Circe's Recruits: Gideon: A Multiple Partner Shifter Book (11 page)

“Duane, come to my office, would you?” She said into the intercom on her desk.

He glanced up at the camera on the wall and nodded.

She looked away from the monitor and studied her office, knowing it suited. The million dollar fashion warehouse covered up the underground lab below. Women and men flittered around the warehouse coming up with new designs and lines, overseen by her trusted creative team, while she seemingly lounged in her frilly pink office on the top floor.

Her furniture was top of the line. Expensive, comfortable, and suited to show off her sense of style and taste. Amelia had a bob of black hair, cut to expertly frame her slender jaw, high cheekbones, and perfect little nose. Her bright blue eyes mesmerized the press, so much that they’d taken to calling her The Norton Princess.

She’d never had a thing tucked or sucked from her body. Everything about her came from her amazing, perfectly selected genetics. A pity her mother had been hit by a drunk driver shortly after Amelia’s birth, but in a way that had only increased attention paid to her by the media. She could go nowhere, swamped by photographers and tabloids. They’d never known the real her, never had time for a shy little girl who only wanted her father’s attention. Instead, she’d been groomed to be a glory hound. Anything to please the people around her and make daddy look like the world’s best father.

She’d done that…for a time, at least.

Senator Timothy Norton, her father, had given her the best money could buy. In the past few years, he’d seen fit to include her in his vast network of intelligence and government initiatives. She had more power than he ever had at her age. Now retired, he spent all his time keeping their secrets and eliminating threats.

She stared onscreen as Dr. Lang conferred with his team of scientists. Time would tell if Lang could be trusted to enter her inner sanctum, as Duane Smith had. She’d been fortunate enough that he’d stepped into her path at the right time and place. As if fate had thrown them together for a specific purpose. She trusted Duane, though common sense said she shouldn’t.

He did whatever she wanted without question. Even better, beneath that average façade dwelled a byzantine mind and hardcore sadist, one who knew how to keep his mouth shut.

A knock on her office door. She’d sent her personal staff to Paris for a few days, hoping for a creative burst. The lack of people breathing down her throat gave her the opportunity to deal with Lang’s recent failure. “Come in.”

Duane entered. Neither tall nor short, fat nor slender, he had average features and an even temperament. On the surface. Now, as he approached, she saw the fire behind those pale brown eyes.

She suppressed a shiver and raised a brow. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

Duane glowered.

With her in private, he became another man. No longer the meek science nerd who swallowed every word Dr. Lang spoke as gospel, no longer the scared little boy who’d been abused unmercifully by his father, ignored by his mother, and treated as no more than a case number by social services, Duane drew on all the black stuff in his past and turned into the hardened man she’d seen buried under so much placidness.

Like Duane, Amelia had lived to type, doing exactly what others wanted of her for too long. And like Duane, she’d broken, then put herself back together. Daddy hadn’t realized she had a will of her own. Not until it had been too late to stop her.

“Lang fucked up.” Duane didn’t bother with niceties. “He trusted Alex Palmer, despite my concerns. Now Palmer, Spencer, Ortiz and Freeman are gone.”

She frowned. “Our successful Circs, no longer under our control?” A Series, no longer theirs?

“Correct. But we still have some of the B Series left. They’re not psychic, but they pass for normal and they’re strong.” He rattled off a bunch of names, ending with, “Myers, Yates, Sheer and Caldane. Oh, and we still have a few of our stronger psychics with us. They’ve been moved to this location and are currently in the white wing, under guard.”

“Good.” The psychics were as valuable as the Circs. It grated that the ones she’d planned to reap after breeding had gone missing, but she’d make do with what she had. “Work the females through Myers and his friends.”

“They’re a pack. That’s how they refer to themselves.”

“Fascinating.” She couldn’t care less. “I need fetal tissue. You know that.”

He nodded. “We’ve already harvested what we had from those still viable.” He scowled. “Sheer is getting out of hand. He keeps killing our subjects.”

She smiled. “After fucking them to death. Yes, I know. He intrigues me.” Almost as much as that wonderfully monstrous Caldane. She rose from behind her desk and walked to Duane, pleased when he stiffened and stared at her.

She wore a gossamer negligee, having expected him. Behind her back she held a crop. “I’ve missed you, dear.”

“Need to bleed, do you?” He licked his lips and focused on her breasts, still bouncy and firm thanks to a regimen of yoga and personal training, as well as access to EL13 and embryonic cell magic.

“Yes.” She pulled her dress aside, baring her left breast. “Bite me.”

The veneer of civilized male fell away as Duane embraced his true self. He bit her nipple hard, drew blood, and licked it away. He pulled back, and they watched as she healed. He smiled. “Very nice.” He bit her other breast, right through the filmy material, then grabbed the crop from behind her.

He twisted her arm behind her back, then spun her and bent her over her desk, wiping everything onto the floor in one giant crash.

The destruction added to his lust, because he unzipped and grunted as he shoved into her.

“You’re too wet.” He smacked her lower back with the crop and left a welt. “Too excited to see me.” He couldn’t hurt her by fucking too hard. She’d been excited the moment he’d stepped in the room.

But when he withdrew and pushed into the tender flesh of her ass, she gasped.

“Ah, there we go.” He laughed as he took her, and she reveled in the pain, in the sensation of being alive.

Duane beat her with the crop, striking until the burn faded and a bright glow lit her from the inside out. She tensed around him with one particularly hard hit, and she soaked him with her pleasure.

He didn’t like that she hadn’t asked permission to climax, and he beat her even more, stimulating another, more intense orgasm as one of her ribs cracked.

She clamped around him, stirring him to his own end, and he finished inside her, then withdrew and wiped himself over her open wounds, increasing the burn.

Once he finished and moved away, she straightened and waited.

“So sad. You’re all healed.” He sighed, wiped the blood from her back with the damp towel she kept on hand for such occasions, then helped her dress in a divine royal blue sheath that cost more than he earned in a month.

She looked at Duane, saw his common features and loved him all the more. She kissed his forehead while he finished righting his clothing. Peasant to her queen, and always at her disposal.

“We do have two pieces of good news for you,” he said, as if he hadn’t just taken her like an animal.

“Oh?”

“Well, this one’s not exactly good. We know where A Series are. With Circe’s Recruits in New Jersey.”

The government watched over those Circs with a keen eye. She might have to write them off.

“The second piece of good news?”

He smiled, and in his joy she saw true beauty. “We found Bailey Duncan. It turns out she’s successfully transitioned. She left a trail of bodies for us to find. We just need to get to her before Circe’s Recruits do.”

“Outstanding. You have full access to whatever you need. And keep Lang on track, would you, Duane? He’s easily distracted by his own importance.”

Duane grinned. He kissed her on the cheek, then slapped her so hard her head whipped back. “Watch your tone, bitch.”

Her eyes shone. Only Duane understood how to deal with her. “Yes, sir.”

“I’ll see you soon, sweet.”

She watched him leave, sighed, then stuffed her bloodied and ruined clothing into a bag into her desk. She’d dispose of them later.

Now back to managing her millions and dealing with that new regime in Thailand needing muscle to move their opium. Supermercenaries. A niche market, but one that paid exceedingly well.

She glanced at a secure email message and smiled. The dictator had the powder blue silks she wanted, finely crafted by the tiny fingers of orphans, a fortunate casualty of their ongoing drug war. Lovely. A win-win for everyone, she thought and lovingly stroked her throbbing cheek.

Chapter Seven

Thursday morning, Gideon watched the Circs train. They had civilians in the gym with them. Some government agents who seriously needed some remedial training in kicking ass.

“Man, are they weak,” Elijah muttered. They stood together studying Circe’s Recruits, sizing up a potential enemy. Though the Circs had helped them escape the lab, they didn’t seem sold on any measure of trust. Having Gideon and the others on their property was more to keep an eye on them than a sincere offer to help, so far as Gideon was concerned.

Gideon watched Ace and Zack flip a few guys onto their backs without much effort. He wasn’t impressed. He’d fought better opponents in underground matches and seen better trainers in back alleys and broken down gyms.

Elijah sighed and leaned back against a Nautilus machine. “Man, this is boring. How much longer do we need to hang out here?” He crossed his arms, looking like a gangster
Muscle & Fitness
model. Sporting tats up and down his arms, a few prison tats, and a lot of references to the grim reaper, Eli looked like death personified. With his dark hair and darker eyes, he could have passed for a muscled reaper himself.

“You’re not a group kind of guy, are you?”

Eli become even more antsy since they’d fucked the day before. Gideon thought he understood why. More than the physical act of connecting, they’d bonded in a way defying explanation. He could feel the guys now, though he still didn’t know them. Not like the Circe’s Recruits assholes, who smiled and laughed with one another.

“Never had what you’d call friends.” Eli huffed. “Most guys at my back are trying to stab it.”

“With your mouth, it’s no wonder.”

Eli laughed, and the sound was genuine. “Asshole. Hey, I call it like I see it. I didn’t come from much, and I’m not impressed with the legal dickbags and their rules.” He nodded at a squad of agents keeping a wary eye on them. “I could bend those guys into pretzels in no time, all by myself.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier, and more fun, with backup?”

“Maybe. But not necessarily safer. You rely on yourself, you don’t worry about people turning on you.”

“Good point.” Gideon couldn’t fault him for that. And Eli was right. The government men spending the next few days “in training”—most likely to help keep an eye on them—didn’t look too friendly. “Do you have anyone waiting on you at home?”

“Nobody but a bookie wanting what I owe him. I like college games. What can I say?”

“So are you in the hole for a lot?”

“I may not look smart, but I don’t bet more than I can cover. Maybe a grand all said and done. But the guy I bet with is new, and he’s not the patient type.” He shrugged. “Hell. He’s in Queens, and I’m here in Jersey. He’s not gonna be any trouble.” He paused. “Though I might have started some shit with a few guys who mouthed off about my bad luck. Big guys, mob types. A lot of attitude I didn’t appreciate.”

Gideon shook his head, not surprised. “So you have a bookie and the mob after you.”

“Not so much ‘after.’ More like wanting a fight to call things even.” Eli cracked his knuckles. “I’m more than ready to head home and fix them.”

“But it wouldn’t be a fair fight now.” Gideon glanced at Eli’s hands, specifically at the claws that peeked out from his nails.

“Yeah. The guns won’t bother me now.” Eli grinned and flexed his fingers, showing off his claws before retracting them again.

Seeing the guy in, what for Elijah amounted to a pleasant mood, Gideon continued to pry. “No woman waiting on your sorry ass? No mom nagging you to come home for the holidays?”

“Nah. I have a few chicks I spend time with, but no one who sticks. No family, no friends worth a mention.” He shrugged. “You?”

“Nope. The only guys I cared about died a few days ago.” The pain refused to fade, so Gideon kept it balled up inside. He could talk about his friends and not feel it, as if the words meant nothing. “No girlfriend. No bookies. The money for attending the fight would have put me flush for a while. Don’t think Lang’s check will clear now, though.”

Eli snorted. “Lang is such a prick. I heard he really went to town on you. He wasn’t as rough on me. But he stuck it to Carter big time.”

“Yeah?”

Eli nodded. “Not sure why. Probably because Carter might not seem like it, but he’s a huge pain in the ass. Can be a stubborn bastard when he doesn’t want to cooperate. I just killed the guys they sent in to make me dance.”

“How’s that?”

They continued to watch the Circs train the civvies. Pathetic the way they drilled the agents, who could barely defend themselves.