Playing with Passion Theta Series Book 1 (35 page)

"There you are." It was the head alpha
himself, smelling of scotch, and slurring his words. Maybe he was a
little nervous, too? "Hello, Gene." They shook hands formally, the
tension obvious between them. Joseph turned in her direction. "I
thought for a moment you'd blown me off." He laughed at his joke as
he tried to pull her away from Gene.

Retrieving control of her arm with a
firm yank, Ingrid spoke to him quietly, not wanting the alpha to
lose face in front of the other wolves, some of them huddling
nearby watching the action play out. “It's nice to see you again,
Mr. Herron.” He didn’t bother to hide his smirk. Ingrid took a deep
breath before continuing. “The Director made it clear that Gene and
I were to greet all of the VIP’s who'd attended the performance.
You've made an arrangement which I will honor, but first we must
meet our other obligations." Ingrid gave him a brilliant smile,
which he responded to with a laugh.

"Of course, Miss Hudson. I understand
all about giving and following orders." He seemed amused by her
professional attitude.

She ignored the comment. "Perhaps you
could have one of your pack introduce us around?"

"That will be
my
pleasure. Now that
you’re here, I don’t intend to take my eyes off you." He scanned
her body as if he'd been starved for a week and she was his
favorite dessert. A quick wave of his hand produced a server
carrying glasses of champagne, which Gene and Ingrid accepted
politely. They toured the room—her left hand resting on Gene’s
arm—and were met with glowing praise for their performance. Some of
the partygoers even appeared shocked that Ingrid wasn't bruised or
burned as her young vampire had been during the fantasy. Gene and
Ingrid answered their questions, signing autographs while politely
declining to pull up fantasies. Hugs and kisses on the cheek were
forbidden by the alpha, his rumbled growls directed at the males
who’d tried, had shot them down like tin cans on a practice
field.

One rather drunk wolf tried to grope
Ingrid, but Joseph Herron only had to glance at the large werewolf
behind him—a definite enforcer type—and the offending wolf was
escorted roughly outside, along with his very angry
mate.

"I apologize for my pack member’s
behavior, Ms. Hudson. He'll be dealt with harshly.” The alpha's
eyes burned with a dark rage as he'd watched the man being dragged
away.

"He did no real harm, Mr. Herron. He
was drunk and overly enthusiastic, not violent.”

“I appreciate your understanding
nature, but under the laws that I’ve set down for my packs, that
kind of behavior is a punishable offence." Embarrassing the alpha
in front of two troupe ingénues who'd be reporting back to The
Director, could have earned that man a death sentence. Joseph
Herron was no longer the warm host he’d been successfully playing
for the last half hour.

As they chatted with various groups, a
few of the wolves' mates and girlfriends had flirted with Gene.
Perhaps a couple of the attractive females were hoping to get a
little action of their own. On the surface, wolf matings did not
appear to be equal partnerships, and it seemed to Ingrid that these
females had wasted their love on partners who either ignored or
embarrassed them.

Laughter rang out from the corner as a
young wolf pulled his female closer, kissing her with passion.
Suddenly, Ingrid felt ashamed. How could she judge other
relationships when she'd never had a real one of her
own?

Mr. Herron had been a perfect host so
far, giving Gene and Ingrid all the time they needed, but she
sensed a change as the last couple wished them well and walked out
to the terrace.

"I believe you've spoken
to
everyone
in
the room, Ms. Hudson, even some of the servers, so The Director
cannot find you remiss in any way. Perhaps your partner, Gene,
would loosen his hold and excuse us. I have something special
planned for this evening and it doesn't involve him." He held out
his arm and Ingrid took it, returning his smile with a warm one of
her own. She wanted him to feel confident that the evening would go
exactly as he'd planned, because if he were even remotely
suspicious, The Director would find out.

Joseph tilted his head. “Smith, the
door.”

As the enormous bodyguard did as he
was told, Ingrid reached out with her energy, linking to an
anxious-looking Gene. When the connection opened, a warm rush of
his magic poured into her mind, its strength unexpectedly potent.
Ingrid clutched at the Alpha's muscular arm to steady her
knees.

"Are you all right, Ingrid? May I call
you Ingrid? We'll be getting closer this evening and it seems
ridiculous to continue to refer to you as Ms. Hudson. I'd like you
to call me Joseph." He allowed his gaze to run slowly over her
body, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

The elevator arrived, giving Ingrid
the chance to break away and walk quickly to the far corner, her
stomach twisted with nausea. She steadied herself by propping her
back against the elevator wall.

He was waiting for a response.
Somehow, she managed to flash him a smile. "I'm fine, Joseph.
Perhaps it's the champagne. Of course you may call me
Ingrid.”

She was buzzing with Gene's power,
causing a lightheaded sensation. It was a lot of energy to hold
contained without any kind of outlet. Ingrid sent out a tendril
toward Smith, deciding to touch his mind to see if he knew what
might be in store this evening and at the same time relieve some of
the pressure. The large wolf was having a strong fantasy about
smacking her around, then bending her over a table and screwing her
hard. He was also pissed at his alpha, because Mr. Herron was not
going to be inviting Smith to join in.

The elevator doors opened on the
twenty-first floor and the trio turned left. Joseph placed his hand
on Ingrid’s lower back, just above her ass, nudging her forward at
a fairly quick pace. A short, chubby man passed them in the hallway
and she instantly recognized him as Mack by the warm tingle of his
amazing energy. Her guy was here, like he’d promised; ready to step
in if she needed him. Taking in two deep breaths, she allowed her
body to relax, focusing her mind at the same time. Mack continued
to walk toward the elevator, as Smith used his keycard to open the
door. When they entered, she moved directly to the couch and sat
down, crossing her legs and relaxing into the cushions.

Joseph turned to Smith. "Stay right
outside the door. Don’t come in unless I call you. No one else is
allowed entrance.” He closed the door and turned, moving with the
feral grace most supernatural species developed at a young age.
Vampires glided across a room, demons slunk, but wolves were always
stalking, measuring up the rest of the room, perhaps sorting them
into categories: victim, enemy, playmate, or peer.

Joseph lowered his perfectly muscled
body onto the couch across from Ingrid. She wondered in which
category Joseph had placed her. Probably in the playmate and not
the enemy category. His mistake.

"Would you like a drink?" he
asked.

"No, thank you." She kept her smile
pleasant, but not seductive.

"I'll have a scotch. Neat." He arched
an eyebrow and waited for her to serve him. Ingrid nodded, walking
slowly to the bar, splashing two fingers of top shelf scotch into a
glass, and placing it on the coffee table between them.

"Sit here." He drank down his shot and
patted a spot on the couch next to him. She rose and sat where he'd
indicated,

"How does it feel to be a theta,
Ingrid? Do you enjoy your work?"

"Yes, of course."

"All of it?" He took hold of one of
her hands. His grip was firm, unyielding.

"It's quite creative."

"Even The Director pimping you
out?"

Ingrid sat up straighter. "I'm not a
whore, Mr. Herron.”

"You’ll call me Joseph, until I tell
you differently.” She nodded, remaining wary. “I paid The Director
fifty grand for my seat at the performance."

"I believe all the wolves at the party
downstairs paid him the same amount."

"Yes, but yesterday I paid
him an
additional
one hundred thousand in order to spend one-on-one time with
you. That makes you a whore. A very high-end whore, but still a
whore." He lifted her hand, trailing his lips over her palm. "Are
you worth the money, Ingrid?"

She needed to stall him. This was
moving way too fast. "Did the show live up to your
expectations?"

“The performance was the best I’ve
ever seen. I’ll be horny for weeks. Lucky you.”

She ignored the crude remark,
continuing to smile. “I’m so pleased that the troupe didn’t
disappoint you.” She glanced down at her hand, noticing the fading
burn scars on Joseph’s. “Did The Director do that? He always wants
his pound of flesh.”

“Perceptive, but I’d prefer you don’t
speak again until I allow it.”

“What?”

“That mouth is made for other
activities.” He pulled Ingrid up with a quick jerk, remaining
seated on the couch. In a flash, he’d opened his legs and pulled
her between them, trapping her hands behind her back. He nuzzled
her breasts, taking in deep breaths. "You smell so good. I knew
you'd smell like this." His hands released hers, moving to the hem
of her short dress then up her bare thighs, lifting the dress and
exposing her red lace panties. "Fucking gorgeous," he murmured
against her breasts.

Ingrid laced her fingers through the
wolf’s thick hair, touching his mind ever so gently, surprised that
his shields were so weak. She wouldn’t require much energy at all
to control him.

Joseph Herron was envisioning a
violent and passionate evening. Visions of BDSM scenes flashed
through his mind—not surprising, considering his history. He
intended to play the Dom, bringing a few 'toys' to this evening's
assignation, including a nasty looking cane, flogger, handcuffs
with spikes to dig into his subject’s wrists, and a spider gag. Fun
times.

Ingrid tapped into her psycore,
sending him a suggestion that he wasn’t really interested in
playing Dom tonight, and that a blowjob from Ingrid would suffice.
Once she knew the suggestion had taken affect, she’d project a
fantasy of herself on her knees between his legs. That should be
enough to make him a very happy wolf.

This kind of thing had worked plenty
of times with other supernaturals. Unfortunately, she’d
underestimated this alpha's strength.

At the first touch of
Ingrid’s energy, the powerful shields that he’d kept hidden locked
into place. His hands tightened on her arms as he shoved her away
from his body. "Your pimp, The Director, told me you'd try
to
Influence
me.
He said if I caught you doing it, I could kill you. You're not
going to make me kill you, are you, Ingrid? It would be such a
waste."

The hands he’d clamped on
her upper arms were squeezing hard enough to bruise. "I
can't
Influence
a
man as powerful as you, Joseph." She smiled sweetly at him, praying
that his wolf wouldn’t sense her fear.

He narrowed his eyes, pulling her next
to him on the sofa. "I don't believe you can, although The Director
hasn't explored your race's full potential.” He squeezed her chin
between his fingers to keep her gaze locked on his. “If I owned
troupes of thetas, I'd train you to fight, make you into soldiers,
a covert force. You're already athletes; dancers are so much
stronger than they appear. You'd pick up the basics fast. Your psy
powers could destroy armies, if you were turned into
weapons.

“Trained as an actor, you're weak." He
grabbed a hunk of her hair, yanking her face closer, his voice
lowering to a growl. "Exactly what I'm craving tonight." He licked
her earlobe, biting it hard, drawing blood. Ingrid managed not to
cry out, although her eyes filled with tears.

"Ah, Ingrid, I’m already entranced.
You're too stubborn and strong-willed to show weakness. Not one to
break easily, I imagine. Not the type to give in. Nothing like the
old Ingrid Hudson. She was crumpled up on the floor weeping before
I ever got started. I do so love a challenge." He bit the same
earlobe, ripping a larger hole. She cried out. "Mmm," he groaned.
"My first taste of your blood. I’ll make it a regular part of my
diet."

He released her reddened arms, taking
hold of her hands and dragging her into his lap. His movements were
so fast—too fast. She was shaking, furious with herself. She’d been
arrogant about her abilities and hadn’t taken into account how
devious he was.

"Your pimp won't let you
back into the troupe, you know, not after the stunt you pulled at
last night’s show and then later at the house. The Director was the
one to set up that block, to test you. And playing with
the source
was a
freshman move. His tech team knows every time anyone touches that
spooky bitch. The demons keep a keen eye on her, even though she
won’t cooperate with them."

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.”