Playing with Passion Theta Series Book 1 (26 page)

"Yeah. I don't know if it's
permanent.”

"Fuck...did mine change too?" Ingrid
whipped off the glasses.

He smiled. "Yeah. You're even more
beautiful."

"Bring me a mirror." He came back into
the room a minute later with a small shaving mirror, but he didn't
hand it to her, even though she grabbed at it.

He could see that she was upset. "It's
only your eye color. You can morph it to any color you want. Don't
flip out."

She nodded, still biting her lip as
she lifted the mirror. Her eyes were...incredible. The sea green
had turned into an iridescent radiance with swirls of shimmering
greens and blues. "Holy hells."

"Does anything hurt?" He sat on the
bed beside her, taking her hand, bringing it to his mouth to kiss
her palm. He'd shaved and dressed in cargo shorts and a tee
shirt.

"I can't tell. Do you think I can sit
up now?"

"Try."

She did, slowly, and waited.
Fortunately, nothing spun around. "I’m good, I guess. Did you
always have that scar?" She pointed at the hand she was still
clutching.

"Yeah, only it used to be too faded to
see clearly."

"Oh."

He had a strange
expression as he stared at her. "I can see...it's weird, but I
can
see
what
happened to us. Or maybe it's that I
know
. We burned a new pathway
through our bodies and into our brains, waking up something new. I
feel more aware—more certain. I don't know how long this'll last,
but I think when we exchanged energy, we did something more than
have
super sex
.

Ingrid laughed, swinging her legs over
the side of the bed. He offered her his hand and she smiled and
stood slowly. "Ow."

"What hurts?"

"I'm sore."

"Where?"

"Where do you think?" She
fisted her hand on her hip and gave him a
look
.

"Oh," he said a little sheepishly. "If
it makes you feel any better, so am I."

"Actually it does." She walked slowly
toward the bathroom, grumbling. "Freakin' piston on the Titanic."
Ingrid heard him laugh as she shut the door.

He knocked. "I'll leave some clothes
on the bed. Don't disappear, we have to talk."

"You really think I'd try to climb out
the window? I'm naked and I can hardly walk." He was quiet. "I can
hear you grinning."

"I swear, I'm not
grinning."

Ingrid could so hear the laughter in
his voice. "Liar. Super-sex my ass."

"Your ass is perfect. I'll make us
something to eat."

"Good. And a side of
aspirin."

He chuckled. "It
was
your
idea."

He was lucky she was behind a locked
door. Turning on the shower, she allowed herself a small smile of
her own.

CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO

Mack had lied. He
had
been smiling. But
what guy wouldn't have smiled, after being compared to a piston in
a massive engine?
C'mon.

He heated some of Anthony's pasta
fagioli, sliced up half a loaf of semolina bread and took the
butter and the grated cheese out of the fridge. Looking at the
meager fare, he threw together a quick salad, returning to his room
to pull a tee shirt and a pair of boxers out of a drawer to leave
on the bed for Ingrid. Setting the bottle of aspirin on the kitchen
table, he turned on the viewer, hoping to see if anything was on
about last night's show.

Because all media in what was left of
his country was controlled by an archdemon, a member of an
anal-retentive race, the New York stations were limited to four.
Channel One was the local news, weather and traffic station, which
also had interviews with citizens expounding on the benefits of
living in their lovely city. Channel Two was sports or live
executions; Channel Three was entertainment, such as soap operas,
reality shows and orgies. And Channel Four reported on the politics
of their great nation, along with the political climate around the
world.

Although an alpha werewolf was the
current president of the country and a master vampire the current
King of England, the real power rested in the hands, or talons, of
the most ancient of species. The top rung was made up of the four
archdemons who’d arrived one hundred and fifty years ago to murder
millions of humans in a bloody coup. They’d divided the world into
blocks of territory, each one of the four taking a section of the
earth and calling it his or hers. Not every country or continent
was claimed, the remainder of the planet being left to its own
devices.

Today, Channel One and Two had nothing
that interested Mack, but when he saw what was on the entertainment
station, he decided to forego the holographic feature of the
viewer, which ensured images remained on the flat screen and didn’t
pop into his kitchen.

Elias, the top master vampire in NYC,
and Giovanni, his Italian cohort, were being interviewed about last
night's performance.

The interviewer was a blonde haired
and blue-eyed witch named Cedar. Humans rarely worked on camera
anymore and weren't welcomed into the higher supernatural circles.
These two vamps would have been insulted if they'd been interviewed
by a lesser species.

After the introductions, the witch
smiled her plastic smile and crossed her long legs provocatively.
"We heard through the grapevine that the new Ingrid Hudson
performed for you and your friends, Elias. Could you give up some
of the details?"

Elias' smile was lusty as he quickly
checked out the witch, turning toward the camera, his dark eyes
glittering with power. "Yes, we had that pleasure. She's quite a
beauty, but her real talent lies in her ability to project. I don't
believe I've ever felt sorry for a projection before, but when she
began to scream as she burned, I was tempted to hose her down." He
and Giovanni laughed together, their voices richly suggestive as
they shared their private joke.

Giovanni spoke directly into the
camera, his accent thick, but his words still clear. "I could smell
her flesh burning. In fact…” he lifted his hand to sniff his
knuckles seductively, "…I think I can still smell her
blood."

Mack wanted to throw the beer he was
holding through the screen. "That's my blood, asshole." He took a
long swig.

The interview continued. "Do you think
you'll be booking another show in the near future?"

Elias answered. "Oh, yes. The Director
has assured me we'll be able to book several in the next few
months."

"Will you also be returning,
Giovanni?"

"Si, if my friend and ally
will be so kind as to invite me. I don't remember ever feeling so
refreshed after a theta performance." He looked at the witch with
hungry eyes. "I can't wait to share this with others, Cedar."
Vampires
shared
by taking and giving blood, usually right before
sex.

The witch, who was falling under his
spell, took in a deep breath, her breasts rising and falling
seductively. Both vampires noticed. When she spoke again, her voice
had taken on a huskier tone. "I understand that you hosted the
Hudson Thetas after the performance. What was that
like?"

"They were all quite
charming." Part of the deal with The Director was
never
to say anything
specific about what might have happened with Ingrid or any of the
others at one of the private events.

"Come on, Elias, something juicy must
have gone on." She pouted.

“I assure you, nothing juicy. We
invited them for dinner and drinks and they were kind enough to
come."

"I’m sure they were very
happy to
come
,”
Cedar giggled suggestively. “I'd be happy to spin a few spells with
Gene Hudson, myself. What's he like?"

"He's quite intelligent and amiable.
Perhaps The Director could arrange an interview?”

Her mouth twisted into a frown. "I'm
sure he could. But I don't think I can afford the price the
Director would charge." She plastered on another phony smile. "Do
you plan on extending another dinner invitation after the next
performance?"

"Absolutely. In fact, we've already
booked a room for next month."

"Where?"

"You are quite aware we can't tell you
that." He leaned over and touched her knee. "You're

asking questions you shouldn't ask,
wicked girl."

Cedar licked her lips, shifting in her
seat.

Mack had to shut it down. It was
turning into one of those reality soap operas where everyone starts
ripping off their clothes and jumping each other. Since
supernaturals took over the airwaves, nothing was banned, including
graphic sex and live executions. The audience of a show like this
would be glued to their screens, especially if Elias decided to
take a little blood from one of Cedar’s large, yet tender breasts.
Lately, Mack found himself mostly watching old movies or re-runs of
old TV shows he found online.

Mack was startled when he
heard Ingrid sigh behind him. He hadn't noticed her come into the
room, and he wondered how long she'd been listening to the
interview. He spun around, smiled, and opened his arms, hoping he'd
been forgiven. She seemed pleased by his attempt to call a truce
and walked straight into them, leaning her head into the hollow
under his shoulder. He folded her against his body, taking in the
scent of his soap and shampoo, finding it strangely comforting that
she smelled of his personal products—another way of broadcasting to
the world,
this female is
mine
. When she snuggled closer, he
squeezed more tightly, hoping to keep her close for as long as he
could.

CHAPTER
TWENTY-THREE

In his arms, Ingrid was at peace.
Here, she could allow herself to trust that she was safe. If The
Director broke down the door to drag her away, she could pretend
that Mack would be able to protect her. All her life, she'd worked
to find a way to protect herself, and she’d continue to work toward
that end, but it was heaven to let someone else shield her from a
world full of sharp edges and dangerous pitfalls. Ingrid wrapped
her arms around his waist, taking in his delicious
scent.

This male was
hers
.

“I hope she didn't hear
that interview.”

Ingrid wondered why he’d phrased his
question in such a way, as if she wasn’t standing right next to
him. "I heard the interview from the point where Elias said we'd be
invited for dinner again. Don't tell me what else they said, I
don't want to know."

He urged her away, his expression
curious. "I didn't say that out loud."

Ingrid lifted an eyebrow. "Yes you
did. I heard you."

He tilted his head and jerked it
toward the table, surveying her with a strange expression. "Maybe
we should eat."

Ingrid shrugged and sat on the end.
The food smelled so great, she dug right in, feeling much better
after her shower.

"Do you like the soup?"

"Delicious. Did you make
it?"

"
It's from Vinnie's.
"

"He's a genius."

Mack froze, swallowing down his soup
and hoping not to choke on it. "I didn't say where it was from, at
least not out loud."

"I'm not poking around in your head, I
swear," she protested.

"I know. My inner shields
are up."

Ingrid slammed her spoon back on her
plate. "Oh, god. I heard you say your shields are up, but you
didn't talk…I mean, your lips didn't move."

"Let me try something."

"Okay, what are you trying?" There was
a pause. "Did you say something?"

"Yes, but this time, I toughened my
shields the way I do around The Director."

"What did you say?"

"That you look better in my clothes
than I do."

She smiled. "Say something again, with
your shields weaker."

"
You're so beautiful."

Ingrid stood, lightheaded with worry.
"This isn't good. I'm going to start hearing what people are
thinking. Do I really want to hear what Diane and Dave are
thinking? Crap."

Mack eased her back into her chair
with a hand on her arm. "Toughen up your shields and you can keep
them out."

"I guess. Focus on
me.
Can you hear what I say?"

"Yes."

"We're freaks. They're
gonna execute us for sure, now."
Ingrid
couldn't stop the tears glistening in her eyes.
"It's my fault—me and my stupid experiment."

“Forget The Director.”

“Look who’s acting irresponsibly
now.”

He reached across the table and
covered her hand with his larger, calloused one, calming her
instantly. "Ingrid, look at me.” She hesitated, but met his gaze.
“The last few hours with you have been incredible. I've loved all
the firsts and the super sex." He hesitated, easing her nerves with
a sexy smile. "But it’s not only that. I'm finally getting to know
who you are on the inside—cracking that mask you wear to protect
yourself."