“You’re the king of non-answers.”
“Do you remember my rules?”
“Yeah, yeah, but this is my room, big guy, and I’m in charge here.” She lifted her bare foot and shoved hard against his chest, making him sprawl back on the floor, wide-eyed with shock at first, then laughing. She pounced, straddling his hips. “How does Trogg feel about this?”
Mack cupped her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples, wetting her core. She leaned back, resting her hands on his thighs. “Trogg likes very much,” he teased, forcing his voice to sound more like a grunt.
“I think I like Trogg,” she sighed. “He doesn’t have all those guilty hang ups.”
Mack grabbed her hair, pulling her down for a kiss, rough and demanding, nipping at her lips to force her mouth open, fucking her with his tongue the way he would with his cock. Ingrid was in heaven.
He had her shirt off a minute later, his mouth settling on her tit, sucking hard. Her hands wove through his dark hair, making her own demands by holding his head in place. She grunted with pleasure when she felt his teeth, the shock soaking her vagina.
Mack flipped her onto her back, forcing her legs apart, then grasping her panties and ripping them in two. She was breathing hard, wanting him so badly she couldn’t form the words.
“Your room, my rules.” His whisper warmed her ear, heating up her core.
He kissed her again, invading her mouth, claiming her with lips and tongue and teeth. She wiggled in his grasp, wanting to move to the bed, but the weight of his body held her in place.
Ingrid pulled away, trying to catch her breath. “I want you.” She lifted her body to kiss his chest, but his hand on her shoulder was firm, keeping her pressed into the oriental style rug.
He trapped her chin between fingers and thumb. “Tell me exactly how you feel about Gene.” The question, posed at this particular time, startled her into meeting his gaze. He’d left his shields down, a surprising act of trust, and Ingrid saw into the heart of this gorgeous, dedicated, honest, lonely male. “Trogg wants to fight him for you. Clubs at dawn.” He looked like he was only half joking.
With other males, she might have gotten snarky, telling them it wasn’t any of their business, but Mack was The Guy. From the first time they’d touched, she’d known—and so had he, as much as they’d both tried to deny it. She loved him, and he deserved to know the truth.
“I adore Gene. We’ll be close friends for life. That’s it. And since I’m pretty sure I can reboot myself, that means I’m free to choose who kisses me.” Ingrid kissed Mack’s nose. “Touches me.” She moved his hand to her breast. “I can even choose who I let inside my body.” A hard yank on his belt loop and his obvious erection was much closer to her wet center.
“I’m the only one you’re ever going to allow inside your body,” Mack growled.
She loved this possessive side, but she couldn’t help teasing him. “What about the dentist? Or the…”
Mack grinned, leaning his forehead against hers. “You’re mine, beautiful girl. I’ll protect you and love you with every breath in my body.”
Their next kiss was sweet, full of hope and promise. “Distracting me again?”
“Worked the first time, didn’t it?” Grinding his erection against her bare sex, he positioned both of her hands over her head.
She was panting, so horny she thought she’d explode. “Take of your jeans.”
“Later.” He was nuzzling her neck, sending shockwaves directly to her sex.
“Bed, please.”
“Uh, uh. Punishment, remember? Leave your hands where they are.” He slid down her body, kissing her belly on the journey, spreading her thighs with his hands and his elbows. His face was between her legs. the delicious assault beginning in earnest.
Her core was throbbing almost instantly, her body arching off the rug. “Oh…yes. Do that again…oh, god, Mack…” He laughed, the rumble vibrating against her most sensitive flesh. When he didn’t let up, she clutched at his hair, his skillful tongue not allowing her a chance to catch her breath.
After her second strong orgasm, Ingrid had to beg Mack for mercy. Only then did he lift her onto the bed, where he punished her with long hard strokes and a perfect friction that had her coming once more, sobbing out her final release. He kissed her when he came inside her heat, a kiss filled with the promise of a future together. They’d opened their minds and hearts at the end, looping to become one.
“Am I breathing?” she mumbled, only finding the strength to open one eye. Her voice was a lazy slur, one leg and one arm splayed across his body. “You are so comfortable to lie on top of.”
He groaned beside her, lifting up on one elbow. “Have you been properly punished?”
Oh, god that sexy grin. She wanted to see it every hour of every day. “The gravity of my misdeeds cannot be denied. I only request that the punishment be equally as harsh if I should transgress again.”
He chuckled, the deep rumble of his voice vibrating against her skin in a delicious way. “A second offence will be dealt with more harshly.”
“I may not survive.” Ingrid rolled over and stretched, forcing herself to get out of bed and stumble to the shower. “I have to kick you out. I’ve got a party to attend.”
Mack was by her side a minute later. “Gene and I will keep you safe.”
“I know. I’m the luckiest female in New York.”
Mack left so she could shower, a decided smirk plastered on his face. After drying herself, she found Diane standing in the open doorway leading to the hallway.
Diane stared at the ripped panties on the floor by the desk. “Mack or Gene?”
“Mack.”
“Nice.”
“Very.”
Ingrid fished clothes out of her dresser and closet. “What happened to my lamp?” Diane asked. The larger pieces, as well as the shade, were still lying on the floor next to the fireplace.
“Oh, sorry. I threw a book at the wall, only I hit the lamp by accident. I’ll get you another one.”
“It was a gift from Dave.” She leaned closer. “I never liked it, but I didn’t have the heart to tell him.” They both laughed. “You’ve been a busy bee, haven’t you?” She glanced toward the door to Gene’s room.
“They’re both worried about me.”
Diane’s expression grew serious. “Maybe you could give that wolf one of your amazing projections and he'd think that he had the best sex ever? When I was linked to you at the rehearsal, I really believed I’d been turned into a vampire. It was so real that I was ready to take a bite out of someone and drain them dry. What you do is incredible. Don’t let that asshole Director make you feel like shit.”
Ingrid had gotten dressed while Diane was talking, snatching up her comb, intending to work on her stubborn tangles. Diane stepped over and took the comb from Ingrid’s hand, motioning for her to sit, and then taking over the job with a firm, practiced hand. Diane was one of those actors, whose emotions swung from high to higher and then low to lower, making it difficult to read her mood. Ingrid appreciated her supportive words, but at the same time, she thought it was best to keep quiet about what she, Gene and Mack were planning to do tonight. If anyone in the troupe would rat them out, Ingrid’s money was on Diane.
When Diane finished, she handed Ingrid the comb. “Thanks for the help with my hair and also the support. It means a lot to me.” She gave Diane a hug and they took the stairs down to the kitchen together.
At the meeting, the mood was somber, all of them looking to Mack for guidance. This particular party with the wolves had a different vibe, putting everyone on guard. Because The Director had given the top alpha permission to play-out his fantasy with Ingrid, some of the other wolves might be feeling they had the right to hurt Diane or Staci, or even Gene.
Mack told the group the truth about how precarious the troupe’s situation had become, explaining how he couldn’t stand by any longer and watch The Director pimp out his friends.
; “I’ve let you all down. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re the best PM any troupe could have. You’ve done everything within your power to protect us. We’re all grateful.” Staci wrapped her arms around his waist to give him a supportive hug.
With Gene and Mack’s urging, the troupe agreed to pack small bags with basic necessities to stash in the anonymous van Alan had secured in case they had to flee. Mack had purchased some property upstate under a pseudonym, so it was decided that’s where the troupe would head if the night appeared as if it was going to crash and burn. Diane and Dave were troubled, but Mack assured them the likelihood of anything happening was very slim. This was simply an emergency safeguard.
“Keep a close eye on Diane and Dave,” Mack sent the message to Gene, although Ingrid heard it too. As of now, all mental messages went out to the three of them, but they were hoping they’d soon get a handle on how to focus their communications to include only two of the three. Mental conference calls made it hard to focus.
Back in her room, Ingrid hauled out her carry-on, throwing in her H-tab, some items of clothing, her extra cash, and a few pieces of jewelry that would be easy to pawn. None of the troupe took these events lightly, especially being forced to attend a party that The Director had made Mandatory with a capital ‘M’. Werewolves were a violent species, and this group was more violent than most. It was best to be prepared for the worst.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
“I wonder if Miss Hudson is thinking about our night together?” Joseph was leaning against the wall, staring out through the floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked Central Park.
The Director huffed, busily reviewing figures and not bothering to look up. “I can guarantee it. I left quite an impression on the little whore.”
“I intend to make it clear who’s in charge, through any means necessary.”
“And who tortured you in the past, Joseph? Your sire? Your grandsire? They were curs, if I recall.”
“All died a painful death.” The alpha allowed a little fang to show.
The Director chuckled. “Have you always been a sadist?”
“Born and bred from a long line of sadists. I could tell you stories…”
“I would rather you do not, thank you.”
“Squeamish?”
The Director finally lifted his head. The blatant challenge could not be ignored. “I would imagine that cock you are so proud of would make a lovely wall ornament, once it was tanned and stuffed.” The Director’s braid lengthened, whipping around the alpha’s neck, dragging him closer, tightening slowly.
“For…give me, sir.” Joseph’s face had paled, his breathing growing erratic. When sweat broke out on the wolf’s brow, The Director smiled. The dog should know better.
Although Joseph was turning blue, The Director added heat to the braid, reddening his victim’s skin. “You are close to crossing a line I will never allow you to survive.” He removed his braid from Joseph’s neck, automatically coiling the long end around his own chest and allowing it to dissolve into his body. He left the usual queue visible, the rest held in readiness to become his weapon or his wings. Only his generals and his siblings had ever seen the devastation his winged form could achieve, but he was not yet ready to move on. This simple civilization was safe for now, as the game was only at the half way point.
“You will agree to my terms, Joseph.”
The Director used his magic to light the five fingers on his right hand, twisting it several times to watch the flames dance to his tune. He extended it, waiting for the alpha’s decision. Would the dog run with his tail between his legs, or would he show himself to be the alpha he professes to be?
Joseph stared at the flaming hand and stepped forward, meeting The Director’s gaze as they clasped hands, somehow managing to keep from screaming. After a full thirty seconds, The Director smiled and released his grip. The wolf was panting, practically whimpering, his hand a charred mess. But he’d kept his feet and hadn’t tried to pull away.
“Your hand will be completely healed in one hour, is this not so?”
“Yes, sir.” The wolf was obviously furious. Ingrid would not survive the night if he did not repeat the rules he and Joseph had agreed on.
“As I have left you permanently unscarred, so shall you leave my Ingrid. She must return to me as lovely as she was when you saw her backstage before the performance. No public humiliation or sexual innuendo will be allowed during the party. You will give her the time to greet each guest who attended the performance. In public, you and your pack will treat her with the respect I insist should be given to any of my troupe members. Remember, they are my property, not your toys.”
“Yes, sir,” the wolf grunted.
The Director watched in fascination as Joseph’s neck healed from the burn of the braid. The lupine virus was thought to be destructive and cruel if not contained, but perhaps his scientists should study this amazingly benevolent side effect. His soldiers’ healing powers could use a boost.
“Don’t look so glum. When you and Ingrid are locked safely away in your soundproofed suite, you, and only you, may have your fun.”
“Of course, Director.”
The Director’s H-tab beeped. The image of his second in command, Rem, spun over the screen. They spoke in a language more ancient than the earth itself. “Yes?”
“Lord, the main tech squad noticed a flux in the source earlier today.”
“Where did it originate?”
“The Hudson River Troupe house.”
“Was Mack there when it happened?”
“No, sir.”
“Alan?”
“Alan was in the carriage house. The squad feels it was an actor who approached the creature.”
“That is impossible.”
There was a long pause. “The evidence points to Ingrid Hudson.”
“Please send over your report within the hour. Also, keep me informed if there are any other developments.”
“Yes, Lord Jorint.” The Director ended the call.
The Director shut down his H-tab, lowering his massive bulk into the specially designed desk chair. Because his legs were so long, the seat of the chair and the surface of the desk were higher off the ground, making them appear to be on a platform. All of his guests were forced to stare up at him. His brother, Susa, would tell him it was a sign of his vanity and arrogance and that he should attempt to reach out to his subjects, not distance himself, but Jorint understood power and domination. The game would be played by his rules alone.
The wolf was restless, his knees shaking with adrenalin, his injured hand cradled against his chest. “Joseph.”
“Yes, sir?”
“You may sit. Help yourself to more scotch.” As the wolf slid into the chair, The Director poured him another dram, sliding it across the desk. Joseph downed it in one gulp. “You’ll stay for lunch. There’s a report being delivered I’d like to look over before you leave.”
“I’d be honored, sir.”
Joseph hadn’t bothered to hide his sarcasm. Ballsy wolf. It was a shame Ingrid would suffer under the wolf’s claws tonight because of the alpha’s loss of face, he mused. Or perhaps not such a shame after all. The female had been showing a decidedly rebellious streak. The alpha wolf would put her in her place, but then again, she might need more personal attention. He would discuss his schedule with Annie tomorrow.
“You’ll be pleased to know, the rules for tonight may have changed in your favor.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
After returning from his meeting with the fae, Mack morphed into a hotel manager, nametag and all, lingering near the door so he could be there when the troupe arrived. The stretch limo pulled up, and Gene was the first to emerge, dressed in tight leather pants, boots, and a black tee shirt under a black leather jacket. He held out a hand for Ingrid, both of them receiving a round of screams from the crowd of humans who’d somehow found out where the party was being held. Ingrid looked spect
acular in a tight red leather dress with a low neckline and high boots, her smile a combination of excitement and nerves. The provocative outfit had been sent over by The Director’s secretary, Annie, with a note stating the alpha had made the request and provided the clothing.
Dave helped Diane out of the limo, the two of them dressed in sophisticated attire, appearing more like Hollywood celebrities than the rock star style of the ingénues. The crowd was growing larger and rowdier, waving, and calling out to their favorite troupe members.
“Ingrid, you’re so hot!”
“Gene, I love you!”
“Diane, look this way!”
H-tab cameras were going off like crazy, but the troupe was used to being bombarded by bright flashing lights and screamed requests. Staci and Sam got the same reception, the fans so excited to catch a glimpse of a live theta.
One brave girl had ducked under the cop's arm and dashed toward the ingénues. "Gene, could you please sign my arm?" She waved a permanent marker at him.
Ingrid laughed good-naturedly. “He has terrible handwriting,” she teased.
"Pay no attention to this troublemaker. What's your name, honey?" Gene asked.
The teenager stood there for a second or two, her mouth hanging open, absolutely blown away that this superstar had called her honey. "Sharon...I'm Sharon."
Several wolves had come out of the hotel and were roughly shooing the crowd away. One of them reached out to grab Sharon, but Gene turned to him with his hand up. "Give us a minute, please." He'd thrown out some magic, his voice as commanding as any top alpha’s. The werewolf stepped back and waited, not having a clue he'd been Influenced. Mack wondered if Gene even realized what he'd done.
“Holy shit, that boy has some serious power.”
Gene smiled again, having heard Mack’s comment. “I try to keep it subtle.” He returned his gaze to the girl. “Sharon. Pretty name." He was all charm as he gently took hold of her extended arm. "Where?"
She indicated the smooth underside. Gene wrote, speaking out loud so Mack would hear. “To Sharon, a lovely girl. From your fan, Gene Hudson.” By the time he’d finished, she was trembling, tears running down her cheeks. He returned the pen and kissed her hand, escorting her back to the barricade. He handed her a card. “Do you have an H-tab?” She nodded. “You can find me here at my website. I may have a job for you, but it’s a secret, okay?” He winked.
Playing with Passion Theta Series Book 1 Page 23
