ready for the
after-show party with Elias’ people at the Marquis."

Sam shook his head. "Do you really
think that's such a great idea? Ingrid, Gene and Di have them all
worked up. It'll be hard to keep them from acting out—maybe getting
violent and forcing one of the females to give blood.”

Ingrid’s skin crawled as
they all stared in her direction, knowing she’d probably be the
one
honored
in
that way. Without comment, she twisted to face Mack. He tightened
his mouth, saying to the group, "I'll morph and come too. I won't
let anything happen." The PM wasn’t usually welcome at these kinds
of parties, but Mack could disguise himself as a guard or a server
or even a vampire.

The rest of the troupe did as
instructed, but Ingrid stuck around to hear the truth. "Tell
me."

Mack kept his expression neutral. “The
Director wants you to take care of Giovanni. He's the visiting
master from Solano."

"Take care of?"

"Not fuck or pull up a fantasy. He was
definite about that."

Ingrid took a moment to watch Mack's
face. Something else was up. "He's punishing me for some reason.
What did I do?"

"He sensed what you did with
Diane."

"He’s here?”

“He left.”

“I didn't pull up extra
power."

"He knows."

"Diane probably never created such a
realistic projection in her whole career."

"That's not the point. You took
initiative and went against his protocol. He won't tolerate much
more."

She was fuming. "Let's be honest here.
He wants me to blow this guy—like the whore I am."

"Ingrid..." He took a step forward,
reaching out with his hands, but she retreated.

"Or does he want me to give him blood?
I’ve been told theta blood is extra delicious. Or maybe The
Director would prefer he beat the shit out of me?"

"Please, listen..."

"Shut up, Mack." Shaking from a
combination of anger, fear, and betrayal, Ingrid pushed past her
production manager, her body a coiled spring. In the dressing room,
she ignored the worried looks of the other two females and cleaned
up, refreshing her makeup and hair. She changed her outfit in
record time, climbing into the limo next to Gene, surprised to find
Mack there, too. Maybe he wanted to make sure she didn't ditch the
limo and try to make a run for it.

"What's wrong, darlin'? You were great
tonight." Gene was rubbing her arm, but Ingrid couldn't bring
herself to look at him.

"Why don't you tell him?" Ingrid
glared at Mack, unable to hide the hurt. Her logical side knew it
wasn’t his fault, The Director was a cruel master, but right now,
she was having trouble thinking logically.

Mack delivered the bad news to Gene,
ending with, “I have an idea that could…”

"Fuck that. He's not touching
her."

Ingrid was pleased by
Gene’s vehemence, and she raised her voice to match. "He'll be
surrounded by his nest, the rest of the Italian contingent, along
with some of the New York hosts." Ingrid crossed her arms over her
chest, continuing to glare at Mack. "The Director gave his official
okay. I might as well be stark naked and wearing a sign around my
neck that says,
humiliate and abuse
me
.”

Mack started to speak up, but Gene
interrupted him. "Elias’s buddy can take me. I'll do whatever he
wants."

"Gene..." Ingrid placed her hand over
his.

Mack shook his head. "He doesn't swing
that way. The Director offered you first, but the guy only wants
Ingrid."

"Nice," she grumbled.

"If you two would listen and stop
interrupting, I have this figured out." Mack was starting to sound
as pissed off as she and Gene did.

What did he have to be angry about?
"Really? Do tell." She leaned back in her seat, refusing to
acknowledge he was capable of having a good idea.

Mack ignored her. "He wants Ingrid.
We'll give him Ingrid. I'll morph. He'll never know it isn't
her."

Ingrid and Gene were completely
speechless.

Gene recovered first. "You'd...?" He
grinned, opening his mouth wide and pretending to lick something
with his tongue. Ingrid elbowed him in the ribs.

Mack laughed. "I'm not blowing the
guy. I'll say something about the size of his dick or
something...make him angry. Then maybe he'll beat me up and be
happy."

Gene was chuckling. "That would be
completely out of character for Ingrid. She’d never smart-mouth
anyone." They looked her way, maybe hoping for a smile, but she was
still simmering in the corner. "C'mon, I was joking. Mack's got it
figured out. Why are you still mad?"

“Aren’t you angry when The Director
treats you like a whore?”

“Yes. But tonight, Mack’s the whore
and you’re off the hook.”

"But… what am
I
supposed to do? Sit in
the limo?"

"Yes," Mack said,
bewildered.

“At the risk of getting
whacked, I’m gonna say
duh
,” Gene added, ducking when her
shoe came flying toward his head.

Mack took on a thoughtful expression.
"You'll have to accompany me into the hotel, like you normally
would escort Ingrid."

"Can I grab your ass?" Gene was really
enjoying this.

"Try it and I'll kick you in the nuts
with my spiky heel."

"You're so violent, sugar. Keep it up.
It's hot." Even Ingrid had to admit the two of them together were
funny, but Mack was volunteering to put himself in real danger.
This was serious.

"Would you guys stop it, already?"
They turned in her direction, doing their best to look attentive.
"What if The Director is there?"

"He's not. He flashed out right after
the performance and called me from his Boston penthouse near the
Commons. I checked," Mack said.

Ingrid twisted her mouth in thought.
"I guess I should morph too, and sit in the front seat with Johnny,
like I'm his friend or something."

"Why don't you have Johnny park the
shuttle and get you something to eat? We're supposed to get picked
up again at two am." Mack rolled down the soundproofed security
window and asked Johnny about finding a restaurant.

"I know a great family-owned place on
eleventh. I can get you practically anything you want," Johnny
answered.

Leaning over, Ingrid took Mack's hand.
“You’re sure?”

“Don’t you know how I feel about you?”
The now-familiar warmth of his energy reached out to connect to
hers. “I can’t let them hurt you.”

“Thank you."

He squeezed her hand and smiled. "I've
thought a lot about what you said. This kind of shit has to stop.
I’m with you."

His warm breath brushed against her
hair, her vision narrowing to his stunningly handsome face,
blocking out everything else. She tilted her body forward, Mack’s
mouth beginning to open.

"We're here." Johnny called
out.

Suddenly Ingrid was smiling at her
mirror image, shocked at how quickly Mack had pulled off the
morph.

"Don't stop now! Kiss each other,
girls." Mack and Ingrid smacked Gene at the same time.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Ingrid was able to wiggle over the open divider
into the front seat without too much trouble, a sight Gene and Mack
enjoyed immensely. After stepping out of the limo and nodding to
the curious crowd that had gathered, Mack accepted Gene’s offered
arm, ignoring the amused glint in his eyes. No one bothered them in
the lobby or the elevator, and they easily located the large room
on the third floor.

Gene stuck around speaking to Elias, a
medium sized, dark-haired vampire who claimed to be descended from
ancient Egyptian demi-gods. Giovanni was introduced to them a few
minutes later, olive skinned and friendly, at least on the surface.
After a few silent moments where the ancient master simply stared
at his Italian guest, Giovanni nodded. Mack guessed a bargain had
been reached. Elias kissed Mack’s hand and escorted Gene to the
other side of the room, introducing him to some females who looked
extremely pleased to meet with the handsome theta.

Giovanni paid special attention to
Mack’s version of Ingrid, holding the ingénue’s hand firmly in
place at the crook of his arm. No slipping quietly out of the room
would be allowed. He did his best to be charming—in a master
vampire kind of way—but vampires rarely understood that slaves who
were being sold to them for sex were not terribly interested in
being charmed.

“I particularly enjoyed torturing your
female vampire, Ms. Hudson.” His accent was strong, but still
comprehensible. “Her screams sent delightful shivers through my
body.”

Mack was confused by the comment. Did
this guy really think an actor would like to hear that? “You
connected to Dave?” Mack asked, smiling with a tense jaw. When he
made a fist, a habit when he was in a tight situation, it occurred
to him that as Ingrid, he had much longer nails.

Maybe I can claw the guy’s
eyes out
.

“Yes, your male Diva. He was quite
competent.” Dave had been Diane’s second in command, a vampire
enforcer who did most of the actual torturing in the performance.
“However, your character filled me with lust and a keen thirst. I
am afraid my blood slave did not survive the performance.” Not
knowing exactly how he was supposed to respond to that remark, Mack
allowed Giovanni to lead him to the bar. He declined the offer of a
drink politely and asked only for a glass of cold water, needing to
hold on to his focus in order to deal with this powerful
supernatural.

After half an hour of
mingling, Elias tapped Giovanni on the shoulder, probably giving
him the okay to leave with his
date
. “Signorina, perhaps you would
accompany me for a private dinner, upstairs in my
suite?”

Mack agreed immediately. There was no
reason to delay any further.

It was all so smoothly
done. The elevator dropped them at the twenty-eighth floor, where
another of the Italian masters, Paolo, happened to be waiting
outside the room. Inside, a table of gourmet food had been laid
out, but Mack didn't think the two vamps would be patient enough to
wait around while
Ingrid
ate.

They wanted blood. It was clear in the
way they looked at Ingrid's graceful neck and the hint of fang they
weren't interested in hiding. Blood usually led to sex or violence,
so Mack would have to think on his feet to get out of this
situation, all without putting the real Ingrid in danger from The
Director. Their boss had agreed that Elias could pass her over to
Giovanni. If the Italian master vamp ended the evening unhappy,
she’d be the one held responsible. The Director probably knew
nothing about the second vampire, but even so, Paolo’s
dissatisfaction could also end up being Ingrid’s
responsibility.

Mack took in a deep breath, watching
their eyes move lower. Although popular culture believed vampires
always went for the throat, in these sexually charged situations,
they preferred to take blood from the breasts of their female
victims or sometimes the inner thigh.

“Are you hungry, Signorina?” Giovanni
certainly seemed to be.

“No, thank you.”

“Then I shall ask you to please turn
in place. Slowly. Paulo and I would like to look at you.” His
friend Paulo said something in Italian. “Put your hair up, please.
Your neck and your breasts are quite lovely.”

Mack changed his hair with a thought,
beginning to turn, hands balled at his sides. He was furious to be
put in this degrading situation, only it wasn’t really him on
display. This kind of humiliation was common for actors in every
troupe. Worse things would follow. How could he have disregarded
this crap for so many years?