“You never told me about the barfing part.”
“Mack barfed. Not me.”
“Really?” Gene was back to talking normally.
“He woke up first and got up too fast.”
“Well, thanks for the heads up.” Ingrid gave him a playful shove, positioning the sunglasses. They were pink with rhinestones on the sides. He looked ridiculous enough to make her laugh out loud. "What’s so funny?"
"You can open your eyes and sit up now, but take it slow." She helped him sit and swing his legs over the side of the bed. “You okay, genius?”
"Yeah. I think. Things look a lot sharper, even with the sunglasses. You smell..." He brought her wrist to his nose. "You smell so delicious. Yum." Ingrid pulled her hand away, laughing. “Did I hurt you while we were…?”
Ingrid was always surprised by his capacity to think about others before himself. "Not you." She automatically covered the breast The Director had brutalized.
"Should I get you some ice?"
Ingrid examined his scratched arm and shoulder, rubbing his cheek where she’d smacked it. “I’m healed, like you appear to be.”
“Yep. I’m good. The lamp, however, will probably never recover. I hope Diane wasn’t too fond of it.”
"She’ll live.” Ingrid twisted him around, pushing him toward the bathroom. “Go look in the mirror. You're going to need to morph your eye color."
He did as she suggested. "What the hell?"
"We don't want to freak out the rest of the troupe."
"This happened to Mack and you, too?"
"Yep...see?" She let go of the glamour that hid the new iridescent shade.
"Whoa. That looks amazing. Mack's are this color?"
"No, his turned bright copper, maybe 'cause his eyes were so much darker to begin with, or maybe it signifies something else. We haven't had much time to figure it out."
"It could be an axis-psycore difference.”
Ingrid nodded. "Always working through the puzzles, right?"
He winked, adding an impish grin. "Evil genius, remember?" He wrinkled his nose. “I’m heading back to my own room to shower, but I’ll be returning with dessert.”
“You don’t have to stay with me.”
“We have strategy to plan, Watson.”
After her own quick shower, Ingrid sat once more in the window seat, the clouds having cleared away enough to see a few stars. Gene wasn’t back, so she turned her thoughts to the party taking place the following night.
Power-wise, she was topped up, which meant she should have enough magic to pull up a convincing fantasy to fool a dominant alpha werewolf. Of course, this wasn’t just any wolf. Even though Joseph Herron’s aura had pulsed with only the basic magic born in the cells of every wolf, he’d become the top alpha of the tri-state region by defeating and absorbing the powers of dozens of now-dead alpha wolves. He was smart enough, and savvy enough, to hide his strength around people who didn’t need to know his full potential. Even The Director might not discern the truth. But Ingrid had sensed the strength, cunning and cruelty of this male the moment they’d locked gazes backstage.
Gene was back with bowls of ice cream, watching Ingrid carefully as they ate. He pointed his spoon at her. “You’re trying to come up with a way to manipulate the alpha’s mind, right? So he thinks he did—whatever?”
“Haven’t gotten that far yet. Right now I’m weighing his strengths and weaknesses.”
“His weakness is his ego.”
“And his ignorance.”
“He doesn’t know what you can do.” She nodded. “Ingrid.” The tone of his voice drew her gaze to his. “What can you really do?”
“You saw the soldiers.” She swallowed down a few spoonfuls of the rich, creamy dessert, her muscles and bones needing to refuel as well.
“What else?” The question hung in the air. “Do you think I’d betray you?”
“Never. But…” She couldn’t tell him how much his friendship meant to her. How terrified she was of losing his respect.
“Friends don’t fuck each other over,” he snapped.
“I can make them believe whatever I want. I’ve…experimented on audience members. Confusing them, scaring them.”
“Have you killed?”
“By accident—and not an audience member.”
Gene spread his large hand over hers, stopping the trembling. “You can pull off a fantasy, but he'll be a tough sell. You'll need extra psy energy. I'll link to you while we’re at the party, right before you leave with him.”
“You’d do that?”
"Of course."
“You’re risking your life for me.” Ingrid turned away.
"You know that I care about you.” She felt awkward suddenly, but his gaze was sweet, not heated. “We’re thrown together without any choice. We end up in each other's arms to survive and then do our best at each performance to avoid extermination.”
“That’s exactly it.”
I always pictured myself with someone who really needed me—who'd look to me for protection. You're too bloody self-sufficient. Mack is the only guy I can think of who’s strong enough to keep you in line."
"In line?” she repeated with wide eyes.
"You should have been with Mack tonight. You're both so freakin’ stubborn. As your friend, I have to tell you, it’s extremely frustrating."
"I needed to bring you over." But he was right about one thing. If they were together, she'd burn him out with her crazy plans and schemes. Gene needed someone more grounded, and that wasn't her.
He continued, "If you can build a real relationship with Mack, I’ll be the first guy congratulating you. But just so we’re clear, I’m always going to feel protective. It's ingrained in my ingénue DNA. I’ll do whatever I can to keep you from getting hurt. But if it happens anyway, I’m here for you to claw at or slap around or experiment on, whatever comes to mind.”
He smiled warmly, looking absolutely adorable. Ingrid pouted, saying, "You're a whole lot easier to deal with than Mack."
He shrugged. "He's got the safety of the whole troupe on his shoulders. Anyway, I've heard that it's those differences that pull up the electricity and make sparks fly in a relationship." Gene actually wiggled his eyebrows.
"Right now we're in the middle of a brownout."
He ran his fingers through her hair, tapping Ingrid’s nose playfully with his index finger. “Tired?”
“Not at all.”
“Then c’mon, darlin', I’ll beat you at strip poker.”
After a few hands, Gene asked Ingrid if he could stay, probably sensing that she didn't want to be alone. They crawled into bed, dressed in relatively modest sleeping attire, curling up together. The outside world would probably never understand, but this kind of physical closeness strengthened acting partners in ways the reboot alone never could.
“I’ll make sure Alan makes pancakes tomorrow,” he whispered, yawning.
Mentioning tomorrow brought to mind the party, and to her horror, Ingrid found her eyes tearing up. She tried to wipe them dry without Gene noticing, but he was already reaching for the tissue box and pulling her closer.
“Rest, darlin'. I’ll give you some extra energy tomorrow to take care of the wolf. Then everything will be fine.”
He knew as well as she did that nothing would be fine as long as they were ingénues in a theta troupe. But the touch of his hand gently rubbing her back and his tender, soothing words lulled her quickly into a restful sleep without dreams.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Mack saw Gene in the kitchen at ten the following morning. “How is she?” He’d barely slept, tossing and turning most of the night.
Gene, on the other hand, was full of energy, making it clear he and Ingrid had rebooted. Oddly, Mack felt happy and heartbroken at the same time.
“She’ll be fine.” Gene turned away, breaking eye contact. “I’m bringing her some breakfast.”
“I’ll bring it up. I want to talk to her.”
“I don’t think she’s in the mood for one of your lectures on her duties as an ingénue.” There was anger in Gene’s eyes and voice. Clearly, he felt protective, having developed strong feelings for Ingrid.
“It’s important. I’m not going to give her a hard time. You can stay,” Mack offered.
That placated Gene slightly, and they went upstairs together carrying plates of pancakes, juice, and coffee. Ingrid was seated at her desk, dressed in shorts and a tee shirt and sporting a serious expression as she studied something on her tablet. Mack smiled when he observed the remains of Diane’s lamp, lying in a heap by the fireplace.
The direction of his gaze reminded her of her tantrum. “Sorry…I was pissed off.”
Mack surveyed the rest of the room with amusement. “I’m surprised that’s the only casualty.”
She sighed, gazing at him with a resigned expression. “What is it, Mack?”
“I’ll talk while you two eat.” They dug in, obviously hungry after their night together. Mack avoided looking at the bed—the tangled sheets on both sides an advertisement confirming a night spent together. “I admit I've been buying into The Director's BS, suggesting that I was keeping us safe from extermination by following his orders. But last night made it clear to me that there is no way to guarantee our safety. He allows us to live only because we make him more money than any of the other troupes."
Ingrid swallowed down a forkful of syrup-laden pancakes. None of this was news to her. In fact, she'd been telling Mack this all along.
Mack continued. "I should have stepped in last night when he was hurting you. I'm sorry, Ingrid." He felt like shit about it.
“You were protecting the others, the way the PM is supposed to do. I’ve never had a PM worth crap. This troupe’s on top for a lot more reasons than simply talent. The actors feel safe and confident under you.
“It’s true,” Gene mumbled around a spoonful of pancake.
“Dr. D. would have ended all of us if you'd interfered. I’ve known about what a bastard he is since I was a kid. I was a pretty little girl and my room had a two-way mirror. I found out later that he’d invite different males to watch me as my crappy guardian dressed and undressed me. When I was raped, he didn’t do anything about it. He sent me back to school to become an ingénue. He didn’t even apologize for sticking me with a fucked up guardian who’d bring men to our room and screw them with me in the bed next to hers. I used to plug my ears and hide under the covers. I was lucky the rape only happened that once.”
“The instructors did nothing? The headmaster?” Gene asked. He was clearly livid.
“They were fucking my guardian, too.” Ingrid shrugged, leaning forward to get their attention. "I think The Director tried to restrict our power last night so that we'd be weakened when he came backstage after the performance. If we hadn't taken down the block, we would've had to work twice as hard to project the same quality show. We'd have been completely spent when he showed up." She looked at Mack intently. "He's afraid of us. He might even know that our troupe has evolved, but he's too greedy to exterminate us."
Mack allowed his mental wheels to spin while Gene and Ingrid continued to eat. Thinking back to the way The Director had hurt her, he wondered what would have happened if he’d stepped up to offer Ingrid some power to fight back. This was scary shit.
Mack sat on the edge of the bed, tilting his head to stretch the kinks out of his neck. "I couldn’t reschedule my get-together with the Fae Council for another day, although I was able to arrange to meet with them two hours earlier. Still, I won’t be able to morph into you as I did with that asshole vamp and his buddy.”
“Joseph Herron would know the difference. He’s more than he seems.” Ingrid pushed her plate away and wiped her mouth and hands on a napkin.
“He didn’t seem like anything special,” Gene said.
“The fact that he can hide his power is another dangerous sign. He’s absorbed a lot of strength from the other alphas he’s killed,” Ingrid added.
“You’ve been doing your own research?” Gene teased.
“I learned from the best.”
Mack tried to ignore the way they were smiling at each other. “How many?” he asked.
Ingrid answered. “At least a dozen powerful pack leaders—some of them males who’d lived one hundred and fifty years.”
This info had Mack worried “How old is Alpha Herron?”
“Seventy-six.” Alphas aged so slowly it was hardly noticeable. A hundred-year-old male often looked no older than forty years. Joseph Herron could easily pass for thirty-five.
Mack stood, lowering his body onto the window seat so he was closer and could speak more quietly. “We need to figure out a way to make the wolf and The Director think you cooperated fully. I’ll give you every ounce of extra power I can dredge up and I’m sure Gene will too, but will that be enough?"
The three conspirators regarded each other for a few heartbeats, Ingrid finally speaking. "Between you and Gene and me, I'll have more than enough fuel to give Joe the hottest fantasy of his life.”
"I'll do my best to get to the party when you do, but time doesn't have the same meaning for a race that’s been around a few thousand years. When I get to the Marquis, I'll morph into a hotel manager and wait behind the exit door that’s closest to your room in case you need me. I've already checked to see which room Joseph’s rented for your private party."
“You’ve actually thought this through, haven’t you?” Ingrid’s thoughts were a cool balm, instantly renewing their intimate connection.
“I haven’t slept, worrying about you. I seem to keep fucking up.”
Gene asked, "Why don't you guys hang out together for the rest of the day?”
Mack’s jaw dropped in shock. "You can mind speak?”
“Even better, we found a way to reboot without even needing to orgasm.” Ingrid was grinning full out. Mack thought he’d never seen her look more beautiful.
Gene pouted. “Well…I admit it’s better in some ways, but in others…”
Giggling, Ingrid tossed a pillow at Gene’s head. Then to Mack’s surprise, she threw herself into Mack’s arms. “We’re free. The actors can learn to reboot without sex. They can choose who they want to be with without worrying over how they’re going to recharge their batteries. With some practice, we’ll be able to reboot ourselves, like you do.”
“But I use the source,” Mack said, puzzled.
“So did I.”
Mack could think of no response at first. Without training, she’d gone to the most dangerous power source available, more dangerous than any nuclear power plant or rogue solar flare. Techs were trained how to approach the ancient sentient creature, how to request a boon, how to show the proper respect. A PM who felt entitled to what the source offered would soon feel nothing, ever again.
Ingrid could have killed them both.
Gene was carefully backing out of the room, Mack’s dark expression a warning that he might be on the verge of erupting. “See you guys later.” Gene was gone in a heartbeat.
Ingrid, on the other hand, was staring at Mack in utter defiance, her chin an arrow pointing toward his heart, her hands fisted at her sides. Even her scent had changed, switching from delicate lavender to a sharper, spicier bouquet. She was breathing deeply, her chest rising and falling provocatively, her nipples hardened and visible under the thin material of her shirt. He recalled how delicious her breasts had tasted, how responsive she was.
“You’re staring at my chest.” Ingrid stepped backwards, her ass hitting the desk.
“Should I stop?” Mack took two steps closer.
“I’m not sure. What do you have in mind?”
He continued to stare at her two perfect breasts. “They seem like the perfect place to start.”
“Start what?”
“Your punishment.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“Why am I being punished?” Ingrid was surprised by the sound of her husky voice and the
tingles that ran up and down her skin, her body obviously excited by the idea. She began to scoot sideways, not able to back up any further. Mack had allowed his eyes to return to their natural shade. The hot copper was sexy as hell, giving off the feel of a dangerous predator. His muscular form had Ingrid weaker in the knees with every step he took, stalking her as a big cat would a gazelle. And she knew in her heart only pleasure lay down that road. His smile spoke of dirty, naughty, delicious things. If he’d been a cat his fangs would’ve been showing.
Oh, god. He’s going to pounce.
“You did a very foolish thing last night,” her lover whispered.
“The source is benevolent.” She meant to sound irritated, but it only came out as defensive.
“Not always. You were lucky. Tech Thetas are trained to follow a ritual when dealing with her. She now expects an offering from you.” His grin held an impish gleam.
“What? A basket of berries? Home baked cookies?”
Mack pressed his hard body against hers, all six feet plus of it, trapping her against her desk. His fingers skimmed along the waistband of her shorts. “Not exactly.” The top button popped open.
“Mack…”
“You need a lesson in etiquette.” He squeezed one of her ass cheeks, pulling up her shirt to brush the skin of her belly with his knuckles. Mmmm.
Ingrid grinned, biting her lip to look naïve. “Why were you picked to deliver my punishment?” She stroked her hand down his chest, unbuttoning his shirt from the bottom up.
“Seeing you with Gene brings out my inner Trogg—doesn’t matter that nothing happened between you.” He lowered the zipper of her shorts, folding his fingers over the band and slowly, so slowly pulling the shorts down her legs. “Your legs are so fucking beautiful.” He kissed her thighs, licking and nibbling, driving her crazy until the shorts were pooled at her feet. He took hold of an ankle. “Lift.” She did as he asked, repeating the motion a second time.
“This is punishment?” She couldn’t suppress a giggle.
“Not yet.”
Playing with Passion Theta Series Book 1 Page 22
