"Oh god—thank you, Gene." She ran behind the wolves, hugging another teenaged girl and giggling excitedly.
Ingrid leaned closer to Gene, taking his hand. "You're kind of a nice guy aren't you?"
"Shhh, don't tell anyone. You inspired me the other night, with Johnny." Johnny was driving the limo again tonight, standing by the driver's door, professional in his all-black uniform.
After a glance from Gene, the wolf security guard who’d tried to stop Sharon seemed to come back online. "Sir, Miss, you need to go in now. The rest of your troupe is already at the party."
"We like to make a dramatic entrance.” Gene offered Ingrid his arm. "Miss Ingrid?"
"Thank you, kind sir." She giggled as they waved at the crowd, strolling to the entrance of the hotel at their own pace.
As Ingrid passed Mack, she lifted her face for a moment to catch his gaze, her lips curling up with a hint of a smile. Her incredible beauty made his breath catch in his throat. He wanted to snatch her away from Gene and kiss her, right in front of everyone. Fortunately, his survival instincts kicked in.
Stomping down on the fires of his inconvenient libido, Mack sent her a mild surge of axis energy to let her know he had her back tonight. "I'll be waiting nearby. You'll be fine."
She nodded once, her eyes glittering from the magic. "I'll have him eating out of my hand. No worries."
But Mack was very worried. He’d seen Joseph Herron arrive and there was something about his gloating attitude that had Mack’s hackles up. Something had changed since the guy had come backstage the night before.
Mack watched Gene and Ingrid step into the elevator. He wondered if their plan to project a fantasy to the most powerful alpha on the east coast was the best one they could have come up with. By putting Ingrid on the offensive, had they ensured her execution?
Heading toward the staircase, he raked his fingers through his hair, frustrated and furious to be in this position. He couldn’t recall ever feeling so helpless.
Nothing would happen immediately. The alpha would have to allow her to greet all the other high rollers first. They'd all paid the same fifty grand to see the show and would each be expecting at least a few minutes with Gene and Ingrid. She’d be safe for at least half an hour.
The three of them had plotted and planned, trying to prepare for every scenario, but so much could go wrong if their timing was off. An alpha wolf of Joseph Herron's abilities was probably only one step down the power grid from an ancient master vampire and only a few steps down from The Director himself.
Using the staircase as a stress reliever, Mack raced up flight after flight, not even breaking a sweat. His axis was topped up, his physical strength at its peak. He slowed as he approached the floor where Joseph Herron had reserved a suite. The plan was for him to wait until he saw Ingrid get off the elevator, then he’d walk past them, opening a connection to Ingrid and sharing his energy.
He pictured her again in that tight red dress, wondering if she’d wear it for him one day, after they were free. After they were free. When had he become a guy who dreamt about future happiness—even marriage? To keep his mind occupied while he waited, he imagined what a future with Ingrid could be.
They'd find a house near the shore and make it into a real home. Walk along the beach in the evening, he’d tell her she was more beautiful than all the stars she’d always wished on. Every night he’d cover her body with kisses and lose himself in her passion. They’d learn how to love each other more with each passing day, because they’d be free to be who they truly were.
Mack was overwhelmed by a sudden wave of emotion, a sweet ache, a soft acceptance. He loved her, and that incredible truth brought his spirit to life. He'd said the words, but tonight, imagining a real future together, he believed them with every cell in his body. He’d lived a half-life before Ingrid, but he never would again.
Despite the serious circumstances, Mack was grinning from ear to ear. If anyone had walked past him at that moment, they’d have thought he’d gone loony. Well, maybe he was a little loony. Wasn’t love supposed to make people crazy?
As the elevator doors opened on the twenty-fifth floor, he shook off his unexpectedly strong emotions and tried to focus on what lay ahead tonight. Remembering what The Director had ordered Ingrid to do, and how he'd brutalized her after the show, his rage returned full force. If this alpha creep hurt her, Mack swore he'd find a way to kill him, and the archdemon sadist would be next.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
The room they'd rented for the informal gathering was large enough to fit the twenty alpha and beta wolves, their mates, and girlfriends comfortably. A pianist and singer were entertaining the pack with smoky ballads near the terrace doors, as some servers took drink orders and others brought around trays of appetizers.
People were chatting excitedly, many crowding around Diane and Dave, who seemed to be enormously popular. They'd been the torturers and rapists during the performance, and Ingrid agreed they'd done a particularly realistic job of it. Many of the wolves currently surrounding the two divas had also seen them perform as ingénues and were doubly thrilled to be meeting them in person. Sam and Staci had their own smaller group of fans, asking for autographs, and of course the occasional fantasy, which they politely refused to pull up.
Ingrid handed her short leather jacket to the wolf who'd ushered them inside, then linked her arm through Gene's. "Like glue," she whispered in his ear, watching his mouth turn up in a sly smile.
"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 sof
a. "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."
Playing with Passion Theta Series Book 1 Page 24
